The Marone Heir

 

The day Ridge Forrester was ousted from Forrester Creations marked the beginning of a new chapter in his life—a chapter of revelation, reinvention, and the emergence of a new Ridge.

As he walked out of Forrester Creations, his left hand resting in a sling from a severe cut, staff members gathered to bid him farewell and thank him for his years of leadership. Ridge had no idea what lay ahead of him.

Enter Massimo Marone—Stephanie's former lover, who, unbeknownst to both Eric and Ridge, was actually Ridge's biological father. Massimo approached Ridge with an intriguing offer: come to work for Marone Industries, learn the business from the ground up, and reinvent himself.

Ridge accepted.

Before long, he found himself settling into his new office at Marone Industries. He immersed himself in the company, learning every aspect of the business. As his confidence grew, he began acquiring several small but promising fashion houses, recognizing potential where others saw risk.

Eric Forrester was devastated by Ridge's departure and repeatedly tried to convince him to return to Forrester Creations. Brooke Logan, Ridge's longtime on-again, off-again love, also made numerous attempts to persuade him to come back.

Neither succeeded.

Then tragedy struck.

Taylor, Ridge's beloved wife, was killed by Sheila Carter.

The loss shattered Ridge and his children—Thomas, Phoebe, and Steffy. Together they mourned the woman who had been the heart of their family. Eric, Brooke, Stephanie, and countless others shared in their grief, struggling to come to terms with Taylor's death.

For Ridge, however, the pain cut deeper than anyone realized. The future he had envisioned with Taylor was gone, leaving behind a void that no amount of success, wealth, or family support could fill.

And yet, Ridge carried on.

His determination fueled him through the pain and uncertainty. All the while, however, he remained unaware of a truth that would change his life forever—a truth that would ultimately be revealed by Massimo Marone.

A year into his tenure at Marone Industries, Massimo walked into Ridge's office.

"Ridge, I need to talk to you," Massimo said.

Ridge looked up from his desk.

“What about?”

Massimo took a deep breath as he studied the man before him—his son and heir.

He knew that what he was about to reveal could either bring them closer together or tear them apart. He hoped for the former but had prepared himself for the latter. Despite the promise he had made to Stephanie never to tell Ridge the truth, keeping this secret no longer felt right.

Ridge deserved to know.

Besides, every day seemed to confirm what Massimo had known for some time now: Ridge was unquestionably his son.

The determination. The cunning. The business instinct.

Those traits came from Massimo, not Eric.

Yes, Ridge was a talented designer, but that belonged to his old life. Massimo had watched him settle into his new role and flourish. Ridge wasn't merely adapting to life at Marone Industries—he was thriving.

“There is something I need to tell you,” Massimo began. “And I want you to understand that I'm not telling you this to create problems between you and Eric. I'm telling you because it's the truth... and because I love you.”

Ridge gave him a curious look.

“Go on.”

“Ridge, have you ever noticed how much you and I are alike? The same determination. The same way of thinking. The same instincts.”

Ridge considered the question.

The truth was, he had noticed it. The similarities between himself and Massimo were undeniable—perhaps even greater than those between himself and Eric.

“Yes,” Ridge admitted. “It has occurred to me that we're alike in many ways.”

Massimo nodded slowly.

“That's because you're my son.”

Ridge frowned.

“Your son?”

“Yes,” Massimo replied. “My son. My flesh and blood.”

Ridge immediately rose from his chair.

“Excuse me?” he said. “How can that be? How is that even possible? Eric Forrester is my father. He raised me. He loved me. He taught me values that I still hold dear.”

“And none of that changes,” Massimo said gently. “But what I'm telling you is the truth, Ridge. You are my son.”

Ridge searched Massimo's face.

There was no hesitation in his eyes. No deception.

Only conviction.

Yet none of it made sense.

Sensing his confusion, Massimo continued.

“Back when your mother and I were in college, we were in love. Then she met Eric, and neither of us ever realized she might be pregnant.”

Massimo paused before continuing.

“I discovered the truth after your accident in my office. You lost a great deal of blood. When you needed a transfusion, Eric wasn't a match.”

Ridge's eyes widened.

“But I was,” Massimo said quietly. “It was then that your mother and I realized the truth. You are my son.”

Ridge stared at him in stunned silence.

Everything inside him wanted to reject what he was hearing.

Yet somewhere deep within, he knew Massimo was telling the truth.

And if that was true...

Then Eric didn't know.

Slowly, Ridge sat back down. He rested his elbows on the desk, clasped his hands together, and lowered his chin onto them as he tried to process the revelation.

Massimo remained silent.

His heart pounded in his chest.

Finally, Ridge spoke.

“Give me a moment.”

“Of course,” Massimo replied.

Without another word, he turned and left the office.

Once outside the door, Massimo released a long breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He closed his eyes briefly and offered a silent prayer.

He could only hope that when Ridge emerged from that office, he wouldn't walk away from him forever.

II

Ridge sat alone in his office, allowing Massimo's words to sink in.

He had so many questions.

Questions that stirred a growing anger within him, tightening his chest with every passing moment.

How could his mother have kept this from him?

And why?

He needed answers.

Without hesitation, he picked up the phone and dialed Stephanie's number.

Across town, Stephanie answered the ringing phone in her office.

“Hello?” she said.

“Mother, we need to talk.”

The sternness in Ridge's voice immediately caught her attention.

“Ridge, what's wrong?” Stephanie asked.

“I need you to come to my office... now.”

Stephanie frowned.

“Now?”

“NOW!”

The force of Ridge's bellow made her flinch before the line suddenly went dead.

Slowly, Stephanie lowered the receiver.

Ridge had just shouted at her.

Something was terribly wrong.

Her hand trembled as she hung up the phone. Then a dreadful realization struck her.

Closing her eyes, she let out a weary sigh.

“Massimo,” she whispered softly, “please tell me you didn't.”

❖ ✦ ❖

A short time later, Stephanie arrived at Marone Industries.

Standing outside Ridge's office, she stared at the closed door.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

She knew what this was about, and the thought filled her with dread.

After a moment, she raised her hand and knocked.

“Come in, Mother,” Ridge's voice called from the other side of the door.

Stephanie took a deep breath, steadied herself, and walked inside.

Ridge stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, gazing out at the city below.

“I’m here,” Stephanie said quietly. “What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

Ridge slowly turned toward her and fixed her with a cold stare.

“How could you, Mother?” he demanded. “How could you keep this from me? From Dad?”

Stephanie sighed heavily.

“I didn't know in the beginning. When I discovered I was pregnant, I assumed Eric was your father. It never occurred to me that Massimo could be your biological father. It wasn't until your accident that I learned the truth.”

“And after you learned the truth, you decided to keep it from me?” Ridge asked. “Why?”

“To protect you,” Stephanie replied. “To protect our family. To protect your father. After all, Eric is the only father you've ever known.”

She spoke calmly, but there was a nervous tremor in her voice.

Ridge stood silently, allowing her words to sink in.

She was right.

However, it didn't erase his anger.

But it did help him understand why.

“Ridge,” Stephanie said softly, “yes, Massimo is your biological father. But Eric raised you. You are Eric's son.”

Ridge nodded thoughtfully.

“You're right,” he said. “But there's something else.”

Stephanie frowned.

“What's that?”

“While I was waiting for you to arrive, I did a lot of thinking.”

He paused before continuing.

“Yes, I was born into the Forrester family. I was raised as a Forrester. But when I think about what happened...” he said. "Brooke pushed me out of Forrester Creations in favor of Rick, Amber, and Deacon. I was furious. I lost the use of my drawing hand. I didn't know what I was going to do with my life.”

His gaze drifted toward the city skyline.

“Then Massimo stepped in.”

Ridge walked toward Stephanie.

Her heart began to race.

“Yes, Massimo has manipulated people. He's schemed. And he helped keep this secret. But he also offered me something no one else did.”

Stephanie listened intently.

“He gave me a second chance,” Ridge continued. “A chance to start over. A chance to reinvent myself. He helped me discover a side of myself I never knew existed.”

His voice softened.

“And when Taylor died, he was there.”

The pain of that loss briefly flashed across Ridge's face.

“He grieved with all of us. But he also encouraged me when I needed it most. He believed in me when I wasn't sure I believed in myself.”

Ridge shook his head and let out a small laugh.

“Hell, the longer I stand here and think about it, the more I realize just how much he and I are alike.”

Stephanie's expression tightened.

“What are you saying, Ridge?”

“I'm saying that Rick, Amber, Deacon, and Brooke can have Forrester Creations,” Ridge replied firmly. “They can have it for as long as they can keep it.”

A smile slowly appeared on his face.

“As for me... this is where I belong.”

He gestured around the office.

“This is the next chapter of my life. And for the first time in a long time, I'm excited!.”

The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

Stephanie stared at her son.

When Ridge was forced out of Forrester Creations, she feared that it would destroy him.

Instead, it had transformed him.

“Does that mean you've forgiven me?” she asked quietly.

Despite her composed expression, her heart continued to pound.

Ridge looked at her for a long moment.

Yes, he was angry.

Yes, he felt betrayed.

But he also knew that everything Stephanie had done—right or wrong—had been motivated by love.

She was his mother.

And despite the pain her secret had caused, he could not stop loving her.

A faint smile touched his lips.

“Of course I forgive you.”

Relief immediately washed over Stephanie's face.

Then Ridge's expression grew serious again.

