Page 149 of The Temporary Bride

“No rush, per se,” she replies. “I’m just excited.”

“What do you have going on today?”

“I’m meeting with the screenwriter for the first project at Warbler Studios,” Chloe says, her eyes lighting up. “We’re going to brainstorm some ideas and get the ball rolling. It’s the first big step toward making everything a reality.”

I nod, watching her so animated and full of energy. It does more to fill me than breakfast. “Sounds like a big day. It must feel amazing to finally be stepping into this role.”

She beams at me, her excitement obvious. “It really does. I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for so long. Now that it’s here, I just can’t wait to dive in and start working on it.”

I did this for her. Every decision, every move, every bit of effort that went into making Warbler Studios a reality was meant to bring her happiness, to give her the chance to chase her dreams. Seeing her light up with excitement about her first project, hearing her talk about the screenwriter and the plans, it’s clear she’s found something she’s passionate about.

But it’s not just about making her happy. I know that her success is going to be a tremendous asset for Thorne Enterprises. Chloe has a vision and a talent that’s undeniable, and it’s going to transform the movie world. We’ve taken a bold step with this new direction, and I have no doubt she’s going to lead it to great heights.

She’s going to make waves in this industry—that’s a given. And I can’t wait to see it happen.

“You’ve got that meeting today, don’t you?” Chloe asks.

The reminder dims my mood slightly. “Yeah, I do.”

A few days ago, my mother reached out to me and my brothers, requesting that all of us convene at her house. While I don’t know exactly what this is about, I have a decent idea, and the last thing we need is that kind of upheaval in our lives.

Chloe’s eyes narrow with concern. “What do you think it could be?”

I shrug, an uneasy knot tightening in my stomach. “I have a few guesses.” I glance at her, seeing the worry in her eyes, and I reach out to squeeze her hand. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m just not looking forward to the added stress.”

Chloe nods, giving me a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you’ll handle it. Just remember, you’ve got me in your corner.”

Her words help. I lean forward to kiss her forehead. Then, together, we head upstairs to get dressed.

We all pull up to my mother’s house around the same time, the five of us in our respective cars.

“Any updates on the lawsuit?” Gabriel asks me as we head up the walkway.

“Had a call with the lawyers this morning,” I answer, casting a glance toward my other brothers, who are listening too. “Discovery turned up everything we needed and then some. Vincent’s lawyers have already started floating settlement language, which means he knows he’s in deep shit.”

Reid snorts. “He’s panicking.”

“He should.” Dominic’s voice is hard. “There’s no fucking way MediaSphere will make it through this intact. The only question now is how much of a hit he takes.”

I grin at my brothers. We can all be cutthroat when we want to be, and this is a situation where we definitely all wanted to go for the jugular.

Beckett shakes his head, a satisfied edge to his expression. “Good. And speaking of planning, have any of you thought about which one of us Mom’s going to try to marry off next?”

There it is, the thing we all suspected, finally spoken aloud. Now that the ice is broken, Reid huffs a breath and mutters, “Well, I guess we’re about to find out, aren’t we?”

“I don’t envy any of you for that,” Gabriel says, his hands in his pockets.

We exchange looks, each of us trying to gauge the others’ reactions. There’s a shared sense of apprehension as we enter the house. The familiarity of the place feels strangely comforting amidst the uncertainty, although the stakes today seem higher than usual.

My mother’s personal assistant opens the door and ushers the five of us into the living room. Each of us takes a seat on the plush couches, except Dominic, who prefers to be on his feet. He paces near the fireplace, his expression grim.

After a few minutes of silence, broken only by the ticking of my mother’s antique grandfather clock, the door opens again. My mother enters the room, calm as always. She’s dressed impeccably, a small sign of the authority she still holds despite everything that’s happened.

“Thank you all for coming,” she says. “I know you’re all busy, but I appreciate you making time for family affairs.”

We all nod in acknowledgment, but the tension in the room is heavy. My mother takes a seat in her favorite armchair, the one by the window that looks out onto the garden. Her gaze sweeps over us, lingering for a moment on each face before she begins.

“I’ll get straight into it,” she says. “We need to discuss the rest of your marriages.”