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Chapter Text

The Metro Court

The Cassadine with the Ashford-Robinson family and their closest friends gather at the Metro Court for an intimate celebratory dinner. The atmosphere is warm and lively, filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the murmur of conversation—a perfect evening for reflection, connection, and the occasional spark of drama.

“Shh, baby, you gotta be quiet,” Trina whispered, her voice breaking between soft moans. “Someone might hear us.” Pressed against the wall of a linen closet at the Metro Court, she clung to Spencer. Her maroon, ruched, asymmetric one-shoulder maxi dress was hiked up around her waist as she straddled him. They clutched each other tightly, their movements feverish and desperate.

Spencer grunted, his lips brushing her ear. “Do you even know what this dress does to me?”

Trina bit her lip, eyes gleaming with mischief. Without a word, she grabbed the lace panties dangling from her wrist and stuffed them into his mouth, silencing him.

“Oh, right there... yesss,” she breathed, her voice trembling with pleasure. Their bodies moved in wild harmony, the tension between them building to a crescendo. She bit down on his shoulder, muffling her scream as her climax washed over her. Moments later, he followed, his release shaking through him. Slowly, Trina slid down his body, her legs unsteady as she unwrapped herself from his hold.

At the table in the bustling Metro Court dining room, Portia tapped her fingers against the tablecloth, her irritation growing. “Where have those two disappeared to? They invite us to dinner and then vanish into thin air.”

“Honey,” Curtis said, leaning back in his chair, “they probably had to deal with something important. They’ll be back soon.”

Just then, the elevator doors opened with a cheerful ding, and Taggert stepped out. “Pau Pau’s here!” the twins shouted in unison, racing toward him with squeals of delight.

“Come here, you little monsters!” he bellowed, scooping them into his arms as they kicked and giggled. After greeting everyone at the table, he sat down next to Laura, bouncing the twins on his knees.

“Marcus, you’ve got them all riled up,” Portia scolded, though her lips curved into a reluctant smile.

“They’re fine. Just need some Pau Pau time,” he replied with a wink. “By the way, where’s my baby girl?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Portia muttered, her tone sharp.

“I’ll go look for them,” Joss offered, rising from her seat.

“Thanks, Joss,” Portia said with a sigh of relief.

Cameron stood and rushed over to Joss. “I’m sure they’ll be back. Give them a few more minutes.”

“Cam, I just promised Trina’s mom that I would find them.”

Cam gave her a knowing look. “Ok, I tried.”

Down the hall, Trina and Spencer emerged from the closet, their hair tousled and clothes slightly askew. Trina’s cheeks flushed as she adjusted her dress, while Spencer ran a hand through his hair. Their laughter was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Joss stood a few feet away, arms crossed. “You know you’ve got a room full of people waiting for you, right?” Her eyes darted between them before lowering pointedly to Spencer’s open zipper.

Caught, Spencer hastily zipped up, handing Trina her panties before disappearing into the restroom to tidy up.

Back at the table, Spencer returned, looking composed.

“Spencer, it's about time. Where is Trina? You left together and only one of you came back” stated Portia.

“Dr. Robinson,” he said smoothly, “I was on a call earlier. Trina was talking to the waiter last I checked.”

Cam, seated beside him, stifled a laugh. “What’s so funny, Cam?” Spencer asked, narrowing his eyes.

Leaning in, Cam whispered, “You are.”

“Me? What did I do?”

Cam smirked. “Come on, man. I’ve known you my whole life. The only call you were on was a booty call.”

“Shh!” Spencer hissed, glancing around nervously. “Show some decorum.”

“Oh, I need decorum?” Cam chuckled. “Meanwhile, you and Trina—”

“Okay, okay!” Spencer interrupted, lowering his voice. “Keep it down.”

“Relax, bro. I’m happy for you. It just means you’re still crazy about each other after all these years.”

In the restroom, Joss confronted Trina. “I can’t believe you, T. Ditching your own party for a quickie?”

Trina laughed; her cheeks still flushed. “Oh, come on, Joss. You know what it’s like to be in love—or at least, you used to.”

“Don’t try me,” Joss snapped. “I only came looking for you because your mom asked.”

Trina waved her off. “My mom worries too much. I’m a grown woman, married with kids, in case you forgot.” She flashed her wedding ring with a smirk.

“Grown or not, it’s pretty tacky to sneak off in the middle of your party for a quickie,” Joss said, crossing her arms.

Trina’s smile faded. “Why are you being such a pain? I’m married, Joss. I’m enjoying my husband. You’ve done worse.”

“I’ve never hooked up in my friend’s bathroom during a BBQ she was hosting,” Joss retorted.

“Oh, you heard that?” Trina teased with a grin.

“You’re lucky it was me who caught you and not someone else,” Joss said, her tone softening. “Honestly, I’m worried about you.”

“Worried? About what?” Trina’s brow furrowed.

“Are you sure you and Spencer are, okay? I mean, if sex is the only thing holding your marriage together—”

Trina slammed her hand on the sink, cutting her off. “Don’t you dare. You have no idea what it takes to balance a marriage, twins, and a career while keeping the spark alive. You know better than anyone that I love that man, and he loves me too. So, you can save your Dr. Phil impersonation for someone else because my marriage is fine” and she begins to walk out.

Joss reached for her arm, but Trina pulled away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Joss said quickly. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want your marriage to go the distance. Maybe try focusing on something deeper. Have you ever thought about taking a break from... you know, sex?” There’s a best seller book called ‘The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work’, it has exercises like abstinence to make your relationship stronger.

Trina scoffed. “Is that your idea of an apology? Don’t lecture me about marriage when you’ve never been in my shoes. When have you ever taken sex out of your relationships? Isn’t that how they usually start.”

“That may be true, don’t be like me, prove me wrong Trina. If your marriage is so indestructible then there shouldn’t be a problem with you and Spencer being able to do the exercises in the book, including the abstinence challenge.”