“But now we have a much bigger problem.”

Stephanie blinked.

“What problem?”

Ridge folded his arms.

“How do we tell Dad?”

The question hung heavily in the air between them.

Neither of them had an answer.

III

Massimo sat alone in his office.

His heart pounded. His chest felt tight. Tears welled in his eyes.

He was afraid.

Afraid of losing his son—the son he had only recently come to know.

He couldn't lose him.

If Ridge decided to leave, Massimo would find a way to convince him to stay. He would do whatever it took.

A few moments later, the door to his office opened.

Massimo immediately looked up.

Ridge walked in, with Stephanie following close behind.

Massimo rose from his chair and was about to speak when Ridge raised a hand.

“I have something to say,” Ridge said. “And I want you to hear me out.”

Massimo nodded.

“Go on.”

Ridge took a deep breath.

“I'm not happy about you and Mother keeping this secret from me. Not even close. But I understand why she asked you to keep it. And I understand why you finally told me.”

Massimo's eyes softened.

“Because you're my son.”

“Massimo, please,” Ridge said firmly, though there was no anger in his voice.

Massimo nodded.

“Continue.”

Ridge folded his arms and gathered his thoughts.

“While I was waiting for Mother to arrive so I could confront her, I spent a lot of time thinking.”

He looked directly at Massimo.

“Yes, you've schemed. You've manipulated people. And yes, you helped keep this secret from me.”

“But that's not the whole story.”

Massimo continue to look at Ridge.

“When I lost everything at Forrester Creations, you were there. When I thought my life was over, you gave me a second chance. You gave me an opportunity to start a new chapter.”

Ridge paused.

“And when Taylor died...”

The pain briefly crossed his face.

“You grieved alongside me. You didn't just offer condolences—you stood by me. You encouraged me when I wanted to give up.”

Massimo swallowed hard.

“In my time here, I've realized something. I'm more like you than I ever imagined. You push me when I need pushing. You challenge me when I'm being stubborn. And when I need support, you're there.”

A faint smile appeared on Ridge's face.

“You also know when to kick me in the ass when I'm being too hard-headed.”

Massimo chuckled through his emotion.

“Dare I say that's something you inherited from both me and your mother?”

Ridge smirked.

“I'd have to agree.”

The tension in the room eased.

Then Ridge stepped forward.

He placed his hands on Massimo's arms and looked him directly in the eyes.

“I want you to know something.”

Massimo waited.

“I'm not leaving Marone Industries.”

Massimo blinked.

“What?”

“I'm staying.”

The words hit Massimo like a wave.

Relief flooded through him.

“Ridge...”

“This is where I belong,” Ridge continued. “This company gave me a fresh start. It gave me a chance to discover who I am beyond being a Forrester.”

Massimo nodded silently.

“And what about us?” he asked quietly. “As father and son?”

Ridge was silent for a moment.

“I can't erase my life," he finally said. "I can't forget growing up as Eric Forrester's son. That would be unfair to him. Cruel, even.”

Massimo listened carefully.

“Eric raised me. He loved me. He taught me everything he could.”

Then Ridge smiled.

“But what I can do—and what I intend to do—is move forward.”

Massimo's breath caught.

“You are my father,” Ridge said. “And I want us to build a father-son relationship.”

Tears filled Massimo's eyes.

“Even if you can be a bastard sometimes.”

Massimo laughed.

Ridge grinned.

“Then again, I've recently discovered that I can be a bastard too.”

The two men laughed before embracing.

For the first time in their lives, they embraced not as business partners, not as mentor and protégé, but as father and son.

Stephanie watched quietly.

Relief washed over her, mixed with a deep sense of guilt.

She knew what was coming next.

Once Eric learned the truth, he would be devastated.

There was no way around it.

Yet she couldn't deny what she was witnessing.

A father and son finding each other.

A bond that should have existed years ago finally taking shape.

After a moment, Stephanie cleared her throat.

“I have something to say.”

Ridge and Massimo turned toward her.

“What is it, Mother?” Ridge asked.

Stephanie took a deep breath.

“I feel terrible for keeping this from you after I learned the truth.”

Her voice trembled.

“I told myself I was protecting you. Protecting Eric. Protecting our family.”

She glanced at Massimo.

“And perhaps part of me was protecting myself.”

Neither man interrupted.

“But standing here now, seeing the love and respect between the two of you... I can't deny it.”

She smiled sadly.

“So I want you both to know that I support this.”

Massimo's eyes widened.

Stephanie nodded.

“I support both of you.”

Emotion filled the room.

Then Stephanie straightened her shoulders.

“And I will be the one to tell Eric the truth.”

“No, Mother.”

Ridge walked over to her.

Stephanie looked up at him.

Ridge gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You won't do this alone.”

Stephanie's eyes filled with tears.

Ridge glanced at Massimo before looking back at her.

“The two of us will tell him.”

Silence filled the room.

All three of them knew what lay ahead.

The hardest conversation of their lives.

IV

Eric paced back and forth across the living room of the Forrester mansion.

Thorne, Kristen, and Felicia were there as well. Thorne tried to calm his father while Kristen and Felicia sat on the sofa, watching him anxiously.

“Did Ridge say what he wanted to talk about?” Thorne asked.

Eric shook his head.

“No. He only said it was important and that he didn't want to discuss it over the phone.”

Felicia folded her arms.

“Why did you let Brooke push him out in the first place, Dad?” she asked angrily.

Eric sighed before Kristen spoke.

“Things had gotten tense, Felicia. Ridge could have stayed if he had been willing to put aside his ego for the good of the company.”

“What good?” Felicia shot back. “All Brooke has done is bring unhappiness to this family. She went from Ridge to Dad to Thorne—and just about every other man in between.”

“Now that's enough!” Eric bellowed.

The room fell silent.

A moment later, the front door opened.

Stephanie and Ridge walked inside.

Everyone immediately turned toward them.

“I see everyone's here,” Ridge said.

“What is this about, Ridge?” Thorne asked.

Ridge glanced at Stephanie.

She took a deep breath before speaking.

“Eric, when Ridge had his accident in Massimo's office and needed a blood transfusion, you weren't a match.”

A puzzled look crossed Eric's face.

“What do you mean I wasn't a match?”

“Your blood wasn't compatible with his,” Stephanie replied quietly. “But Massimo's was.”

Eric stared at her.

“What are you talking about?”

Stephanie swallowed hard.

“Eric... Ridge is not your biological son.”

The room went completely silent.

Eric's eyes widened in disbelief.

“How?” he asked. “How can that be?”

Stephanie lowered her gaze.

“Before you and I met, Massimo and I were involved. We were together briefly, and we slept together once before we went our separate ways. Then I met you. We fell in love, and when I discovered I was pregnant, I naturally assumed the child was yours.”

Eric stood motionless.

The words slowly sank in.

Everything he thought he knew was suddenly being called into question.

“Dad,” Ridge said softly, stepping forward, “I want you to know that none of this changes how I feel about you. You raised me. You loved me. You taught me. You are my father.”

Eric looked at him, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

“But?”

Ridge sighed.

“But I also find myself wanting to know Massimo. To build a father-son relationship with him.”

Eric's expression twisted with anger and disbelief.

“Why?" he demanded. "Why, Ridge? After everything that man has done to you? To me? To this family?”

Ridge nodded.

“You're right. Massimo has manipulated people. He's schemed. He's made more than his share of mistakes.”

He paused.

“But that's not the whole story.”

Everyone listened.

“When I was forced out of Forrester Creations and injured my hand, I thought my life was over. I didn't know who I was anymore. I kept asking myself what I was supposed to do next. Where was I supposed to go after Forrester?”

Ridge glanced toward Stephanie before looking back at Eric.

“Massimo stepped in.”

Eric looked away.

“He offered me a job. He trained me. He challenged me. He helped me realize that I'm more than a fashion designer.”

Ridge's voice softened.

“And when Taylor died, he grieved right alongside all of us.”

The mention of Taylor brought pain to everyone's faces.

“He encouraged me to keep moving forward. Yes, all of you supported me too. But there was something different about the way he did it.”

Ridge smiled faintly.

“He challenged me. Pushed me. Kicked me in the ass when I needed it.”

A few reluctant smiles appeared around the room.

“And because of that, I've grown to love him too.”

Eric's heart pounded.

The pain was almost unbearable.

“What are you saying?” he asked quietly.

Ridge took a deep breath.

“I'm saying that you will always be my father. Nothing can change that.”

Eric looked up.

“But Massimo is my father too. And I want a relationship with him.”

The words hit Eric like a physical blow.

“And there's something else.”

The room grew tense.

“I'm staying at Marone Industries.”

Eric closed his eyes.

“I've found my place there. I'm thriving there. For the first time in a long time, I feel like my own man.”

His voice was steady.

“I won't be returning to Forrester Creations.”

Eric's composure finally broke.

Tears filled his eyes.

Hearing those words shattered what remained of his heart.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto the sofa.

No one spoke.

No one knew what to say.

Thorne, Kristen, and Felicia sat in stunned silence.

Then Felicia turned toward Eric.

“This is your fault.”

The room snapped to attention.

Eric looked up.

“If you hadn't let Brooke do whatever she wanted—if you had stood up for Ridge—none of this would be happening!”

“Felicia!” Kristen exclaimed.

“It's the truth!” Felicia shouted.

“Sis, don't do this.”

“No! Somebody needs to say it!”

