The response came faster than Kiera expected.
Not a call. Not a threat.
A gift.
By dawn, the city was buzzing with a new story—quietly at first, then louder, spreading through channels that mattered. An anonymous donation. Seven figures. Directed to a private foundation that supported survivors of domestic abuse and human trafficking.
The foundation Kiera had volunteered with years ago.
She stood in the kitchen, phone in hand, rereading the article for the fifth time. Her name wasn't mentioned. Neither was Kade's. But she recognized the signature style immediately. Alistair didn't hide when he wanted to be seen. He reframed.
"He's rewriting the narrative," Kade said behind her.
She didn't turn. "He's daring me to react."
Kade poured coffee, movements precise. "He's also warning you. He's saying he can look benevolent while destroying you privately."
Kiera finally faced him. "He thinks morality will slow me down."
"And will it?" Kade asked.