“I don't have to prove a damn thing to you about my marriage. When you’ve been married for eight years with six-year-old twins then come talk to me. Besides, Spencer and I are stronger together than you could ever imagine.” She paused at the door and turned back. “We could ace any challenge thrown at us—even your abstinence nonsense. But we don’t need to prove anything to you.”

With that, she strode out, leaving Joss standing alone, her words hanging in the air.

Chapter Text

Trina slipped into the dining room just as the waitstaff began serving the first course. She greeted her father with a warm hug and quickly took her seat.

Spencer leaned in, his voice low and filled with concern. “Are you okay, baby? You seem tense.”

“I’m fine, honey,” she replied with a tight smile, but her eyes betrayed her unease.

Spencer frowned, his gaze sharpening. “You’re not fine. What did Joss say to you? Never mind—I’ll ask her myself.” The screech of his chair as he abruptly stood silenced nearby conversations. Heads turned, curiosity sparking across the room.

“Babe, are you giving a toast?” Trina asked quickly, her voice bright and loud enough to halt his movements.

Caught off guard, Spencer hesitated, glancing around as if— just remembering the room full of people. Cam, seated nearby, gave him a light nudge and a knowing smirk. “Go on, man. You’ve got the room’s attention,” Cam teased with a grin.

Spencer cleared his throat, lifted his glass, and began a toast. His words were eloquent, a heartfelt expression of pride in Trina’s new art show and gratitude for the family and friends who had gathered to celebrate. The room erupted in cheers and clinking glasses, the moment briefly defusing the tension. Yet, as the night went on, Spencer’s focus remained locked on Joss, his simmering irritation impossible to miss.

As the evening drew to a close, Spencer made his move, intercepting Joss by the hallway. His voice was calm but edged with steel. “What did you say to my wife? She was fine until you two talked.”

Joss folded her arms, her expression cool and unbothered. “All we did was talk, Spencer. I didn’t say anything to upset her.”

“Whatever you said, it clearly hurt her,” he said, his tone dropping. “So, I’m asking one last time—what did you say to my wife?”

Joss met his glare without flinching. “She was my best friend long before she was your wife. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Spencer stepped closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous calm. “Stay away from her. That’s not a request—it’s a warning.”

Before the situation could escalate, Cam stepped between them, hands raised in a calming gesture. “Alright, alright. Let’s all take a breath. Whatever this is, it’s not worth ruining the night.”

Joss spun toward Cam, her frustration bubbling over. “Can you believe this? He’s trying to keep me away from my best friend!”

Across the room, Taggert watched the interaction, his brow furrowing. “Baby girl, what’s going on with those three?”

Trina sighed, grateful for the distraction. “I’m not sure, but thanks for taking the twins tonight.” She crouched down to hug her children. “Love you, babies. Be good for Pau Pau, okay?”

“Love you too, Mommy!” they chimed in unison before running toward Spencer, shouting, “Daddy!”

“You two need to cut this out, my godchildren are heading this way.”

Spencer stepped closer, his frame tense, his voice low and deliberate. “This isn’t over.” His eyes locked onto Joss, dark with restrained frustration, as if daring her to push further.

Spencer crouched, catching them with open arms, his expression softening instantly. As the twins clung to him, Taggert turned back to Trina with a chuckle.

“Your husband looks ready to start a war,” Taggert remarked.

Trina smiled faintly. “He’s just being protective.”

Taggert shook his head, amused. “Protective? He looks like he’s one step away from flipping a table. Listen, sweetheart, whatever’s going on, don’t let it get to you. That boy loves you more than his own pride—and for a Cassadine, that’s saying something.”

Trina said her goodbyes as she approached, her expression softening as she saw her children. Spencer stood and adjusted his stance, scooping the kids up effortlessly. As they clung to him, their giggles melting his hardened expression, he headed towards Taggert.

“You two better be good for your Pau Pau,” Spencer teased, his tone light. “He’s getting old.”

“Pau Pau not old!” Chris protested with all the seriousness of a six-year-old, earning a chuckle from Taggert, who leaned in for a high five.

Spencer smirked. “I was just joking. Your Pau Pau as strong as an ox.”

Taggert laughed, clapping Spencer on the back. “You got that right. Cassadine, is everything okay? It looked pretty intense over there.”

Spencer exhaled, his gaze darting toward Joss before settling on Taggert. “It's Joss being a …,” glancing at the kids before answering. He said tightly, pausing to measure his words. “She has a knack for drama.”

“Let me guess,” Taggert said, arching a brow. “This is about my daughter?”

Spencer gave a reluctant nod, his expression taut with unspoken frustration.

Taggert chuckled knowingly. “You’ve got to let it go, Cassadine. You and Joss have been at odds over Trina forever. But here’s the thing—Trina’s your wife. That’s all that matters. End of story. No need to let anyone else’s opinion get in the way.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened. “It feels like Joss doesn’t want Trina to be happy unless it’s on her terms. Like she’d rather see her miserable—like her.”

Taggert let out a hearty laugh and rested a steadying hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “You’ve got to calm down, man. Don’t let her get in your head. You and Trina are solid, and that’s what counts.”

The kids hugged everyone and said their goodbyes, their voices were bright with excitement. “Bye, Daddy! Love you! they chorused.”

Spencer crouched down, pulling them into his arms. “Love you more, munchkins,” he said warmly, pressing kisses to their cheeks. He stood and watched as they walked off with Taggert, their laughter echoing in the elevator.

Trina’s expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “What did I miss?”

Joss folded her arms, her tone sharp and unyielding. “Nothing much. Just your husband playing tyrant again trying to decide who you can and can’t be friends with. Like that’s going to happen.”

Trina’s eyes narrowed, her tone cool and measured. “First of all, there’s no need for name-calling. Passionate? Yes. But a tyrant? No. Second, Spencer doesn’t control my life—or my friendships. Let’s be clear about that.”

Joss smirks, her voice tinged with mockery. “Did you hear that, Spencer? Your wife agrees with me. You’re just a royal ass.”