“Now hold on!” Thorne barked.

The siblings fell silent.

Thorne turned toward Stephanie and Ridge.

His face was pale.

His voice shook.

“Mother... is all of this true?”

“Yes… it is,” Stephanie said softly, sadness in her voice.

Thorne looked at Ridge.

“So where does this leave us? Your siblings?”

“You, Kristen, and Felicia are still my siblings,” Ridge said. “We share memories — good ones. Those can’t be erased. The only difference now is that we don’t share the same parents.”

He placed a hand on Thorne’s shoulder.

“Thorne, I want you to step up. You don’t have to be what I was at Forrester Creations. Be your own kind of leader. Show them what you can do.”

Thorne’s expression softened. He smiled at his brother, and tears filled both their eyes as they embraced.

Kristen rose and crossed the room to Ridge.

“I’ll always support you,” she said. “I love you.”

“Thank you, Kristen,” Ridge murmured as they hugged.

Felicia, already in tears, wrapped her arms around him before she could speak.

“I know, sis,” Ridge whispered. “I love you too.”

Ridge then looked toward Eric. He walked over and sat beside him.

“This isn’t the end, Dad,” Ridge said gently.

“Then why does it feel like the end?” Eric’s voice trembled with grief.

“It’s not an ending,” Ridge said. “Things have simply changed. That’s all.”

Eric stared at him, wounded.

“How can you accept this so easily?”

Ridge saw the pain in his eyes and felt it twist inside him.

“There’s nothing I can say that will make this easier,” Ridge said quietly.

Eric nodded, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“So… where do we go from here?”

“We accept what’s happened,” Ridge said, “and we keep moving forward.”

❖ ✦ ❖

It didn’t take long for the revelation of Ridge Forrester’s true paternity to become public.

Reporters swarmed with questions. Fashion buyers began to doubt Forrester Creations, despite the success of their recent lines.

Even Brooke Logan was shaken by the news. But her son, Rick Forrester — Eric’s child — was thrilled. He was even more ecstatic when he learned Ridge would never return to Forrester Creations, clearing the path for him and his wife, Amber, to shape the company in their own image.

Brooke, however, didn’t see it that way.

She was heartbroken. She wanted Ridge back — hoped they might even find their way to each other again. But she wanted nothing to do with Massimo Marone.

One afternoon, unable to hold back any longer, she arrived at Marone Industries. She needed to see Ridge. Needed to speak to him.

She stood before his office door, heart pounding. She knocked.

“Yes?” Ridge called from inside.

“Ridge… it’s Brooke. We need to talk.”

Silence followed.

“Please, Ridge,” she said softly.

A long moment passed.

“Come in,” he said at last.

Brooke gripped the doorknob, steadied herself, and stepped inside.

Once inside, Brooke was caught off guard by the sheer size of Ridge’s office. But what stunned her even more was Ridge himself.

He no longer looked like the handsome, roguish man she had fallen in love with. He looked sleek. Stoic. Refined.

A man transformed.

She was impressed… and deeply unsettled.

“What do you want, Logan?” Ridge asked.

“To talk to you. To understand why,” Brooke said.

“Why what?” Ridge replied, his tone nonchalant.

That tone hit her like a slap. It confused her, and the confusion showed plainly on her face.

“What has happened to you?” she whispered.

Ridge sighed.

“Logan, I’ve changed. And for the better. I’m happy. I’m secure. And I finally know who I am.”

“Do you?” Brooke challenged. “Do you really know who you are?”

Ridge rose from behind his desk and walked toward her.

“I haven’t forgotten what you did to me,” he said. “But I don’t carry that grudge anymore. I’ve let it go. Being here… I’ve discovered things about myself I never would have known if I’d stayed at Forrester Creations. Oddly enough, what you did was a blessing in disguise.”

Brooke’s confusion deepened.

“Ridge, you’re not a Marone. You’re a Forrester. Always have been, always will be.”

“No, Brooke. That was my old life. And before you say anything—I haven’t forgotten about Dad, Thorne, Kristen, or Felicia. They’ll always be part of my life, and I’ll always be part of theirs. But the day I left Forrester was the day a new chapter opened. I’ve embraced it, and I don’t regret it.”

“And what about us?” Brooke asked. “Is there any room for us in this new chapter?”

Ridge looked at her.

Memories flickered through him—good, bad, passionate, painful. The cycle of loving her, losing her, loving her again.
And something deep inside him whispered:

Do you really want to go through this again? Do you really want to love her again?

“Brooke,” he said quietly, “this is my life now. I’ve embraced it with my whole being. The question is: can you accept it? Can you accept my life as it is now? Are you willing to walk with me, side by side, hand in hand, come what may?”

Brooke stared at him.

She loved him. She had loved him through everything—Thorne, Deacon, every mistake, every heartbreak. Ridge was the man she wanted. But the man standing before her now was not the Ridge she knew.

“Will you come back?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Come back to Forrester… come back to your family… come back to me?”

Ridge heard the desperation. But for the first time in his life, as Brooke stood before him… he felt nothing.
No anger.
No longing.
No love.

Whatever love he once had for her belonged to the man he used to be.

A ghost of the past.

“No, Brooke. I won’t return,” he said matter‑of‑factly.

“But why? We have history. A love that’s survived so much!”

“You said it yourself—we have history. But that’s all it is now. Just history. The past. I don’t want to return to the past. I want to step into the future. And my future is here.”

He met her eyes.

“So I’ll ask you again: can you accept this? Can you accept my life as it is now? Are you willing to walk with me, side by side, hand in hand, come what may?”

Brooke shook her head.

“No. No, I can’t.”

“Then, as I said… what we had is just the past.”

Brooke was silent. She searched his face, desperate to find some trace of the man she once knew. But all she saw was the man standing before her now.

Defeated, she turned and left his office, closing the door behind her. She held herself together as she walked toward the elevator. But the moment the doors slid shut, she broke down.

Ridge was lost to her now.

V

It was Friday — the end of the week.

Ridge had plans for the weekend, mostly to spend time with his family. But as he sat at his desk, something nagged at him. He’d been feeling it for days, though he couldn’t name it.

A knock sounded at his office door.

“Yes,” he answered.

The door opened, and Massimo stepped inside.

“Yes, Father?” Ridge said. He called Massimo Father, but Eric remained Dad.

“Ridge, I’d like you to meet someone,” Massimo said.

An older gentleman entered behind him. He had long, slightly curly gray hair pulled back, hazel eyes, and a warm toffee complexion that hinted at a mixed heritage.

“Ridge, this is Sebastian Aramis — a business associate of mine from New Orleans. He’s also one of my closest friends.”

Ridge stood and approached him.

“A pleasure to meet you.”

“An honor to meet you as well,” Sebastian replied, his Creole accent unmistakable. “Massimo never stops talking about you.”

Ridge let out a small chuckle as they shook hands.

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

Just then, a woman stepped in behind Sebastian. Her complexion matched his, her eyes a warm brown. Her dark brown hair was short, styled in elegant waves that framed her face beautifully. The dark grayish-pink dress she wore complemented her shapely curvaceous, full-hourglass figure perfectly.

“Ridge, this is my daughter, Siana,” Sebastian said.

“A pleasure to meet you,” she said with a smile.

Ridge froze for a moment, his gaze drifting before he caught himself. Her smile was striking, her eyes warm and friendly — but with a spark of curiosity behind them.

Massimo noticed and held back a smirk as he leaned toward Ridge.

“It’s not polite to stare, son,” he whispered.

Ridge snapped out of it.

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” he said, shaking her hand.

“What brings you both to L.A.?” Ridge asked.

“Business, for me anyway,” Sebastian said. “I brought my daughter along to get her out of New Orleans for a week. The furthest she’s traveled is Houston, where we have family.”

“Really, Daddy?” Siana said, giving him a playful look. “Must they know that?”

Sebastian chuckled.

Ridge found her accent intriguing — soft, warm, sensual with a hint of mischief. The Creole lilt only amplified it.

Sebastian smiled at his daughter, then turned back to Massimo and Ridge.

“I have to give my daughter a hard time every now and then.”

“And I dish it right back, Daddy‑o,” she said with a mischievous grin.

Ridge and Massimo both found their banter amusing.

Sensing Ridge’s interest, Massimo spoke up.

“Ridge, would you do me a favor?”

“Of course, Father. What is it?”

“If you’re not busy, could you show Siana around Marone Industries while her father and I conduct business?”

“Certainly. I have some time,” Ridge said, glancing at Siana.

Siana pursed her lips, folding her arms as she looked him over — tall, dark hair, intense brown eyes, a unique handsomeness. Then she smiled.

“I don’t mind,” she said.

“Good, good,” Massimo said. “Sebastian, shall we?”

“Of course,” Sebastian replied.

As the two men prepared to leave, Sebastian looked back at his daughter.

“Try not to bite,” he teased.

A smirk tugged at Ridge's lips.

Siana rolled her eyes.

“Pfft. I don’t bite unless I’m provoked,” Siana said with a grin.

“You bite even when you’re not provoked,” Sebastian said as he stepped out.

“Very funny, Daddy,” she muttered.

Massimo chuckled as he followed him out.

“Play nice, children.”

Ridge and Siana exchanged a look.

“Ready for the tour?” he asked.

“I hope you don’t mind twenty questions,” she said.

Ridge smiled and offered his arm.

“Not at all.”

Siana raised an eyebrow, then slid her arm through his. She smiled as they stepped out of his office together.

