Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
“Holy shit. Kane—”
“They had a right to be mad.” He shudders, like he needs to get this out and doesn’t want my sympathy. “But I couldn’t live with empowering a company that lied to me so they could fuck over people’s livelihoods. I was done. I left, leaving a big hole of rumors behind.”
“Kane.” I catch his face and bring it down to mine, kissing him tenderly. “It’s not your fault.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
“You had good intentions. You brought people together for something they might not have ever noticed. And you did it all to help artists, not ruin them.”
“Whatever I intended, it blew up in my face. You know the controversies with AI? Especially with creators?” he asks tonelessly.
“I know enough.”
Like how tons of hardworking artists are up in arms about it.
Too often, AI isn’t just a supplement or a helper—it’s a devious hijacker. Creative works get scraped and fed into the engines to train the system to think better, until eventually it beats human talent at its own game.
Even as a budding shoe designer who doesn’t need to worry about money, it makes me worry.
Will there ever be a place for my designers if they’re good enough? Or will they be mowed down by machines that can vomit a hundred new concepts per hour?
No, you can’t stop progress, but you also can’t change the facts.
And when inventions start chipping away at the human soul because they’re faster and cheaper and easier, well…
“You know you have to stop blaming yourself, right?” I hold his face between my hands. “I know that’s just talk. But you can either choose to believe that, or you can choose not to, but you’re carrying a burden that isn’t yours. If you’re going to blame someone, blame the guys who screwed you. Blame the people who took what you tried to do and twisted it.”
“Margot—” His voice is rough. Angry.
“No. A man with the best intentions, who refused to stick around to support a company he doesn’t believe in, doesn’t get to fall on his sword for their BS.”
I kiss him again, and this time he kisses me back. Hard.
“Don’t know what the fuck I did to deserve you. But I’m going to keep on doing it.”
“Then try to forgive yourself, okay?” I stare at him fiercely. “And you never know… maybe there’ll be a time when the truth comes out. People will forgive you if they hear your side of the story. But first, you have to forgive yourself.”
His hand slides down my back, sealing me against him.
We’re still damp and cool from the shower, but none of that matters with the feel of his skin against mine.
“Does that mean you’ll stay?” he asks between hungry kisses.
“I can’t believe you took this long to tell me.”
“Margot, I ruined people’s lives.” He leans back to caress my cheek.
“No, Kane. Greedy assholes ruined lives. Not you. And maybe the OptiSynth hacks made you feel like it’s your fault, but they need to take a good, hard look in the mirror, and stop smearing the name of the one man who had integrity.” I stop, breathing heavily.
His smile warms me like the sun.
“I love it when you get worked up. My little defender.”
“If I don’t, who else will?” I warn. “Seriously, anyone who tries to make you responsible for this—”
“Go easy. I won’t put you in a place where you need to fight on my behalf,” he says, kissing me again.
But before he can push me back on the bed and undo the shower, there’s a soft thud from downstairs.
“They’re up,” Kane whispers against my mouth.
“Then the only thing we need to worry about now is breakfast.” Laughing, I rest my thumbs on his cheekbones, stroking his face until he relaxes.
20
GLASS HOUSES (KANE)
The kids don’t know how close we came to losing the woman they’re wild about.
By the time we made it downstairs and found Dan waiting impatiently at the table, all evidence of Margot trying to leave was gone.
I’m glad we moved those damn suitcases in time.
Yes, I could’ve explained it, and they’re good kids. They might have understood.
They know our time hasn’t gotten any easier between the break-in and the town gossip mill, so if she went home for safety and sanity, they’d get it.
But that wouldn’t have been the whole story.
And I’m glad as hell I don’t have to lie through my teeth.
I make breakfast while Margot chats with Dan about the War of 1812 and the drummer boy figurine he’s still obsessed with.
A few minutes later, Sophie comes down, having finished her fantasy book, and she takes her usual spot next to Dan.
We eat as one family again.
One big, cozy, loaded word I can’t believe I’m enjoying.
It’s been too long.
Even when I was married, we didn’t eat together often with our schedules. Even when we had the time, Daria would usually skip out with a smoothie on her way to the gym and then a photo shoot.