“Joss,” Cam interjected firmly, stepping between her and Trina. “You’re out of line. Maybe instead of calling names, you should think about why Spencer feels the need to protect his wife from you.”

Trina sighed, her patience fraying. Spencer stepped forward; his tone calm but laced with finality. “Trina, I’m getting the car. I’ll meet you outside.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode toward the elevator, his movements sharp with tension.

“Wait, I’ll come with you,” Cam said quickly, throwing Joss a pointed look before following Spencer.

Joss opened her mouth to speak, but Trina held up a hand, silencing her.

“I don’t care,” Trina said flatly, her tone final. “I’ve had enough.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned, pressed the elevator button, and stepped inside, leaving Joss standing alone, her expression a mix of frustration and dejection.

Later that night, back at the penthouse, the tension between Trina and Spencer lingered like an unwelcome guest.

Spencer climbed into bed without a word, switched off his bedside lamp, and turned his back to her.

Trina hesitated, then asked softly, “Don’t I at least get a goodnight or a kiss before bed?”

“Trina, I’m tired. Goodnight,” he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion and something else she couldn’t quite place.

“Spencer,” she said again, more insistent this time, “we need to talk.”

He didn’t respond, his steady breathing signaling that he had no intention of continuing the conversation.

With a heavy sigh, Trina reached for her iPad, downloading the book Joss had mentioned earlier. As Spencer slept beside her, Trina stayed up, reading, and reflecting. Her thoughts, a tangle of love, doubt, and determination.

Chapter Text

Spencer woke up to find Trina asleep, her tablet resting on her chest. He lingered for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of her breath, then quietly got up and left for his morning run.

Afterward, instead of going home, he went straight to the office. He showered, changed, and buried himself in work—anything to keep his mind off things, even though it was the weekend.

His phone buzzed with texts and missed calls from Trina. He didn’t answer. Unwilling to engage in the mental gymnastics the conversation would require. With a frustrated sigh, he slammed his hand against his desk. “Damn it. That girl is always causing problems,” he muttered.

He picked up his phone and sent a short, impersonal text: "I’ll be late. Don’t wait up."

A moment later, his screen flashed with her response. "Fine."

That night, when Spencer finally walked through the door, he found Trina asleep on the couch, the tablet still balanced on her chest. He hesitated, then carefully pulled a blanket over her before heading upstairs to bed.

Sunday Morning

The house was thick with silence. They moved around each other like strangers, careful not to touch, not to speak. Spencer sat on the couch, his iPad in his lap, the TV murmuring in the background.

Trina finally broke. She walked over and sank down beside him.

The moment she did, he got up.

Frustrated, she rushed forward, stepping in front of him to block his path. “Spencer, enough. We can’t keep pretending everything is fine when it’s not. You’ve barely looked at me all weekend. The kids will be home tonight. I don’t want them walking into this tension. I don’t even know what I did to make you this angry.”

His jaw clenched. “Trina, I don’t want to do this right now.”

She shook her head. “No. We’re doing this. Right now.”

He exhaled sharply. “I’ll be civil when the kids get back. They won’t know a thing.”

“I don’t want civil, Spencer. I want my husband back. Talk to me.”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Why don’t you talk to Joss? Since she seems to have more pull in this marriage than I do.”

Trina’s eyes widened. “Spencer, that’s not true.” She reached for his hand, squeezing it, pleading with him to believe her.

He yanked his hand back. “Really? Because that’s not how it felt. Do you even know what it did to me? Watching you stand there, backing her instead of me?”

“Spencer, it wasn’t like that—”

He let out a bitter laugh. “It was exactly like that.” His voice softened, but the hurt was still there. “I don’t care if I’m being irrational. It’s supposed to be us against the world. But the fact that Joss has that much influence in our marriage? That’s a problem, Trina.”

Guilt twisted in her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t trying to take sides. I was talking to Joss earlier that night, and she mentioned a book that might help us—”

Spencer threw his hands up, his frustration boiling over. “Unbelievable. Everything always leads back to Joss. Now she wants to fix us, too?” He shook his head in disbelief. “What exactly is wrong, that needs fixing? Why, does she have the final say on our marriage now?”

Trina swallowed hard. “Spencer, she doesn’t. We dictate our marriage.”

“Yeah?” He scoffed. “Because that’s exactly how it feels.”

“Joss only wants the best for us.” Trina said carefully, watching Spencer’s reaction. “There’s a book called The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work by John M. Gottman, PhD. It’s a way for us to strengthen our relationship.”

Spencer picked up his iPad and quickly pulled up the book overview. As he skimmed through the description, his brows lifted, and he let out a dry chuckle.

“So, let me get this straight,” he said, still scrolling. “According to this, we have issues with sex, money, family—the whole damn starter pack?” He set the iPad down and folded his arms. “Is that what you’re saying?”

Trina exhaled slowly, trying to keep her patience. “Spencer, will you just give it a chance?”

He tilted his head, watching her. “Can I ask you a question, wife?”

She crossed her arms defensively. “Go ahead.”

His voice was calm but edged with something sharp. “Why do you keep taking marital advice from someone who’s single?”

Trina blinked, then her expression twisted with frustration. “Spencer! There’s no need to be rude.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “Baby, I’m dead serious. “Joss is single and, let’s be honest, not exactly the poster child for stable relationships. So why are you letting her dictate what’s best for us?”

Trina’s jaw tightened. “Spencer, could you not insult my best friend?”

“Oh, but it’s fine for your best friend to insult me?”

Her shoulders sagged. “No, of course not.” She ran a hand down her face, her voice softening. “I just wish you two could get along and stay that way.”

Spencer let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “Yeah? Well, after what happened the other night, forgive me if I don’t believe Joss gives a damn about respecting our marriage.” He met her gaze. “But fine. Let’s say I go along with whatever this book is preaching. What exactly do you expect to get out of it?”

Trina’s expression softened. “It has exercises meant to bring us closer as a couple.”

His brows shot up. “That sounds… fascinating.” He leaned on the back of the couch; arms still crossed. “Alright, I’ll bite. What are these magical exercises that’s supposed to fix us?”