❖ ✦ ❖

Ridge showed Siana around and talked about how Massimo started Marone Industries. Siana asked many questions, and Ridge answered them all. He was impressed with her curiosity. But then he became curious about her.

“What do you do in New Orleans?” he asked.

Siana smiled. “I am my father’s researcher/clerical administrator.”

“Researcher?” he asked curiously as he folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

Siana smiled.

“I have a curious mind. Always have. That curious mind prompted me to learn about things that other people may not be interested in. Oftentimes, I found myself going down a rabbit hole about a certain topic because it connected to other things that came to mind. That curiosity fascinated my father, and he would ask me to research things about a certain item, city, or country. I learned more from the library, the home encyclopedias, and the atlas than I learned in school,” she said.

“Funny thing — when I came to work here, I also ended up learning more than I learned in school or even in my former life as a fashion designer,” Ridge said.

The two of them came upon the Marone Archives and entered. Rows of documents, company records, photographs, and historical materials filled the room. Siana looked around and started reading one of the archive volumes.

“By the way, I know who you are,” she said.

Ridge chuckled.

“I was wondering when we were going to get around to that,” he said.

“I didn’t ask because I figured that you have tired of the questions of why you left Forrester Creations, and what it was like, or what you did when you found out that you were actually the son of Massimo Marone,” she said as she continued to read the archive book she was holding.

Ridge laughed as he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed.

“You’re right. I have tired of those questions. As far as I am concerned, the news of my paternity and my exit from Forrester Creations is old news,” he said.

“A man who has moved on,” Siana said. “Hence why I didn’t ask.”

“Yet you brought it up,” Ridge said as he pushed away from the door frame and walked toward her.

She felt him standing behind her.

“Fascinated by my family’s history?” he asked.

“Which one — Forrester or Marone?” she asked with a bit of snark as she smirked.

Ridge smirked.

“Oh, I like you. Some fire there,” he said.

Siana snickered. “My daddy calls it bite.”

“Is that why he said try not to bite?” Ridge whispered as he leaned in.

“Something like that.”

The teasing had gradually become something else.

Something warmer.

Something neither of them seemed eager to interrupt.

“Are you always this forward, Monsieur Ridge?” Siana said softly, yet sensually.

“I like your voice. The way you say certain words,” Ridge said as he moved closer. “It’s very… intriguing.”

“I’m sure a lot of things intrigue you, Monsieur Ridge. Question is — have you ever taken no for an answer?” Siana said as she turned and looked at him, her arms crossed.

Their eyes met.

“Have I been told no? Many times,” Ridge said. “Do I take the no? Not always.”

Siana smirked. “You sound just like your father, Massimo. I’ve seen him in action, and he also doesn’t always take a no.”

The way she spoke — almost erotic yet also challenging. He liked it.

“Like father, like son,” he said seductively as he leaned in closer.

“Are you sure that you want to go down this route?” she asked.

Ridge wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

“Whatever it is… I’m all in,” he said.

Siana wrapped her arms around his neck, and they kissed passionately. Nothing more — just a passionate kiss.

❖ ✦ ❖

Inside Massimo's office, he and Sebastian reminisced about old times while conducting business.

“How is Josette?” Massimo asked.

Sebastian smiled.

“She's doing well. And she's glad I brought Siana with me.”

“And Bastian Jr.?” Massimo asked.

Sebastian chuckled.

“The same as ever. Too much like his old man.”

Massimo laughed.

“Then heaven help anyone who has to negotiate with him.”

“That's exactly what Josette says.”

The two men shared another laugh.

“Deidre and Ingrid are doing well too,” Sebastian added.

“That's good to hear.”

Massimo leaned back in his chair and smiled.

“You know, Sebastian, I've always envied you.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

“Envied me?”

“You built a life outside of business. A loving wife. Four wonderful children. A home filled with people who love you.”

Massimo's smile faded slightly.

“My focus was always on building an empire. Every year, I chased another deal, another success, another victory.”

His expression grew thoughtful.

“And in doing so, I never stopped long enough to build a family of my own.”

Sebastian regarded his friend sympathetically.

“That’s because, aside from your ambition to be successful, Massimo, your heart was always set on one woman — Stephanie Douglas. The irony is that the woman you lost is the very one who gave you a son, without ever knowing it,” Sebastian said.

“Yes, it is ironic. And yet, the sad irony is that while she did give me a son… I never got her back,” Massimo said with sadness.

Sebastian nodded sympathetically.

“My grandmother used to say that setting your heart on one person is always a gamble. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. But if, in losing, you gain something beautiful or meaningful, then perhaps you didn't really lose at all.”

Massimo smiled, understanding exactly what Sebastian meant. Yes, Stephanie never became his, but he did gain a son — and he was proud of him.

“Wise woman,” Massimo said.

“That she was,” Sebastian replied.

“So, Siana… she has grown into a stunning woman,” Massimo said.

“Yes — and still curious, quirky, and guarded. But at least she’s learned to open up more,” Sebastian said.

“You saw the way Ridge looked at her,” Massimo said.

“Indeed. I must admit, I was surprised,” Sebastian replied.

Massimo smiled.

“Sebastian, I have always considered Siana the unique one — the one everyone overlooked because she wasn’t like everyone else. But her mind… It's extraordinary. Open. Curious. Creative. She sees connections other people miss. It’s something that can be shaped into something wonderful, something useful,” he said.

“I know. It’s why she’s my researcher. Every time you send something to me and I don’t know what it is, I have her look into it. The things she finds out and tells me always amaze me,” Sebastian said.

Just then, a thought came to Massimo. Sebastian recognized the look in his eyes — the look that meant something was spinning in his mind.

“Mass, what crazy scheme are you thinking of carrying out?” Sebastian asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s not a scheme. It’s the bringing together of two unique people,” Massimo said.

Sebastian laughed.

“Massimo, something tells me that ship is already leaving port. We don’t need to steer it.”

Massimo's smile widened as hopeful thoughts entered his mind.

❖ ✦ ❖

Ridge and Siana finally stopped kissing long enough to breathe and to think about what had just happened.

For a moment, neither spoke.

They simply looked at one another.

“You don’t know me,” she said.

“Maybe not. But looking at you… something about you, deep down, feels familiar to me. Almost as if I do know you — and only now am I finally meeting you,” he said.

Siana thought for a moment as studied him.

Then she smiled.

“Strangely enough, I feel the same way.”

Ridge caressed her face with the back of his hand as he continued to look at her.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he said.

It wasn't a question.

It was a hopeful invitation.

Siana was silent as she looked at him, her heart pounding with excitement and caution.

Everything about this felt sudden.

And yet, somehow, it didn't.

“Please, Siana,” he said. The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard.

“Fine,” she said with a smile.

He took her hand, brought it to his lips, and gently kissed it.

“You are so beautiful,” he said.

She smiled. “And you are very charming… and handsome. I imagine that it is extremely difficult to say no to you.”

Ridge chuckled. “Now you understand why I don’t always take the no.”

Siana raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Charmant” she said. “Your charm might work a little too well and end up backfiring on you.”

Ridge raised an eyebrow as he smirked. “Charmant. I like it. The way the French word rolls effortlessly from your lips”

“I have a feeling that you would like anything that I do or say. And if you don’t… you would simply accept it as part of who I am,” she said with a smile.

“I already do,” he said as he grinned.

Siana shivered — not from cold, but from the excitement that Ridge’s smile ignited.

“That smile of yours,” she said, smiling back. “You could steal a woman’s heart, and she wouldn’t want it back because she’d be enthralled.”

Ridge chuckled.

“Does this mean I’ve stolen your heart?” he asked.

“Maybe. We’ll just have to see,” she said.

VI

Dinner at one of the most upscale restaurants in Los Angeles. The atmosphere was warm, intimate, inviting… romantic.

Tables dressed in the finest linens, candles flickering beneath soft, low lighting. Music drifted through the room — gentle and elegant.

Siana was nervous as she looked around. Ridge reached for her hand. She turned her head and looked at him. He smiled at her.

Again, that charming smile. It put her at ease.

“I’m serious about that smile of yours,” she said, smiling back.

“Well, if my smile puts you at ease, then I’ll be smiling more often,” he said as he lifted her hand and kissed it lightly.

“Charmant, your charm is like magic,” she said.

“And you are… mysteriously alluring. A mystery I’m not in a hurry to solve,” he said.

Siana smiled.

“I’ve never been described as ‘mysteriously alluring.’ Complicated, complex, too much, or too emotional — those are what I usually hear.”

“Is that so?” Ridge said. “Sounds to me like the people who said that never took the time to actually see you.”

“And what do you see in the short time you’ve known me?” Siana asked, resting her chin on her free hand.

“I see a woman who knows so much about me — things I never would have thought about. And it makes me curious about you,” he said.

“Well, you know that I’m Sebastian Aramis’ daughter. You know I’m his researcher and assistant. You know my age, that I’m the youngest of four children,” she said. “What else would you like to know?”

Ridge smiled.

“Whatever you want to tell me,” he said as he gently released her hand.

Siana smiled. “I like your cologne. Musk and sandalwood are two of my favorite scents for a man to wear.”

Ridge’s smile grew.

“What else?”

“I like the way you dress. And I like how you think. When we returned to your office earlier today, I watched how you conducted business. Very much like Massimo, but different. You’re not as aggressive as he is. And your ideas… I found myself imagining how they would play out as you spoke.”

