Winn’s eyes snapped up. "Did you drink it?" he asked. Fear punched through him; he could imagine her, alone, swallowing the lie of a sip that turned into a bottle and a morning of shame.

"No — Reese came in just in time." There was a brittle relief in her voice — gratitude threaded through humiliation. "He got arrested."

"I know. I’ll bail him out in the morning. I’m so sorry," Winn said. He crushed his forehead to hers for a second, as if he could transfer his steadiness into her.

"I have to get away from our father. I can’t— I can’t."

"Hey... shh." His arms tightened as if willing to keep her heart in place. "You cannot leave me alone, Syl. Please, don’t leave me too."

"He is never going to let me be," she whispered, the long hot bite of truth.

"I know, I know, love." Winn kissed the top of her head.

"It’s always something."

"Come on. I’ll make you some tea. And then I am going to punch him in the face," Winn added.

"No!" Sylvia snapped. "Just let him be. Please. I... I can’t." Her breath came in quick, uneven bursts. "This is what he does, Winn. He wants a reaction, every damn time. He baits us, pulls the strings, and sits back to watch the fireworks, then he uses the fireworks against us. I can’t do it anymore." Her eyes glistened.

"He drains me. Every time I think I’m okay, he finds another way to remind me I’m not."

Winn didn’t move at first. He just watched her. The rage he felt toward their father simmered under his skin, sharp enough to cut. Of course, he could survive Tom Kane’s games — he’d been forged in them. But Syl... she was all heart.

He finally nodded, a slow surrender. "Alright," he said quietly. "If what you really need is to get away from him, I’m not going to stop you." Letting her go meant losing his anchor — the one good thing in the chaos of being a Kane. "Just promise me you won’t disappear without a word. You do that, and I’ll lose my goddamn mind."

Sylvia exhaled shakily, guilt pressing against her ribs. "This is all my fault," she whispered. "I started all of this." She looked so small saying it, so fragile.

"Syl... We have an asshole for a father. That doesn’t make anything your fault. You want to blame anyone, blame Mom. Hell, blame me for not being there when you needed me."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head as if trying to dislodge the thought. "You don’t understand. Sha—"

Winn cut her off instantly. "Syl, I will not let you go down that road. Whatever he’s done, none of it is on you. You need to eat. You need rest."

He led her to the kitchen island — his hand warm and grounding on her back — and pointed to a stool. "Sit," he ordered softly. "I’ll make you tea."

*****

Two days later, the air outside the Customary Court of Manhattan was thick with humidity. Winn Kane stood beneath the shadow of the courthouse, hands buried in his pockets, the glint of gold rings weighing down his palm.

Joey stood a few feet behind him, crisp in his gray suit, clutching a black folder — the contract that would legally bind Winn to a woman he didn’t love.

All they needed now was for the bride to show up.

Winn’s eyes flicked toward the side walk every few seconds, each minute dragging.

He exhaled and muttered under his breath, "Maybe she won’t come." Maybe the universe — God, fate, karma, whatever — would finally get the message through his thick skull that love wasn’t for men like him.

’Christ. At this point, I should just buy a blow-up doll.’ He thought.

"If she comes, discuss the agreement with her. Be precise and make sure she understands. I’ll be waiting inside," Winn said curtly. Without waiting for Joey’s reply, Winn turned and strode up the courthouse steps.

Joey watched him go, lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t bother trying to talk him out of it. Winn Kane wasn’t marrying for love; he was signing a contract to keep the House of Kane afloat. But Joey knew there was more to it. Winn wasn’t just saving his company. He was trying to prove something.

And Joey could bet with his life, it was to his father.

The car that pulled into the parking lot moments later gleamed beneath the dim sunlight. Its windows rolled down with a low hum, and Sylvia Kane stepped out — a striking figure in a fitted trench coat and high boots.

The wind caught a few strands of her dark hair, whipping them across her face, and she brushed them away impatiently before offering Joey a small smile.

"Hey, Joey," she greeted.

"Hi," Joey replied, tugging on his tie.

"Uhm... where is Winn?" she asked, glancing toward the courthouse doors. There was a tension in her shoulders, a hesitance.

"He just headed in," Joey said.

"Is she here yet?"

"No," he replied.

Sylvia exhaled, her breath misting in the cool air.

"I’ll be inside for a minute," she said, and Joey just nodded, watching her walk away.

The courthouse waiting room was painfully boring — off-white walls, a humming fluorescent light, and a row of cold metal chairs. Winn sat on one, elbows on his knees, phone in hand, scrolling through messages. Sylvia peeked from behind him and saw they were old messages between him and Ivy.

"Hey, bro,"

Winn looked up, surprised. "Hey, Syl. You didn’t have to come, sis. This isn’t a big deal." He forced a crooked smile.

Syl crossed her arms, taking a seat beside him. "I didn’t come to watch you get married," she said bluntly. "I came to beg you to rethink this."

Winn gave a low chuckle. "Begging? That’s new. You sure you’re a Kane?"

"Don’t deflect."

"Syl..." he said softly. "Don’t make this any harder than it is. I’m bleeding inside already." His eyes finally met hers.