She hesitated, suddenly looking unsure.

His eyes narrowed. “Trina. Spit it out.”

She cleared her throat. “One of the main exercises in the book suggests that… abstinence will help bring us closer.”

Silence.

Spencer blinked at her like she had just spoken an entirely different language. Then, he let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Closer to what, exactly? Because last I checked, we can’t get any closer than having sex.”

Trina took a step toward him, her voice softer now. “Don’t you even want to try?”

His lips parted like he might actually consider it—but then he shook his head firmly. “Absolutely not.”

Chapter Text

“Come on, Spencer, can’t you do this for us?” Trina stepped closer, her voice softer now, coaxing.

Spencer exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead like she had just asked him to cut off a limb. “For how long?”

“Only six months.”

His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash. “SIX MONTHS?!” His voice rang through the room, eyes practically bulging out of his head.

Trina winced. “Spencer, it’s not that bad.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “Not that bad? How about I call my Aunt Alexis right now and have her draft up divorce papers, because there is no way I’m going without sex for six months.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Spencer, you cannot be serious! That is not a divorceable offense.”

“You wanna bet, princess?” He arched a brow, his tone half daring, half deadly serious.

Trina groaned, stepping even closer. “Spencer, babe, be reasonable.”

“I am being both honest and reasonable,” he shot back. “I’m telling you right now—you might not be having sex for six months, but I will.”

Her mouth fell open. “You—”

Before she could finish, he stepped around her, heading for the stairs.

Panic flashed across her face, and she darted after him, grabbing onto his wrist. He stopped but didn’t turn right away. When he finally did, his gaze was unreadable, his expression cold.

Desperate, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face against his chest. His heart pounded beneath her ear, but he remained stiff, unyielding.

His voice, when he spoke, was quiet but edged with something raw. “What is this really about, Trina?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, holding onto him tighter.

He didn’t soften. Didn’t return the embrace. Instead, he pulled back, his gaze burning into hers. “Don’t you see how Joss’s ideas are poisoning our marriage? She’s stirring up problems where there weren’t any. Maybe that’s her plan—keep you as her going out partner until she finds a man, and then what? You become the third wheel again?”

Trina stiffened. Her heart twisted painfully. She lifted her head to look up at him. “Spencer, she wouldn’t do that.”

He shook his head, stepping away from her embrace, putting distance between them. He leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed, eyes locked onto hers.

“You still haven’t told me why this matters so much to you,” he pointed out. “You ever heard the saying, ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t try to fix it’?” His gaze narrowed. “There’s gotta be more to this than Joss’s dumb idea.”

Trina chewed on her bottom lip, searching for the right words.

“Just think of it like… maintenance for a car,” she finally said. “You don’t wait until your car breaks down before taking it to a mechanic. It needs upkeep to go the distance.”

Spencer lifted a brow. “And when’s the last time you saw a mechanic?”

She hesitated. “Never… but that’s not the point. If I had to—”

“Why, Trina?” His voice dropped low and serious now.

She swallowed hard. “I guess… part of it is because of Joss.”

**********

“See? I knew it. This whole hairbrained scheme reeks of her.” Spencer’s voice was laced with frustration, his eyes dark with suspicion.

“Baby, let me explain,” Trina pleaded, stepping closer. “I just—I want to do everything possible to make sure our marriage lasts. I don’t ever want to take us for granted.”

Spencer sighed, his expression softening as he reached out and cupped her face. His thumb stroked her cheek, a touch both tender and possessive. “Baby, we have nothing to worry about.”

Trina searched his eyes, her own filled with uncertainty. “How can you be so sure? Our parents...” she trails off.

His lips curled into a small smirk. “We are not our parents, or anyone else. Plus, we’ve been through hell and back. And every time, we’ve come out stronger.”

A slow smile formed on her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, melting into his embrace. He held her tightly, his warmth anchoring her.

“How about… three months?” she murmured.

Spencer pulled back instantly, his hands gripping her shoulders as he stared at her in disbelief. “Trina,” he warned. “So, what—now you’re asking for a trial separation?”

“What? Spencer—no.”

“Well, if six months without sex is grounds for divorce, then three months is basically a trial separation.”

She groaned. “We are not separating, and we are doing this.”

Spencer let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Baby, come on. You have to see reason. Do you honestly believe you can go without sex for three months?”

“Of course I can,” she said defiantly.

His brow arched, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Trina… be for real.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “First of all—look at me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please—”

“No, no, no.” He tilted his head, smirking. “You know you can’t keep your hands off me.”

Trina scoffed, but the heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her.

“Second,” he continued, his voice turning teasingly deep, “you went from a little sex kitten at the beginning of our relationship to a full-blown lioness.” His fingers trailed down her spine, making her shiver. “And trust me, I’m not complaining. But let’s be honest—there are times you want it even more than I do.”

He pulled her in by the waist, his grip firm, his breath warm against her skin.

“Once again—not complaining,” he murmured, lips grazing the shell of her ear. “In fact… it’s kinda hot.”

Before she could react, his hands slid lower, gripping her ass with a squeeze that made her breath hitch.

“Spencer,” she whispered, but her voice lacked conviction.

Her fingers found his hair, twisting into the silky strands as a soft moan escaped her lips.

He smirked against her skin, trailing his nose along her jaw, then to her cheek, down the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply. She smelled like a tropical dream a mix of passion fruit and coconut.

Her fingers raked down his chest before one hand slid up, wrapping gently around his throat, her nails scraping just enough to make him groan.

Spencer’s lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “Told you.”

Trina sucked in a sharp breath, then let out an exasperated groan and playfully smacked his chest. “Ugh!”

He chuckled darkly. “There’s no way you’re lasting three months. You barely lasted three minutes.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You wanna bet?”

A mischievous smile spread across her lips as she lifted her pinky.

Chapter Text

“Absolutely not,” Spencer said, his voice edged with finality. “Our relationship is perfect the way it is. We love sex, and everything else is irrelevant.”