Ridge raised an eyebrow.

“You were picturing my ideas?”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s one of my quirks — When people tell stories or talk about memories, ideas, or possibilities, I automatically create images in my mind. I do it when I read books, poems, historical accounts—anything, really”

Ridge’s mind spun with interest. Siana noticed and smirked.

“What are you thinking, Ridge?” she asked.

“Do you do the same thing with sketches and illustrations?” he asked.

Siana smiled. “Let me guess — you’d like to show me your portfolio of designs?”

“Yes, I would,” he said.

Suddenly, Ridge’s expression softened.

“Do you miss designing?” she asked.

“Sometimes… but it wasn’t just about designing clothes. It was an art. I am — or was — an artist,” he said, taking a sip of wine.

Siana lowered her eyes, thoughtful. Ridge watched her, sensing she wasn’t sad — just thinking.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

Siana lifted her gaze and smiled.

“Ridge, what have you learned about your Marone heritage?”

“That they were sailors, merchants, businessmen,” he said.

“And what of the women of the Marone family?” she asked.

Ridge thought for a moment. Then he remembered something Massimo had told him — an aunt who was a dressmaker, a woman with an eye for fashion who made clothes for her children and anyone who sought her work. His eyes lit up.

“Did something spark?” Siana asked.

Ridge smiled.

“La Mystère, I think you’ve just helped me solve a puzzle that’s been plaguing me.”

“La Mystère?” she repeated with a playful smirk.

“Yes. La Mystère… my name for you,” he said.

“I like it. Especially the way you say it,” she said.

“It sounds quite alluring in that soft, seductive baritone voice of yours,” she replied in a low, almost feline tone.

Ridge's eyes darkened slightly.

“You are practically purring.”

His own voice had dropped lower.

“Careful. You might turn me on a little too much.”

The smile on his face made it clear he was teasing.

Siana laughed softly.

“Well then, consider that something else you've learned about me.”

And then, deliberately, she gave a soft purr.

Ridge raised an eyebrow.

“You're pushing it.”

His tone wasn't threatening.

It was a flirtatious warning.

The kind that made her smile even wider.

“I'll behave...”

Her eyes sparkled mischievously.

“...for now.”

❖ ✦ ❖

At Ridge’s home, Siana waited in the living room while he went into his office to retrieve his portfolio. She looked around, nervous but curious.

Suddenly—

“Hello.”

Siana turned and saw a boy of about ten standing there. He looked like a younger version of Ridge.

“Hello there,” she said gently.

Ridge returned to the living room a moment later.

“Hey, Sport. What are you doing up?” Ridge asked.

“I heard you come in, and I wanted to say good night.”

Ridge smiled. “Siana, this is my son, Thomas. Thomas, this is Siana Aramis.”

“Nice to meet you, Thomas,” Siana said with a warm smile.

“Nice to meet you too,” Thomas replied.

Ridge sat beside Siana on the sofa and opened his portfolio. As she looked through the sketches, she smiled.

“Are you a designer?” Thomas asked.

Siana shook her head with a smile. “No, I’m not. I’m a researcher for an exotic antiques dealer.”

“Exotic antiques?” Thomas echoed.

“Unusual items that are old and have significant meaning,” Siana explained. “Some of the things I research have stories attached to them—where they came from, why they were made, what they were used for.”

Thomas’ eyes widened with interest.

“What’s the most unusual thing you’ve researched?” he asked eagerly.

Siana giggled softly.

“Let’s see… I’ve researched so many items. But if I had to choose one—there was a jewelry box that came all the way from Morocco. It was very unique. It wasn’t made out of wood or metal. It was made of glass, embedded with symbols made of real gold. It took me a long time to trace its origin. Turns out, it wasn’t made in Morocco at all… it was made in Egypt.”

“Do you still have it?” Thomas asked.

“No. My father—the antiques dealer—sold it. The buyer paid a lot for it. It was valuable because of its age, the gold inlay, and how unusual it was. It wasn’t shaped like a normal jewelry box—square, round, or rectangular. The best I can describe it is a cross between a rhombus and a hexagon.”

“Wow!” Thomas breathed, eyes wide.

Ridge and Siana laughed.

“Do you have a picture of it?” he asked.

“Yes, but not with me,” Siana said. “I can have a copy sent to your dad, and he can give it to you.”

“That would be awesome!” Thomas said.

“Alright, Sport. Siana and I want some time alone. Off to bed,” Ridge said.

“Yes, Dad.” Thomas hugged him. “Good night. Love you.”

“Love you too. Good night,” Ridge replied as Thomas ran upstairs.

Once they were alone, Ridge smiled at Siana.

“You’ve piqued his interest,” he said.

“Like father, like son,” Siana replied with a smile.

Ridge chuckled as he opened his portfolio again.

“You seem to be good with children.”

“My sister Ingrid has two kids—a boy and a girl. My sister Deidre is the fun aunt who spoils them rotten. I’m the weird aunt who knows fascinating things and keeps unusual objects in her home,” Siana said jokingly.

“Which aunt do they like the most?” Ridge asked.

“The one who spoils them rotten,” she said with a grin.

Ridge laughed as they continued looking over his designs. Siana found herself fascinated by every sketch. To her, each design told a story—one she was piecing together in her mind. Ridge watched her, smiling. He could practically see her thoughts spinning.

“What do you see when you look at my sketches?” he asked.

Siana pointed to one sketch—a strapless, floor‑length dress with a modest V‑neckline. Color samples were scribbled beside it, one of them a deep red.

“This dress tells me that the woman who wears it would be making a statement,” she said. “That she’s confident, mysterious. Playful, but strong. The kind of woman who takes charge and knows she’s in charge. Especially if the dress were in this deep red.”

Ridge smiled softly.

“I never would have thought about it that way.”

“As I said—stories, ideas… anything gets my mind whirling about what it’s saying or how it would look,” she replied.

Their eyes met, holding for a long moment.

“I want to know more of your story,” Ridge said quietly.

“And I would like to know more of yours,” she answered.

Neither of them moved away.

Instead, they leaned closer.

Their lips met in a slow, passionate kiss.

Not rushed.

Not driven by impulse.

Simply two people drawn together by curiosity, attraction, and the growing feeling that they had only begun to discover one another.

❖ ✦ ❖

What started out as a week in Los Angeles was turning into something more — at least for Siana Aramis.

Her father, Sebastian, had already returned to New Orleans. However, he and Massimo had clearly noticed what was developing between her and Ridge. To keep her in Los Angeles a little longer, Massimo proposed the creation of an antiques division within Marone Industries in partnership with Aramis Antiques & Unique Imports. Under the arrangement, Marone Industries would receive antique acquisitions from various sources. Siana would examine each item, conduct research on its history and authenticity, and then forward her findings to New Orleans for final processing and sale.

Sebastian had even arranged a loft for Siana, assuring her that she could always fly home on weekends if she wished.

Massimo, for his part, promised that the assignment would only last one year. During that time, he would interview and train potential replacements so that she could return to New Orleans once her tenure was complete.

Though cautious about the arrangement, Siana eventually agreed.

On her first day, Siana was surprised to learn that Ridge had been put in charge of the division. It didn’t take long for her to realize exactly what her father and Massimo were up to — they had clearly seen how taken she and Ridge were with one another.

Siana could practically imagine the conversation they must have had:

“Let's create an antiques division.”

“Excellent idea.”

“And put Ridge in charge.”

“Even better.”

She shook her head and laughed to herself.

The two of them were impossible.

And yet she wasn't entirely certain that she minded.

She enjoyed the time she spent with Ridge. With each passing day, every conversation became a far more intimate—an unfolding, a mutual discovery of one another. Learning about one another piece by piece. For Siana, she not only admired, but also understood him. The way his mind worked, the way he approached problems, the quiet intensity behind his decisions. His upbringing was nothing like hers, yet she understood him with an ease that surprised even her. She could read the shifts in his expression, the cadence of his thoughts, the unspoken logic behind the way he conducted business.

And Ridge, in turn, seemed to understand Siana just as instinctively. He recognized the way her mind moved—quick, intuitive, always searching for meaning beneath the surface. He noticed how she connected ideas, how she saw stories in objects, how she listened with her whole being. He understood her curiosity, her quiet strength, her perceptiveness that others often overlooked or misunderstood.

It was as though there was a natural synchronicity between them. Neither of them had to explain themselves too much. Somehow, they simply understood.

It was a typical day.

Nothing special about it—except for the uneasy feeling tugging at Siana’s intuition. Another quirk of hers, an intuitive trait she’d always had.

As she stood in Ridge’s office, looking over a catalog of incoming items, the door abruptly swung open. She looked up and saw a blonde woman storm into the room.

“Where’s Ridge!” the woman demanded.

Siana raised an eyebrow, studying her with a strange, quiet curiosity.

“Mr. Forrester is in a meeting. Perhaps I can help you?” Siana offered.

The woman looked her up and down with a dismissive sweep, as if Siana were beneath notice. Siana’s eyes widened slightly before she folded her arms across her chest.

“I’ll wait for him,” the woman said sharply.

“Very well,” Siana replied, returning to the catalog. “But he may be a while. He’s already been in that meeting for two hours.”

The woman continued staring at her.

“And who are you?” she asked, her tone clipped and rude.

Siana glanced up again, unbothered.

“My name is Siana Aramis. And may I ask yours?”

