Noah sat at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of Froot Loops, shoveling in each spoonful with the energy of someone trying to chew away his feelings.
The rainbow-colored loops swam around in oat milk while his phone played Jake Cooper's latest smug monologue, and every spoonful seemed to taste more like resentment than breakfast.
Sunlight streamed through the loft's floor-to-ceiling windows, giving everything that crisp, golden-hour glow influencers dream about. But Noah wasn't paying attention to the light, or the artisanal oat milk in his coffee, or the smoothie blender still humming behind him.
His focus was glued to his phone, where Jake Cooper's latest video was playing—loud, smug, and very familiar.
Jake leaned into the camera, his hoodie and blazer combo perfectly "on brand" for his whole off-duty-intellectual shtick. "You know the type," he said smoothly. "The guys who think quoting Aristotle on their gym reels makes them enlightened. As if flexing in slow motion makes you a philosopher."
Noah squinted at the screen.
Jake smirked, lifting a coffee mug. "Shout-out to the creators whose entire brand is one motivational quote away from a protein fart."
Noah snorted. "Wow. Still reaching for that low-hanging fruit, huh?"
He paused the video mid-smirk and placed the phone face-down, sighing through his nose.
Jake had always done this—threw indirect punches and then played coy when called out. But ever since Noah got married—especially to someone Jake had a little too much interest in—he'd ramped things up. Subtle digs. "Coincidental" timing. And now this.
He took another bite of toast.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang, sharp and unexpected.
Noah blinked at the time. 7:58 a.m.? Who comes around this early? He frowned and stood up, padding barefoot across the hardwood.
He opened the door—and immediately regretted it.
Jake stood on the threshold, coffee in hand, perfectly smug in a tailored wool coat.
"Morning, sunshine," Jake said like they were old friends. "Didn't think I'd beat you to breakfast."
Noah's posture stiffened. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Jake raised a brow. "Wow. Why so hostile, bro? Didn't you like my last video?"
Noah crossed his arms. "As unoriginal as always."
"Harsh. But fair," Jake said with a grin. "Still, I didn't come just to hear your review."
Noah's eyes narrowed. "Then what?"
Jake sipped his coffee slowly. "I'm here to see your wife."
The word landed like a slap.
Before Noah could respond, footsteps echoed down the hall.
Lexi appeared, radiant in a black pantsuit that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her makeup was subtle, her ponytail sharp. She looked like a woman who made deals before breakfast and broke hearts before lunch.
"Oh hey, Jake! Sorry I'm not quite ready," she said, breezing past Noah toward the coat rack.
Jake's whole energy shifted. "No worries, Lex. Take your time. I'm just enjoying the view."
Noah's blood simmered.
Lexi turned toward him, oblivious. "We're just grabbing breakfast to talk through a collab idea."
Noah stared. "And you weren't going to mention this?"
Lexi blinked. "I didn't know I had to run every move past you."
"I made your favorite smoothie," he said, voice clipped. "With oat milk. And kiwi."
Lexi paused. "You're allergic to kiwi."
"I can touch it, I just can't eat it."
She hesitated, something flickering behind her eyes, then rushed to the kitchen. She returned seconds later with the smoothie in a travel cup. "Thanks," she murmured, genuinely.
Noah's throat tightened, but he said nothing.
She reached for her heels. Jake looked between them with thinly veiled amusement.
"I'll try to get your wife back in one piece," he said to Noah, winking.
Noah's fists curled at his sides.
Lexi glanced at Jake, then Noah, sensing the weirdness but too rushed to unpack it. "I'll be back later," she said, then slipped out the door.
Jake followed, tipping his cup at Noah.
The door closed.
Noah stood there in the silence. Breathing. Thinking.
Then he turned and smacked the wall with the flat of his palm—not hard, but enough to echo.
⸻
Meanwhile, across the city…
Molly Carlton reclined on her penthouse balcony, basking in the winter sun like a spoiled cat in designer silk.
A tray of tropical fruit and cucumber water sat untouched beside her. Her phone played lo-fi music she didn't even like—she just thought it made her seem chill.
The sliding door opened behind her.
Joseph stepped out, impeccably dressed, holding a black folder.
"Ms. Carlton."
She didn't open her eyes. "You better give me something good this time."
"I think I did," he said, stepping closer.
She opened one eye, extended a hand, and took the folder.
Her gaze moved across the pages. A silence stretched. Her lips parted. Then curled.
She sat up slowly. "Oh… perfect."
Her voice purred with satisfaction.
"This will make Noah dump that bitch for sure."
Joseph lingered. Waiting to get paid.
Molly rolled her eyes, snatched her phone off the table, and sent the transfer. His phone chimed a second later.
"You can leave."
He turned.
"Wait," she added, a glint in her eyes. "You want to make another hundred grand?"
Joseph paused. "I'm listening."
Molly smiled, slow and sinister.
⸻
At Albany Medical Center–
Later That Day
Gia balanced a paper bag of pastries and a bouquet of colorful gerberas as she stepped off the elevator, making her way toward the oncology ward.
She hated hospitals. Not because they were sad, but because they always smelled like sanitized endings.
As she turned the corner toward room 304, she collided with someone—hard.
"Crap—! I'm so sorry," she gasped, trying to save the bouquet.
Two hands steadied her.
"No, no—it was me. I wasn't looking."
She looked up.
Lucas.
In scrubs. Stethoscope around his neck. Blue eyes wide. Mouth slightly parted in surprise.
He smiled. "Gia?"
Her eyes lit up. "Lucas. Hi! Wow—I didn't know you worked here."
"I didn't know you visited here."
They both laughed awkwardly.
"I'm good," she said, answering a question he hadn't asked.
"Yeah. Me too. Uh… how's everything?"
Gia smiled. "I'm here visiting my aunt Olivia. Stage four lung cancer."
Lucas blinked. "Wait. Olivia in 304?"
Gia nodded.
"She's your aunt?" he said, surprised. "She's been trying to set me up with her niece for weeks."
Gia's jaw dropped. "You're the hot doctor she keeps talking about?"
Lucas chuckled and scratched the back of his neck, blushing. "Apparently."
A beat passed.
"So," he said. "Any chance I could interest you in bad cafeteria lunch and medium-good company?"
Gia grinned. "Only if you sit on the side that's not sunburned from Olivia's personality."
Lucas smiled. "Deal."
They agreed to meet by the reception after she'd visited aunt Olivia.