Trina’s eyes darkened with frustration. “Are you saying our love is irrelevant?”

Spencer exhaled sharply, already knowing where this was headed.

“You do understand the difference between love and sex, right?” she pressed, stepping closer, arms folded.

He groaned, dragging a hand through his thick hair. “Not this again. I refuse to fall for this.” His tone was laced with exasperation as he turned away, but Trina wasn’t letting this go.

“What exactly aren’t you falling for?” she challenged, planting her hands on her hips.

Spencer stopped, turning slowly to face her. His gaze was unwavering. “We both know I understand the difference between love and sex,” he said, voice steady, unreadable. “But if you’re really dead set on going through with this insanity… then fine.”

Her brows shot up, eyes flickering with surprise. “Are you serious?”

A smirk ghosted across his lips. “Yes. We’ll do all the exercises including the three months of no sex to ‘strengthen’ our already perfect marriage.”

Trina let out a squeal of excitement before launching herself into his arms, the force of it nearly sending them both tumbling onto the couch.

“Baby, I love you!” she giggled, bouncing against him.

Spencer grunted, arms tightening instinctively around her waist. But then he felt it the press of her soft body against his, the way she moved completely unaware of what she was doing to him.

********************

And just like that, everything shifted.

The playfulness dissolved, replaced by a slow-burning heat.

His body responded before his mind could stop it.

Trina stilled.

The air around them became unbearably thick, the temperature spiking between them. Her breath hitched, eyes widening as realization set in. Her thighs clenched involuntarily, a slow pulse of warmth settling between them.

Spencer noticed.

His grip on her waist firmed, his fingers pressing into her curves. His eyes dropped to her parted lips, breathless, before dragging lower.

Trina’s pulse pounded. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, but her mouth had suddenly gone dry.

“Umm… maybe we should—”

“Should what?” His voice was deep, teasing, but there was an unmistakable hunger there.

Before she could answer, his head dipped, and his tongue slow, deliberate, dragged along the delicate curve of her neck.

Trina sucked in a sharp breath, her body shuddering against his.

Her fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt as if she needed to hold on.

Spencer smirked against her skin, his breath sending shivers down her spine. “Yeah…” His voice was dark, amused, dangerous. “That’s what I thought.”

Her body betrayed her, melting into him despite every rational thought screaming otherwise.

Spencer’s lips hovered just over her pulse, his breath featherlight. “Still think you can last three months, princess?”

Trina’s nails dug into his shoulders. “Shut up, Spencer.”

He chuckled, low and knowing.

This was going to be fun.

**********************

Trina’s fingers tangled in Spencer’s thick hair, guiding his head down to her chest, desperate for his touch. His lips curved into a wicked smirk against her skin before he took her hardened nipple between his teeth, biting just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through her.

"Aaah," she gasped, arching against him, heat pooling low in her belly.

His hands slid up her waist, palms gliding over her soft curves before slipping beneath her shirt. In one fluid motion, he peeled the fabric away, leaving her standing before him in nothing but a lace demi bra and dangerously short cutoff shorts.

Spencer exhaled sharply, his gaze darkening as he took in the sight of her flushed skin, swollen lips, eyes clouded with desire. Slowly, he traced his fingers along the swells of her breasts, teasing, before replacing them with featherlight kisses. Her body warmed under his touch, anticipation thrumming between them.

Then, without warning, he reached behind her, unhooked her bra, and let it fall away.

His sharp inhale sent a thrill through her. "Damn, baby," he murmured, voice thick with appreciation.

He cupped her breasts, kneading them with a hunger that made her whimper before his mouth descended. He wrapped his lips around one hardened peak, sucking greedily while his fingers toyed with the other. The sensation sent shockwaves through her, pleasure crackling along every nerve ending.

"We should stop this," she murmured, but the breathless way she said it made it sound more like a plea than a protest.

Spencer lifted his mouth with a wet pop, his lips glistening. "Why?" he challenged, then flicked his tongue over her nipple again, deliberately slow, watching as her body betrayed her.

"Dammit," she whimpered, her resolve crumbling.

Needing more, she reached for the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head. He let her, raising his arms before standing at his full height, bare-chested, broad, and unapologetically gorgeous.

She bit her lip, eyes roaming over him like he was something she wanted to devour.

Rising onto her tiptoes in her platform Crocs, she pressed her lips to his in a slow, teasing kiss. But Spencer wasn’t one for patience. Growling low, he gripped her face, tilting her head back as he deepened the kiss, devouring her mouth like he intended to consume her whole.

His hardness pressed against her, thick and insistent, making her shudder. Then, in one swift motion, he grabbed her ass and lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

Carrying her effortlessly, he strode to the couch and laid her down like something precious, like something he wanted to worship.

Her shoes were the first to go, then his fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down her thighs inch by inch, his gaze drinking her in.

The moment she was bare before him, his pupils dilated, nostrils flaring as he took in the sight of her smooth, cocoa skin, radiant and glistening in the sunlight. That intoxicating tropical scent of passionfruit and coconut wrapped around him, transporting him back to their trip to Turks and Caicos. The heat of the sun, the rhythm of the ocean, and the way they’d lost themselves in each other on the sand, bodies tangled beneath the stars.

He needed her. Now. “Baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

Spreading her thighs wide, he settled between them. His eyes darkened further as he inhaled deeply, intoxicated by the sweet, musky scent of her arousal.

“You smell so good,” he groaned before lowering his head and devoured her.

His tongue traced slow, teasing circles around her clit before pressing firm, rolling it in a way that made her body jerk in response.

"Spencer…" she panted, hands fisting his hair, thighs tightening around his head.

A deep, satisfied groan rumbled from his throat, the vibration sending sparks shooting through her. He licked her like a man starved, his tongue dipping deep before retreating, only to drag slow, torturous strokes against her most sensitive spot.

Her hips lifted off the couch, chasing his mouth, desperate for more.

"That's it, baby," he murmured between strokes, his voice thick, dripping with satisfaction.