“Brooke Logan.”

Siana nodded slowly, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips.

“That explains the attitude,” she said, her voice smooth and snide, the insult thinly veiled beneath perfect politeness.

Brooke raised eyebrow, Siana’s snide remark wasn’t lost on her.

“I take it you know about me?” Brooke asked.

Siana smiled.

“Yes. I know all about you from Mr. Forrester and Mr. Marone.”

Brooke narrowed her eyes.

“Whatever Mr. Marone told you, I can assure you it was all lies," she said. "And as for Mr. Forrester, I would think he'd know better than to speak ill of me.”

Siana placed a hand on her hip and studied Brooke.

She was everything Ridge and Massimo had described—entitled, self-centered, dramatic, dismissive, and a long list of other things. Including one particular word that Massimo was especially fond of using whenever Brooke's name came up.

The thought made Siana smirk.

Brooke noticed.

“What's so funny?” she demanded.

“I don't think you'd want to know,” Siana replied.

Brooke narrowed her eyes further, but before she could respond, the office door opened.

Ridge walked in.

“Brooke? What are you doing here?” he asked.

She immediately turned toward him.

“I'm here to talk some sense into you," Brooke said. "Come back to Forrester Creations. Come back to me!”

Ridge simply stared at her.

“I've already told you. I'm happy here. Why can't you understand that?”

“Because I don't believe it!” she shot back, desperation creeping into her voice.

“You don't want to believe it,” Ridge replied as he walked toward his desk. Siana had stepped aside, but stood close enough to him.

Brooke noticed—and bristled.

“Are you…” she began.

“Am I what, Brooke?” Ridge asked.

“Are you and her—”

“Just say it,” Ridge snapped.

Brooke looked between them, panic rising.

“No. No, it can’t be. There’s no way.” She glared at Siana. “He’s mine! And he belongs at Forrester Creations—with his family!”

Siana gave her a nonchalant look.

“I’m not keeping him here. He chose to stay. And just so you know, I’m aware of how he came to work at Marone. A bit tacky… but as you told him, it was ‘just business.’”

Her smile was sardonic.

Brooke stiffened.

“You know nothing. Massimo probably hired you to seduce Ridge so he wouldn’t leave.”

“Massimo did nothing of the kind,” Ridge said firmly. “She was here visiting with her father. I pursued her.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did—right after Massimo threw her at you,” Brooke accused.

Siana rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please.”

Brooke rounded on her.

“You’re telling me Massimo didn’t instruct you to make yourself available to Ridge? To seduce him? Take him to bed?”

“That’s enough, Brooke!” Ridge barked.

“No, let her speak,” Siana said calmly. “Let the little woman make her accusations. I find them… quite hypocritical.”

Siana stepped out from behind the desk and faced Brooke directly.

Now she looked Brooke up and down—slow, dismissive, cutting.

Brooke flushed with insult.

“Before you continue,” Siana said, voice stern but controlled, “let me make something clear. I did not pursue Ridge. He pursued me. Yes, he flirted. Yes, I flirted back—because he’s single. Available. You had no claim on him, nor did he ever suggest that you did.”

Siana crossed her arms.

“Ridge Forrester is a grown man. His choices are his own. He owes you no explanation for where he works, who he spends his time with, or whom he chooses to love.”

Brooke stood speechless.

Siana wasn't finished.

“And another thing,” Siana added. “It’s obvious you feel entitled to look down on others—especially anyone who doesn’t kiss your backside. What I see is a woman pretending she has it all together, when in truth… you’re a hot mess.”

Brooke gasped.

“If you respected Ridge—if you loved him—you would accept that he’s happy here. Instead, you’ve wrapped your entire identity around him. That’s what makes you weak. Because if you are nothing without him… then you were nothing to begin with. Perhaps that's harsh. But in my experience, the strongest women know when to stand on their own.”

Brooke stared at her, speechless, then turned to Ridge.

“Will you not come home?” she said quietly.

Ridge's expression softened, but only slightly.

“I am home, Brooke. My family accepts that. Why can’t you?”

His voice was calm. Brooke's eyes filled with tears.

“Because I’m nothing without you,” she sobbed.

Ridge’s expression hardened.

“Then Siana was right. You were nothing to begin with.”

“Ridge, please!” Brooke begged.

“For the last time—this is where I want to be. No manipulation. No pressure. This is my choice. And I’m staying.”

“And us?” she asked weakly.

“That chapter is closed.”

Brooke shook her head in disbelief.

“No… no!”

“Yes,” Ridge said, voice steady. “And I closed it.”

The finality in his eyes broke her. She turned and fled the office.

Silence settled.

Siana looked at Ridge.

“You still love her?”

“Once upon a time, I did,” Ridge said softly. “But as I said… I closed that chapter.”

“Do you believe you’ve truly closed it?” she asked quietly.

Ridge raised an eyebrow and stepped toward her. He gently took her hands and pulled her into his arms.

“Siana… what’s wrong? Tell me.”

She lowered her eyes. And then lifted them up to look at him.

One thing she had discovered since growing close to Ridge Forrester was that she could never lie to him.

“I’m in love with you, Ridge,” she whispered. “I’ve fallen for you. And every moment we spend together feels like it’s just us in our own world. But sometimes I wonder… do you miss Brooke? Do you miss the passion you had with her? Do you think about her when you’re alone?”

Ridge saw the fear in her eyes—the insecurity, the vulnerability she rarely showed.

He had learned more about Siana in weeks than he’d learned about Brooke or Taylor in years.

She was an endless book—ideas, creativity, playfulness, that signature ‘bite’…

But also wounds.

Fears.

Depth.

And he loved all of it.

“La Mystère,” he murmured, “I’ve fallen for you too. Madly. Honestly, when I think back to the first day we met… I fell right then. I saw nothing else but you. And it’s you I want.”

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment before kissing—deeply, passionately.

When they finally parted, Ridge whispered in her ear:

“Walk with me, Siana… and I’ll walk with you.”

Tears filled her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Yes, Ridge,” she whispered. “I’ll walk with you.”

Ridge smiled, holding her close as they stood together in the center of his office—two lives quietly intertwining.

VII

New Orleans, Louisiana — The Big Easy. The Crescent City.

It wasn’t a new city to Ridge; he had visited before.

But this time, he was seeing it through new eyes.

He felt the subtle mystique that had always lived beneath the surface of New Orleans — and it made him feel alive, fully awake for the first time in his life. The colors and sounds of the city spoke to him now, settling his soul while awakening an almost wolf‑like instinct deep within him.

It was late, and Ridge stood on the balcony of his hotel, gazing out at the water as the moonlight shimmered across its surface.

A slow smile touched his lips.

“Come join me,” he said.

Siana stepped onto the balcony and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest. Ridge slipped an arm around her, holding her close.

“I wouldn’t call it a spell,” she said softly. “More like an ethereal energy that floats through the city. It’s stronger at night… and sometimes during the day.” Her Creole accent was unmistakable now that she was home.

Ridge smiled.

“Whatever it is, it’s opened my eyes. I’m not just seeing New Orleans — I’m seeing colors I’ve never seen before. Hearing sounds I’ve never heard before. Feeling things that are unusual… yet familiar. It’s intimidating, but welcoming. Refreshing.”

Siana smiled as they continued looking out at the night sky.

“What did your father say when you told him you were coming to visit — and that I was coming with you?” Ridge asked.

Siana giggled.

“That you should consider yourself already a member of the Aramis family.”

Ridge looked down at her as she looked up at him.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes, I am, Charmant,” she said with a smile.

Ridge laughed and pulled her closer, both arms around her. He looked into her eyes — those beautiful cognac‑diamond eyes — and kissed her softly.

“Maybe we should get married then,” he teased.

Siana laughed.

“Oh, Charmant, Daddy is already calling you his son‑in‑law. Honestly, something tells me he started calling you that the moment you laid eyes on me.”

Ridge’s smile widened.

“I have a feeling that before we leave New Orleans… we’ll be husband and wife.”

Siana smiled, her heart full.

❖ ✦ ❖

When Ridge met the rest of the Aramis family, he found himself overwhelmed by welcoming hugs and genuine warmth. Looking at Siana's mother, Josette, he immediately recognized where Siana had inherited the other half of her unique beauty. Mother and daughter were almost the spitting image of one another. Siana’s siblings — Sebastian Jr. (called “Bastian” by everyone), and her sisters Deirdre and Ingrid — also bore the unmistakable blend of Sebastian and Josette’s features.

The entire family treated Ridge as though he were already one of them.

He, Sebastian, Bastian, and Ingrid’s husband James talked with the ease of men who had known each other for years. Josette, Deirdre, Ingrid, and Bastian’s wife Réjane playfully teased Siana about her and Ridge, but beneath the teasing was genuine warmth. They encouraged her, telling her how happy they were that she had fallen in love with someone who not only accepted her, but understood her completely.

As night settled over New Orleans, Ridge and Siana sat together on the front porch swing. Ridge held her close as they gazed up at the stars.

A smirk tugged at Siana's lips.

“Charmant, you and your naughty thoughts about me,” she said softly.

Ridge chuckled.

“I was wondering if you were reading my thoughts,” he replied with a mischievous grin.

“I’m not actually reading your thoughts,” she replied. “Our emotions are tightly connected… synchronized. You know what I feel, and I know what you feel.”

“Is it really that simple?” he asked.

“Sometimes the most extraordinary things have the simplest explanations,” she said. “Especially when they’re deeply felt.”

