Page 116 of The Paradise Problem

I push on, twisting my fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “I know we only just reconnected, and I know we’re still new—wait, I think we broke up but can we get back together?”

“Anna,” he says more firmly, and I panic because what if he doesn’t want to give this a go anymore?

“No, Liam, let me say this, because with context all of it makes sense now. I get why you almost took the job. But then you didn’t?” I ask. “Did you decide it wasn’t worth it? Because I fucking agree! Even though you needed the money for your foundation. God, you are amazing. Do you know that?” I frown, a little. “Well… I still don’t love that you bought the paintings but—” Liam takes one step to the side and color catches my eyes. “Oh. Oh.” I clap a hand over my mouth. There she is: Freesia 2 just behind him on the wall. He already hung my paintings?

I burst into tears again. “Oh my God, okay, I forgive you. Oh my God, you were right, the movie version is actually really romantic, and you put it up there, which means maybe you still want to make a go of this?” I search his eyes, which have gone warm with amusement. “I want to be your girlfriend. Your wife.” I wince at this, recalibrating. “Maybe let’s date until the wife thing feels right? Whatever my label is, I would very much like to go out on that porch and tell every asshole out there exactly where they can shove their news cycle.”

Liam steps forward, cupping my face and kissing me firmly on the mouth. He pulls away an inch to say, “Anna. Please shut up.”

I gasp in offense and then melt into confusion. “That… was a very perplexing sequence of actions.”

“First, I need you to know how talented you are.” He looks briefly over his shoulder and then back at me. There is absolute wonder in his eyes. “Other than you, standing here in my living room, these paintings are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re really good at this flattery thing,” I say through tears.

He lifts his chin to something behind me, and I turn to see—well, let me start by saying his place is fucking amazing. No wonder he didn’t want his old couch. Second: he’s got CNN on the screen.

“No! Why are you watching this?” I ask, bending to look for the remote. “This isn’t good for you!”

But he urges me upright, leaning over my shoulder and pointing. “Anna. Look.”

I focus on the screen and when my mind calms long enough, I’m able to register what I’m seeing.

Or, rather, who.

On the television is a replay of Alex, from some unknown number of minutes ago, speaking into a microphone somewhere familiar, but which I can’t immediately place. Below him, the chyron reads:

Alex Weston: “My father stalked and harassed employees. Liam never engaged in any predatory or illegal activities.”

“Whoa,” I mumble. “That happened way faster than I expected.”

Liam turns me back to face him. “What do you mean?”

“I saw the PISA stuff on the news and flipped out. The only number I had other than yours and Jake’s was Reagan’s, and I assumed Jake was on a plane. Blaire answered and told me everything, including about your foundation. That’s when I realized I had to test my theory that your siblings would follow the money.”

Liam laughs. “Well, you’re right.” He lifts his chin to the screen. “He’s still in Singapore.” That’s why it looks familiar. He’s outside the Crowne Plaza Changi. “He realized Dad really was going to bring me on as CEO and I think he finally snapped. He didn’t get on the plane. And then, apparently, Blaire called him, screaming about the loophole. She said she’d stay married to him, but not if they were broke.”

“Holy shit. And Alex gave a press conference?”

“Well, conference is a generous term,” he says, laughing. “There were only a couple journalists nearby when he had the comms team alert the media, but it’s picked up everywhere now. He said, basically, that while I did develop the software, none of the surveillance of personal data or harassment came from my computers. Dad had his shady lawyer drop the news before Dad got on the plane. But Alex responded by having the tech team release the IP logs.”

“That was a big gamble for Alex,” I say. “Your dad won’t react well to this when he lands.”

“I don’t think it matters. The board knows. And soon the Fed will know that Dad dumped a huge amount of stock just before he did this. Dad is out as CEO, and in a shitload of trouble.”

I stare up at Liam and he gazes down at me, his amber eyes gleaming. “How do you feel?” I ask.

His face moves through a few expressions—a smile, a wince, and then he closes his eyes and my heart twists painfully when his face just… breaks. He cups a hand over his brow, shielding his eyes, and his voice comes out thick. “I feel really fucking relieved.” He pulls in a jagged breath. “This has been my biggest fear for years. That Dad would drop the worst of it, that it would leak, that it all would get pinned on me again and it would destroy everything I’ve worked for.”

I don’t know what to do with all of these emotions, but some bodily instinct does, because I step close, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my face to that perfect space between his neck and shoulder. “Oh, sweetie.”

“I knew there was more, you know?” he says, and folds me into his arms. “My family didn’t talk about it specifically, but I always knew there was much worse stuff out there. He used me the first time and it was just horrible. My name was kept mostly out of the press, but everyone in our circle knew who it was. Professors in my business program looked at me differently.” He swallows. “I switched majors. Decided to turn to academia. I knew my dad could totally ruin me again, and worse, but I never really thought he would. I just thought, ‘If I can keep my distance, if I can find another career, if I can be married, settled elsewhere, he’ll move on. I can do good from the outside, with the foundation. He won’t expect me to come back.’ I realized at the wedding that I was wrong. He hadn’t moved on, and he still had that leverage.”

“Not anymore,” I say.

He exhales a huge breath and laughs through tears. “Not anymore. Because of you.”

“And the trust?”

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