Her moans grew louder, her body coiling tight as she neared the edge. Her thighs trembled, her breaths came in sharp, erratic gasps, and then—

A final, devastating swipe of his tongue sent her crashing over.

She cried out, body bowing off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure consumed her. He didn’t stop, not yet, his tongue flicking softly, drawing out every last tremor, making her body jerk with overstimulation.

When she finally stilled, boneless and spent, he pressed one last lingering kiss against her sensitive skin before looking up, licking his lips with a sinful smirk.

"We still stopping?" he teased, voice low and rough.

Trina, still trembling, could barely find her voice.

"Shut up," she muttered, yanking him up by his hair and crashing her lips to his, tasting herself on his tongue.

Spencer chuckled darkly against her mouth.

"Thought so."

*******************

A deep, guttural moan rumbled from Spencer’s chest as he sat up, pulling Trina with him. She straddled his lap, hovering just above him, her warm breath fanning over his lips. The sunlight reflected in his dark, hooded eyes, but beneath the hunger burning there, she saw something deeper love.

Her heart clenched. Slowly, she reached up, sweeping away a stray lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead. He leaned into her touch, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to speak, but she didn’t give him the chance. Instead, she cupped his face, tilting his head back before claiming his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

As their lips melded together, she eased herself down onto him, taking him in inch by inch. His sharp inhale fanned across her skin, and his grip tightened around her waist.

“Fuck, Trina…” he breathed against her lips, his voice strained.

A slow, delicious rhythm began, their bodies moving as one. She rocked against him, savoring the way he stretched and filled her, his hands roaming up her back, pressing her closer, deeper, as if he never wanted to let go.

Their kiss grew more desperate, their tongues tangling, their hands gripping, their bodies clinging as if this were the last time.

Trina picked up the pace, rolling her hips, grinding down, chasing the pleasure coiling tight within her. Spencer groaned and slid a hand between them, his thumb finding her swollen clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles. A sharp cry escaped her lips, her body responding instantly, her movements becoming erratic as the pleasure overwhelmed her.

“Spencer… I—”

He knew. His free hand slid up her back, cradling her, grounding her as she shattered around him. A second orgasm ripped through her, sending tremors down her spine as she collapsed against his chest, breathless, boneless, completely undone.

But Spencer wasn’t done.

Without breaking their connection, he lifted her with ease, laying her gently onto her back. He hovered over her, his lips pressing two soft, reverent kisses between her thighs before hooking them around his shoulders.

Then, slowly, he sank into her again.

Trina whimpered, her body still sensitive, but she welcomed every deep, measured stroke. Spencer’s jaw clenched, his muscles straining as he fought for control, but the need, the rawness between them was undeniable.

His pace quickened, the slick sound of their bodies meeting filling the air. She dug her nails into his forearms, her moans growing louder, her body arching into him as he found that spot, that perfect spot and hit it over and over again.

“Spencer, I—oh my God,” she crooned, her voice breaking as another wave of pleasure slammed into her.

Her release sent shockwaves through him, triggering his own. With a low, primal grunt, he buried himself deep, his body tensing as he erupted inside her.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Their heavy breathing was the only sound in the room, their bodies still trembling, still connected, still humming with aftershocks.

Finally, Spencer withdrew, and Trina instantly felt the loss of him—the emptiness where he had just been.

Sensing it too, he pressed a lingering kiss to her belly button before resting his head against her stomach, his breath warm against her skin.

She ran her fingers through his dampened hair, lazily trailing down to his earlobe, caressing it softly.

After a long silence, she let out a soft, breathless laugh. “Well… that was intense.”

Spencer smirked against her skin. “I guess it was. Since it’s our last time.”

Trina rolled her eyes. “Baby, I promise, the time will fly by.”

He exhaled sharply, lifting his head to look at her. “So… we’re really doing this?”

She cupped his face again, brushing her thumb over his cheek. “Baby, at the end of this, you’ll see how much stronger we’ll be. I love you.”

Spencer closed his eyes briefly, then kissed the inside of her wrist. “I love you more.”

A beat passed before he groaned and stretched, extending his arm toward her as he stood.

“Come on,” he said, smirking down at her. “Let’s hit the showers before I change my mind.”

She hesitated for a moment, her voice soft and a little breathless. “Well…” she murmured, looking up at him with a playful glint in her eyes. “We can technically start tomorrow... since, you know, it’s the beginning of the week and all.” Her words trailed off as she bit her lip, clearly trying to sound casual, but the way her gaze lingered on him betrayed the desire simmering beneath her teasing tone. She knew exactly what she was doing, and he couldn’t help the subtle challenge she was throwing his way.

A slow, devilish smile spread across Spencer’s face, his hidden dimples making a rare and dangerous appearance. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief as he leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.
“Your wish is my command, princess.” His voice was low, teasing, dripping with promise. “Let’s get dirty in the shower.”

Before Trina could react, he grabbed her by the waist and, with effortless strength, tossed her over his shoulder.

“Spencer!” she squealed, laughing as she playfully smacked his back.

He chuckled, his grip on her firm as he carried her up the stairs, his hands wandering over the curve of her hips. “You might want to save your energy, baby,” he teased. “You’re gonna need it.”

Trina shivered at the heat in his words, anticipation zipping through her veins.

Today was far from over.

Chapter Text

The first week of the challenge went off without a hitch. Spencer and Trina followed the exercises to the letter, committed to rebuilding their connection. Despite the demands of their routine, they even managed to squeeze in their cherished date night. Temptation flickered in Spencer's mind, but he reined himself in, holding his wife close through their sexless nights. Yet, by the second week, an unspoken shift crept into their dynamic.

Cassadine Industries

Spencer's phone buzzed on his desk, and his face softened when Trina's name and bikini pic lit up the screen. He answered with a wide smile.

"Hi, my love. How's your day going?"

Trina's soft giggle poured warmth into his ears. "Well, it's gotten exponentially better hearing your sexy voice."