Ridge turned his head toward her.

“La Mystère… let’s get married.”

Siana raised an eyebrow.

“No engagement ring?” she asked, smiling mischievously.

Ridge grinned.

“Who the hell needs an engagement ring? I’m already part of the family. And as far as my father is concerned, you’re already my wife.”

Siana laughed.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Massimo is already planning the wedding.”

Ridge laughed with her.

“He probably is,” he said. “But seriously — marry me. Let’s get married.”

Siana smiled, though her eyes softened with thought.

“I’m not saying no. But are you ready for the backlash that will follow?”

Ridge took her hand and kissed it gently.

“I’m ready for anything with you.”

Siana’s smile grew as her heart raced.

“Ladies and gentlemen, get ready… Ridge and Siana Forrester are about to make an entrance.”

“Actually,” Ridge said, “Ridge Forrester Marone.”

Siana’s eyes widened.

“You’re changing your name?”

“Adding Marone to it,” he said. “I haven’t told anyone yet. You’re the first.”

Siana let out a low whistle.

“Charmant, you’re about to stir up a commotion.”

“Then let’s stir it up,” he said proudly.

❖ ✦ ❖

Massimo landed in New Orleans and headed straight for Aramis Manor. Inside, he found Sebastian, Josette, their children, and Ridge waiting for him.

He was slightly annoyed — he had been on his way to New York when Ridge called and demanded he come to New Orleans first. But beneath the annoyance, Massimo secretly chuckled. That boldness… that certainty… that was unmistakably his son.

“Alright, Ridge,” Massimo said, stepping inside. “What is so important that you insisted I come here first?”

Ridge walked up to him with a bright, almost boyish smile.

“Father, I have an announcement to make… two, actually.”

Massimo folded his arms. “Well? What are they?”

Ridge glanced at Siana before looking back at Massimo.

“First,” Ridge said, “Siana and I are getting married. A small ceremony here, and later a larger one on the Marone yacht.”

Massimo’s face broke into a wide smile.

“Wonderful. And the second announcement?”

Ridge took a deep breath.

“I’m adding Marone to my name. I’ll be Ridge Forrester Marone.”

For a moment, Massimo simply stared at him.

His heart seemed to stop.

Then tears filled his eyes.

All his life, he had wanted a son. Not just an heir, but a son. Someone to carry on his name, his legacy, and a piece of himself.

Now, standing before him, Ridge was choosing that legacy willingly.

“Son… that is the best news I have ever heard,” he said, voice breaking.

He pulled Ridge into a tight embrace.

Across the room, Deirdre grinned at Siana.

“So, little sister… how does it feel knowing you’re about to become Siana Kosette Aramis Forrester Marone?”

Siana laughed softly.

“Happy. Excited. And just a little worried.”

“Worried about what?” Réjane asked.

Siana sighed.

“Once Ridge makes these announcements public, poo‑poo is going to hit the fan.”

Josette smirked, unable to hold back a snicker.

“More than likely. But as your Mimi used to say: You may not like what has unfolded, but it’s best to accept it and move on. What has been done is by the will of God.”

Siana nodded.

“Given how Ridge’s life has unfolded… I’d say Mimi’s words of wisdom ring true.”

Ridge slipped an arm around her waist and smiled.

“Then I suppose we'd better brace ourselves for the storm.”

Sebastian laughed.

“Son, judging by the people you're related to, I suspect the storm has already started.”

VIII

The wedding was held in a small chapel. The priests were longtime friends of the Aramis family and could be trusted not to breathe a word about Ridge and Siana’s marriage.

Ridge was dressed simply yet handsomely in a dark gray‑purple dress shirt, black trousers, and black loafers. Siana wore an elbow‑length casual dress in the same shade as Ridge’s shirt, paired with black heels.

In attendance were the Aramis family, a few trusted friends, and Massimo.

The priest stood before Ridge and Siana as they faced one another. He had been asked to keep the ceremony simple.

“Family and friends, we gather today to witness the union of Ridge Forrester and Siana Aramis. I’ve been asked to keep things brief, so I invite the bride and groom to recite their vows,” the priest said.

Ridge cleared his throat and spoke first.

“As I’ve said before, Siana… La Mystère… from the moment I laid eyes on you, I saw no one else. The world simply disappeared. It felt as though the woman I had been searching for since the death of my first wife had finally found her way into my life. I had been waiting for you — and didn’t know it until we met.”

He smiled softly.

“You know me well. My ambitions, my fears. You know when to calm me and when to rile me up — for better or worse.”

Everyone laughed gently, Siana giggling along with them.

“My heart is yours. I give it freely. And I vow before you and everyone here that you are the other half of my heart… and I will never let you go for as long as I live..”

A tear slipped down Siana’s cheek as she smiled.

When it was her turn, she took a steadying breath.

“Ridge… Charmant… so charming, so stubborn, and yet you know me just as well as I know you. You comfort me when I’m sad. You encourage me in everything I do — even when it annoys the snot out of you,” she said with a smirk.

Laughter rippled through the chapel. Ridge laughed too.

“As your heart is mine, my heart is yours. I give it to you freely, and I vow before you and all who witness this moment that you are the other half of my heart and my soul. I found you in the most unlikely place… and I will love you for the rest of my days.”

By now, there wasn't a dry eye in the chapel.

After they exchanged rings, the priest spoke again.

“By the power vested in me, and before the sight of God, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal your union with a kiss.”

Ridge pulled Siana into his arms. They laughed softly, then kissed as the chapel erupted in cheers.

Sebastian leaned toward Massimo.

“You can’t get rid of me now,” he joked.

Massimo laughed.

“My old friend, I think it was always meant for our families to be connected. It just happened in the most unexpected way.”

“Amen to that,” Sebastian said. “Welcome to the family, you arrogant sneak.”

Massimo chuckled.

“Thank you, you sneaky gent.”

Josette shook her head affectionately as she watched them.

“You two and those nicknames.”

Sebastian wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“After all these years, they're not changing.”

“No," Massimo agreed with a smile as he watched Ridge and Siana surrounded by family and friends. “And neither would I want them to.”

For the first time in a very long time, Massimo felt completely at peace.

His son was happy.

And somehow, that made everything else seem exactly as it should be.

❖ ✦ ❖

Ridge and Siana returned to Los Angeles without the press finding out. They quietly moved into a new home, and Thomas and the twins warmly welcomed Siana as their stepmother. During this time, Ridge finalized the legal process of adding Marone to his name.

Once the paperwork was complete… it was time to make the announcement.

A few television stations were invited to Ridge’s office at Marone Industries. When the press arrived, they were surprised to see Siana standing beside Ridge as he sat at his desk. Many were immediately struck by her presence — she wore a fitted deep‑red blazer over a strapless black wiggle dress, paired with stylish heels. Her hair and makeup were flawless.

Ridge, handsome as ever, wore a dark gray suit with a dress shirt matching the color of Siana’s blazer.

“Everyone, thank you for coming,” Ridge said. “Shall we get started?”

The reporters and camera crew set up, and soon they were live on the air.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Ridge began, “the reason I’ve called this press conference is to make two announcements. These announcements will undoubtedly cause a stir. However, I want to make it clear that despite these changes, I still love my family — the Forresters — and I am simply acknowledging others who have become important to me.”

He paused.

“That said… I have officially added Marone to my name. I am now Ridge Forrester Marone. No hyphen.”

Immediately, the room erupted with murmurs and whispered conversations.

Before anyone could ask a question, Ridge continued.

“The second announcement…” He turned to Siana, took her hand, and kissed it. A smile crossed his face.

“This is my wife — Siana Aramis Forrester Marone.”

The room exploded with excitement.

Hands shot into the air.

“Go ahead,” Ridge said. “Ask.”

“When did you and Siana get married?” one reporter asked.

“Six weeks ago, in New Orleans,” Ridge replied. “It was a small, private ceremony with her family and my father, Massimo Marone.”

“Why didn’t you inform the Forresters beforehand?” another reporter asked.

“It was spur‑of‑the‑moment,” Ridge said. “Siana and I knew what would happen once the marriage became public.”

“Siana, have you met the Forresters?” another asked.

“Not all of them,” Siana answered. “I’ve met Stephanie — we hit it off wonderfully. I’ve also met Thomas and the twins. They welcomed me warmly, and I’ve grown to love them as much as I love Ridge.”

“What about Brooke Logan? You and she have a long history,” a reporter pressed.

“Yes, we do,” Ridge said. “But life changes. People change. I've learned that sometimes history is simply part of the journey. You look back to understand where you've been, what you've learned, and what you might do differently. When I look back at who I was then, and compare it to who I am now… I see that I’m not the same man. I’m a different man. I’m not just a Forrester — I’m also a Marone. The best of both worlds.”

The room was completely silent.

Then Ridge turned toward Siana.

His eyes softened immediately as he gently squeezed her hand.

“And this woman… she sees not only who I am, but who I was and who I’m becoming. I asked her to walk with me on this journey, and she said yes. Now she walks with me just as I walk with her. Our journey is together. I see this woman — and she sees me.”

Tears filled Siana’s eyes as she smiled. Ridge stood, gently pulled her into his arms, and kissed her.

The reporters began clapping — unexpected, but welcome — as Ridge and Siana continued to kiss.

❖ ✦ ❖

Sometime after the press had left, Ridge and Siana were finally alone.

