There are a hundred ways to break a girl.
My mother uses silence.
My father? Leverage.
But Jackson?
He uses love.
The twisted, sharp-edged kind you think is safe until you realize it's been pointed at your throat the whole time.
It breaks on a Sunday.
A day the city tries to pretend is sacred. Coffee shops open late. White House staff wear pastels like it hides their sins. Reporters pause long enough to ask about brunch before going for your throat.
Killian and I are back at the East Wing suite — not because it's safe, but because it's where the narrative says we should be: still married, still united, still pretending.
I'm sipping scalding coffee when Eva barges in without knocking.
Her face is pale. Her phone is shaking.
"You need to see this."
I take the phone.
My stomach drops.
BREAKING NEWS
Jackson Hale Engaged to Senator Langley's Daughter
"A union of power, patriotism, and promise."
There's a picture.
Of him.
In a suit I bought him.
Kneeling.
