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“Irregularities?” The word tasted bitter. “So you, what? After Margaret’s will, you decided to play private investigator again? Knowing how I felt about it? Without considering how it might affect my custody case?”

“I was trying to help!” Now he did look at her, jaw set. “This guy is trying to take your kid, Kelsey. I couldn’t just sit back and—”

“It’s not your decision to make!” The fear she’d felt hearing Jason’s voice transformed into anger, hot and sharp. “This is my son, my fight. You had no right—”

“No right to what? To care? To want to protect you both?”

“To go behind my back! To potentially make things worse!” She ran her hands through her damp hair. “God, Mac, do you have any idea what you might have done? If he can prove I was investigating him, I’ve already lost Noah.”

“He can’t. The people I used are discrete.”

“That’s not the point!” Her voice rose. “The point is you didn’t tell me. Didn’t ask me. Just decided you knew better than I did how to handle my own business.”

Mac took a step toward her, reaching out. She stepped back.

“I have to get to work.” She grabbed her bag, her keys. The new safety fob clattered against them. “I’ll see you at Truman’s.”

“Kelsey, wait—”

But she was already slamming the door, heart hammering. In her car, she gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles went white. Deep breaths. She had patients to see. Had to be professional, focused.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Mac: I’m sorry. We should talk about this.

She turned her phone face-down on the passenger seat and started the car. Right now, she needed to think. About Jason’s threat. About Mac’s interference. About what it meant that even as angry as she was, part of her was touched that he’d tried to help.

Most of all, she needed to figure out what to do next. Because one thing was crystal clear—Jason wasn’t going to back down. And now he would be playing dirty.

But first, she had patients to care for. The rest would have to wait. The morning fog hung thick over the island as she drove to her first appointment.

After her first two visits, Kelsey pulled up to Truman’s cottage, fatigue weighing on her shoulders. Her earlier anger had cooled to a dull simmer, but seeing Mac’s Range Rover already parked in the driveway made her stomach knot. She sat for a moment, gathering her professional composure. Her patients deserved her focus, regardless of her personal turmoil.

The cottage door was ajar when she arrived, voices drifting from inside. She knocked lightly before entering, medical bag in hand.

“… should’ve told her from the beginning,” Truman was saying, his voice carrying from the living room.

“I know that now,” Mac’s response was quieter, tinged with frustration.

Kelsey stepped into the doorway, clearing her throat. Both men looked up and their conversation halted abruptly. Mac stood by the window, arms crossed, while Truman occupied his usual armchair beside a stack of financial reports scattered on the side table.

“Good morning,” she said with a professional formality. “How are we feeling today?”

Truman waved a weathered hand. “Come in, come in.”

Kelsey managed a small smile and deliberately avoided Mac’s gaze as she set her bag down. “Let’s check your vitals, shall we?”

Mac shifted uncomfortably. “Kelsey, about this morning—”

“Not now,” she said quietly, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around Truman’s arm. “I’m working.”

“Actually,” Truman said, “I think now is exactly the right time. My grandson tells me he’s made a proper mess of things.”

“Grandad—”

“Hush, boy. Let me speak.” Truman patted Kelsey’s hand as she checked his pulse. “My dear, we owe you an explanation, and more importantly, an apology.”

Kelsey kept her focus on her watch, counting beats. “Your pulse is strong today.”

“And my head is clear enough to know when my family has overstepped.” Truman fixed her with a direct gaze. “The situation with Jason Prescott isn’t just about your boy, though God knows that’s reason enough to be concerned.”