He chuckled, already feeling lighter. "Please, do go on..."

"Cut it out," she laughed again, her tone playful. "Honey, I need you to pick up the kids today."

"Of course! I'll move a few things around. Is everything okay?"

"You're the best husband in the world," she cheered, then hesitated. "Actually, Joss is sick, and she doesn’t have anyone else to take care of her, so..."

Spencer's smile faded. "Trina, she has a mother. How did she suddenly become your responsibility? Maybe if she had a man—"

"Spencer, I'm going to stop you right there," she said sharply. "I don't want us going back down this road."

His jaw clenched. "Of course, you don't."

"Honey, please... I'll make it up to you."

"Are you saying... you're ready to—"

"No, Spencer, we can't."

"We can't or you won't?" His voice cooled, cutting through the warmth they'd shared. "I'll pick up the kids. See you whenever you decide to come home." He ended the call before she could respond.

Trina stared at her phone and an ache settled deep in her chest.

Spencer slammed his fist on his desk, frustration boiling over. "And so, it begins..."

________________________________________

Later that night, Trina stepped quietly into their bedroom. Spencer sat in bed, eyes glued to his iPad, the light casting a glow over his tense face.

"Hey, honey, I'm sorry I'm a little..." She leaned down to kiss him, but he turned his face away.

"A little late," he finished coldly. "You missed homework, dinner, bath time, and bedtime."

Her heart twisted. "Honey, I'm sorry."

"You should shower. I have an early day tomorrow." Without another glance, he switched off his bedside lamp. "Goodnight."

The coolness in his voice stung. Trina lingered for a moment before heading to the bathroom, her chest heavy with guilt.

When she returned, freshly showered, she slid into bed and wrapped herself around him, hoping to bridge the distance. His body stirred, the tension giving way as he dragged his nails along her thigh. Heat flared between them, his lips finding her neck.

"Spencer, we can't," she moaned softly.

"Why not?" he murmured, his mouth trailing heated kisses along her skin.

"Spencer, no..."

His patience snapped. "Argh... fuck, Trina." The bitterness in his voice cut deep.

Without another word, he grabbed a pillow and stalked out of the bedroom, leaving her alone with the weight of their unraveling connection. She screamed into her pillow, frustration bubbling over.

________________________________________

For the next two weeks, Trina drifted further from home. Nearly every day, she was out with Joss—shopping, yoga, brunches, dinners, etc. Meanwhile, Spencer held down the fort. Each night, he built pillows forts between them or left altogether when she tried to bridge the growing divide.

By the following Friday, Spencer and the kids were sprawled in the living room, preparing for family movie night.

"Alright, my little minions," Spencer grinned. "What's the movie of the night?"

Core tapped her finger against her chin in exaggerated thought. "How about Frozen?" she cheered.

"Ugh, no!" Chris groaned.

Spencer laughed. "Yeah, sweetheart, we're kind of Frozen out. Okay, son, it's on you. Make it a good one."

Chris paced dramatically, then spun around with a triumphant smile. "How about Sonic the Hedgehog?"

"Yes!" Spencer and Core cheered in unison, high-fiving.

Their excitement was cut short by the clinking of heels on the staircase. Spencer's breath hitched when he looked up.

Trina descended in a dark purple ruched one-shoulder corset mini dress, paired with gold embellished T-strap pumps. Gold drop earrings dangled from her ears, and matching bracelets glinted as she moved. Her hair formed body waves that was strategically placed on her naked shoulder. Her aroma was like a rich bouquet of sun-kissed flowers, their warmth mingling with the sweet, comforting hint of vanilla. Spencer's senses ignited, every nerve ending tingling with the intoxicating scent. His mind spiraled, consumed by one thought: the irresistible allure of her chocolate, perfectly melting atop his vanilla.

She was stunning.

"Wow, Mommy, you look beautiful," Chris said, eyes wide.

"You look like a princess!" Core squealed.

Trina smiled, touched by their adoration. "Thank you, my babies." She wrapped them both in warm hugs. "What are you up to?"

"It's family movie night, Mommy. Did you forget?" Core's voice held a hint of hurt. From across the room, Spencer stood with his arms crossed.

Trina's heart sank. "Oh, sweetheart, I did. I'm so sorry. How about we switch to tomorrow instead?"

"Sorry, Mommy, no can do. We're watching all the Sonic movies," Chris declared.

"One of my favorites," she said softly. "It stars Tika Sumpter."

"Hey guys, grab some snacks," Spencer said, his voice tight.

The kids scampered off to the kitchen, leaving the couple alone in the charged silence.

"You've been quiet," Trina said softly, stepping closer.

He shook his head, tension still thrumming through his frame. "You forgot family night? What could possibly be more important than your family these past couple of weeks? Let me guess—it rhymes with toss. As in, you need to toss her aside."

"Honey, please," she whispered, her fingers brushing against his face. "Let's not fight."

His shoulders eased beneath her touch. "You look beautiful," he admitted, his voice softer. "Where are you going?"

She hesitated before meeting his gaze. "Joss and I are going to The Savoy."

His expression remained unreadable as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Have fun. Be safe. Call me when you get there."

Relief and longing mingled in her chest. "I will." She turned to leave, but something held her back. Without thinking, she spun around, grabbed his face, and kissed him deeply.

He groaned against her mouth, his hands sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her against his hardening length. Fire blazed between them until the sound of something crashing in the kitchen broke the spell.

Spencer instantly grabbed a throw pillow to cover his growing erection.

Breathless, they stared at each other, the air between them heavy with unspoken need.

"I'll see you tonight," she said, her voice dripping with promise.

His cock twitched beneath his sweatpants as he watched her walk away, wondering how much longer he could hold on.

Chapter Text

THE SAVOY

Trina sat at the bar, knocking back tequila shots while her eyes tracked Joss moving effortlessly across the dance floor. The bass throbbed through the room, but Trina barely felt it. She twirled her empty glass between her fingers as Joss sauntered over, flushed and glowing after the song ended.