“The press conference went well,” Siana said with a smile.

“Did you have any doubt?” Ridge asked, pulling her into his arms.

“I’ll admit I was a tad worried,” she said.

"Worried about what?"

“That the press would look at me like some usurper and fire twenty venomous questions at me.” she replied in her usual biting, sarcastic tone.

Ridge laughed.

“Trust me, eventually you'll run into that one reporter who decides to test you. And honestly, I feel sorry for them, because once you bite back... it's going to hurt.”

Siana laughed.

“You like it when I bite,” she said flirtatiously.

“Yeah, but I’m just glad you don’t bite too hard with me,” he replied, equally flirtatious.

Siana raised an eyebrow and wrapped her arm around his neck.

“Careful, Charmant. I’ll do more than just bite.”

“Ooh, I hope so,” he grinned.

A sudden knock interrupted them.

“Yes?” Ridge called.

“It’s your mother.”

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Stephanie entered with Eric, Kristen, Thorne, and Felicia. Ridge and Siana turned to face them.

“I take it you saw the press conference?” Ridge asked.

“Yes,” Eric said. “And I won’t pretend I wasn’t hurt. But as I kept watching — seeing how much you still love this family, and how much Siana means to you — I reminded myself that despite everything, you are still my son. You kept the Forrester name for a reason. You have two fathers now, a mother, siblings… and a wife who loves you dearly.”

Ridge’s eyes filled with tears. He walked over to Eric.

“You’re right. I do have two fathers — and I love both of you,” Ridge said.

They embraced.

Stephanie turned to Siana with a warm smile.

“I’ll admit, when we first met, I had no idea how well we’d get along. You’ve got some fire.”

Siana laughed.

“Thank you, Mama Stephanie — and so do you.”

Ridge returned to Siana’s side.

“Siana, these are my siblings — Thorne, Kristen, and Felicia.”

Siana smiled.

“I’m honored to meet all of you.”

Kristen stepped forward first.

“Welcome to the family, sis.” she said, embracing her.

“Thank you, Kristen,” Siana said.

Felicia approached next.

“Welcome to the family. And may I add — I think you’re a great match for Ridge.”

Siana giggled.

“Thank you, Felicia.”

Thorne was last.

“Welcome to the family. I look forward to getting to know you.”

“Thank you, Thorne.”

A moment later, Massimo entered the room. The room grew quiet as he and Eric exchanged a long look.

Eric approached him.

“We share a son — and he’s happy. For his sake, I'm willing to bury the hatchet. I won't pretend the past didn't happen. But I can be cordial.”

Massimo nodded.

“Then I gladly accept the truce. As you said, our son is happy.”

The men shook hands.

Siana looked up and saw tears falling from Ridge’s eyes. She gently wiped them away.

“You are a blessed man, Charmant,” she whispered.

“That I am, La Mystère,” Ridge said softly. “That I am.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and looked around the room.

His mother.

His father.

His biological father.

His siblings.

His wife.

For the first time in a very long time, Ridge felt complete.

Not divided between two worlds.

Not forced to choose between them.

He was both Forrester and Marone.

And surrounded by the people he loved most.

❖ ✦ ❖

At Forrester Creations, the staff walked on eggshells as Brooke’s screams and sobs echoed from her office.

It hadn't escaped anyone's notice that she had watched the press conference. In fact, everyone at Forrester Creations had watched it.

Many of them were genuinely happy for Ridge.

For Brooke, however, it had been a crushing blow.

The office door opened, and Rick walked inside.

“Mom, are you out of your mind?” Rick asked.

Brooke spun toward him, eyes blazing with rage and heartbreak.

“Did you not see the press conference?” she shouted.

“I did,” Rick said calmly. “And honestly? I’m happy for Ridge.”

Brooke’s face twisted — confusion, disbelief, and fury all at once.

“How? How can you be happy for him?” she bellowed.

Rick folded his arms.

“I'm going to be honest. I was worried for a while. I thought Ridge might retaliate after we pushed him out. I thought he'd come after Forrester Creations, try to hurt the company, or make us pay for what happened. He didn't. He moved on. He found his place. And he's genuinely happy.”

Brooke narrowed her eyes.

“He’s supposed to be with me. He’s meant to carry on the Forrester name. He was meant to carry on this company,” she cried, tears streaming.

Rick sighed.

“Mom, I'm helping carry on this company. So are Amber, Thorne, Kristen, and Dad. Forrester Creations hasn't lost anything.”

Brooke shook her head violently.

“You don’t understand!” she snapped, pacing the room.

“Oh, Mom, I understand perfectly,” Rick said, his patience finally wearing thin. “I understand that once Deacon was out of your life and Taylor was gone, you expected Ridge to come running back to you. But he didn’t. He chose a different path — and he’s clearly happy about it.”

Rick looked at her, disappointment settling in his expression.

“You've wrapped everything around him. Your happiness. Your Future. Your identity. You've made Ridge your whole world.”

“Yes! Yes, he is!” Brooke shouted.

The words hung in the air.

Rick simply stared at her.

“That's the problem. Because from what I saw today, you're not his whole world.”

Brooke froze.

The words struck her like a slap.

Rick's voice remained calm.

“He has a new one now — with his wife, Siana. A world where Dad, Thorne, Kristen, Felicia, Stephanie, and Massimo are welcome… but you aren’t.”

Brooke’s breath hitched.

“It’s like Ridge said — sometimes history is just part of the journey. He’s moved on. If you love him, you’d be happy for him.”

Brooke shook her head, trembling.

“I can’t be happy for him when he’s not with me,” she whispered.

“Then you’ll never be happy,” Rick said quietly. “Not for him… and not even for yourself. Ridge is gone. Let him go.”

With that, Rick walked out.

Brooke grabbed a vase and hurled it across the room, shattering it against the wall.

“Ridge… how could you?” she sobbed.

Epilogue

Weeks after the press conference, life settled into its familiar rhythm. The frenzy faded, the gossip quieted, and both Forrester Creations and Marone Industries continued moving forward. Yet beneath the calm, quiet changes unfolded — the kind that close one chapter and open another.

Brooke finally accepted that Ridge was no longer part of her life. She still had Forrester Creations — the empire she fought so fiercely to protect and to acquire — but she did not have him. As she walked the halls of the building she once ruled with confidence, she found herself wondering what her life might have been if she hadn’t pushed him out. For the first time, she understood the weight of her choices… and the cost of her sins.

She had achieved what she wanted: wealth, prestige, power.

But in the end, there was no one to share it with.

At least, not Ridge.

Eric and Stephanie also reached an understanding. They acknowledged the truth of how everything had unfolded, but agreed that too much had happened for their marriage to ever fully mend. Quietly, respectfully, they ended it.

Massimo discovered he had another son — Captain Dominic Payne, born from his past relationship with Jacqueline Payne. Ridge welcomed his brother warmly, and soon after, Jacqueline and Massimo married, expanding the Marone family once again.

As for Ridge and Siana…

In their home, Siana sat curled on the sofa, reading a book about ancient Rome. A soft smile touched her lips.

“Yes, Charmant?” she said without looking up.

Ridge leaned over the back of the sofa, smiling.

“I know you’ve explained it to me,” he said, “but I’m still fascinated — amazed, really — at how we always know when the other is near, or how we can sense what the other is feeling.”

Siana lowered the book and looked at him.

“Then just enjoy it, Charmant.”

“I do,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

When they finally pulled apart, Siana smiled knowingly.

“Something you want to show me?”

Ridge laughed and handed her his sketchbook.

“I can’t hide anything from you.”

“And I can’t hide anything from you,” she said as she opened it.

Inside was a sketch of her — wearing a floor‑length, off‑the‑shoulder deep red velvet gown with a high slit. Gold filigree traced the bodice, with subtle fleur‑de‑lis motifs woven throughout. Her hair was styled in soft retro waves.

She looked regal.

Beautiful.

Almost queenly.

Siana turned the sketchbook toward Ridge.

“This is beautiful,” she said.

Ridge smiled proudly. “Thank you. I designed it for you. I want you to model it.”

Siana raised an eyebrow.

“Model it?”

Ridge's grin widened.

“I’ve been in contact with your mother, Ingrid, and Réjane,” he said, grinning. “They love the idea.”

“What idea?” she asked, suddenly anxious.

He pointed to the name written at the top of the page.

Vainqueur.

Siana’s breath caught.

“You’re starting your own fashion house?”

Excitement flashed in his eyes as he sat beside her.

“Not just a fashion house,” Ridge said. “A brand. Everything — home décor, jewelry, shoes, accessories, a men’s line, cosmetics. And I want everyone to be included. Especially the woman who has become part of my life.”

Siana smiled softly.

“You’re going to catch hell for what you’re about to do.”

“Bring it on,” Ridge said with a proud grin. “I lost everything once and discovered who I really was as I conquered my doubts and fears. And along the way, I won you. Let’s keep going.”

He kissed her hand,

Siana stared at him for a moment before dramatically placing a hand over her heart.

“God… that smile,” Siana said, swooning.

Ridge laughed.

“And you, La Mystère… as if I could ever resist your mysterious charm.”

“Touche,” she said with a laugh.

And with that, they kissed —

Life had taken Ridge down a road he never expected to travel.

He had lost much, gained even more, and discovered that sometimes the end of one chapter is simply the beginning of another.

And standing beside Siana, the woman who had become the other half of his heart, he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

The best chapters of his life had yet to be written.