"Hey, T," Joss teased, leaning against the bar. "You planning to hold that stool hostage all night?"

Trina smirked, eyeing the tall, dark-haired guy who had been dancing with her friend. "You looked good out there. And he's cute. What’s his name?"

"Oh, you mean Aaron?" Joss's cheeks turned pink as she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "He's sweet. And, by the way, Aaron has a friend—"

Trina held up a hand, signaling the bartender for another round. "Have you lost your mind? My husband would kill him, you, and then me in that order. I am not dancing with some random guy."

Joss rolled her eyes, leaning closer. "Trina, chill out. I'm not telling you to cheat. It's just a dance, totally innocent."

"Innocent or not," Trina muttered, downing another shot, "the only man I want to dance with is my husband."

Joss's playful smile faded. "Maybe you should slow down. What’s going on with you?"

Trina let out a bitter laugh, drumming her nails against the bar. "I miss my husband," she said, half-singing the words with a forced lightness. But the ache beneath was impossible to hide.

"Triiiina," Joss coaxed, wrapping a comforting arm around her friend's shoulders. "Come on, girl. You need to hang in there. This is all for the future of your marriage, remember?"

The DJ dropped the beat to "Heavy D - Big Daddy," and Trina's mood shifted as the familiar track washed over her. "Oh, that’s my song," she said, grinning as she flagged the bartender. "Keep them coming my dad won’t mind."

A burst of laughter from behind made both women turn. Aaron and his friend had strolled over, exuding charm and confidence.

"Ladies," Aaron greeted smoothly before gesturing to his friend. "This is Miguel." Miguel is tall, olive complexion, with black hair, and hazel eyes.

"Nice to meet you," Miguel said, his Puerto Rican accent thick as he flashed a warm smile at Trina.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, his tone hopeful.

Trina shook her head quickly. "No, I’m fine, really."

"She would love to dance," Joss chimed in, grabbing Trina's hand before she could protest. "Come on, babe, live a little!"

"Joss—" Trina started, but her friend was already pulling her toward the dance floor. The guys followed, and before long, the shots and the music took hold. Her hesitation faded into the blur of flashing lights and infectious beats.

At first, she kept her distance from Miguel, but as the alcohol warmed her veins, she let herself loosen up. Laughter spilled from her lips as the group danced through one track after another. For a while, it was easy to forget everything else.

Until the DJ slowed things down.

The smooth, sultry notes of "Usher - Slow Jam" filled the air. Miguel seized the moment, stepping in close and placing a hand gently on her waist. Trina stiffened, an uneasy knot twisting in her stomach.

"You're a good dancer," he murmured, his voice low against her ear.

The room suddenly felt too warm. Too loud. "I need to sit down," she mumbled, trying to step back.

But Miguel didn’t let go. His hand tightened as he leaned in, eyes dark with intent.

"Come on," he urged softly, tilting his head as if he meant to kiss her.

Panic surged. Trina twisted out of his grasp just in time, her heart thudding against her rib cage. Without a word, she spun on her heel and stalked off the dance floor, her pulse roaring in her ears.

Back at the bar, she slammed down enough cash to cover her tab. One more shot burned down her throat before she turned for the door. Joss called after her, concern lacing her voice, but Trina didn't stop.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she staggered up the stairs, the ache of missing her husband heavier than ever.

Chapter Text

THE PENTHOUSE

Spencer and the kids had just finished watching two Sonic movies and were about to start the third when a rapid knocking at the door caught them off guard.

Trina fumbled with the lock, knocking and kicking the door in frustration. Spencer and the kids jumped at the loud, persistent banging. "You guys stay here," Spencer instructed as he stood and walked to the door. He opened it abruptly, and Trina stumbled in, falling into his arms.

"Hey, you're handsome (hiccup). What's your name, and what are you doing in my house? (hiccup) Is this my house?" she slurred, her words thick with alcohol.

"Yes, this is your home, but I live here too," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her.

She pushed him off weakly. "I can do it," she insisted, wobbling toward the living room with one shoe on. The kids watched wide-eyed as she swayed and stumbled. "HEY...HEY," she shouted. "What's your name?"

She pointed at Spencer. "Are these your kids? They're beautiful," she added, barely managing to stay upright.

Spencer sighed, trying to keep his patience. "My name is Spencer," he answered.

"Oooh, Speeen-sir," she giggled, saluting him dramatically (hiccup).

"Mommy, are you okay?" Chris asked with concern.

"Are you sick?" Core added, frowning.

Trina staggered toward them, but Spencer quickly stepped in. "Mommy? I'm not your mother. My name is Mona Lisa," she declared, her face scrunching up in confusion. “What’s your name pretty girl?”

"Ewww," the kids groaned, fanning their faces as the scent of alcohol wafted over them.

"Daddy, what's going on? Is Mommy drunk?" Chris asked, his face wrinkled with worry.

"My name is Mona Lisa!" Trina snapped, stomping her foot, only to wince in pain. "Ouch!"

Spencer, clearly exasperated, took a deep breath. "Hey guys, how about we call it a night? We can watch Sonic 3 tomorrow. I need to get Mommy ready for bed." He wrapped his arm around Trina's waist, attempting to steer her toward the stairs.

"No, Daddy, no," the twins chorused. "Pleeeease, can we stay up and watch the movie?" They clasped their hands together, flashing him their most angelic smiles, eyes wide and hopeful.

"I told you, my name is Mona Lisa, not Mommy! And I'm not going anywhere." With surprising energy, she spun free from his grasp. "I want to dance." And dance she did—flailing around the living room like a rhythmless octopus while belting out a song.

"Monie in the middle (Where she at?) In the middle
Yep, Monie's in the middle (Where that at?) In the middle
Monie in the middle (Where she at?) In the middle
(Go Mon, Mon, what is she?) Monie in the middle
Monie in the middle (Where she at?) In the middle
Yep, Monie's in the middle (Where that at?) In the middle
Monie in the middle (Where she at?) In the middle
(Go Mon, Mon, what is she?) Monie in the middle."

Chris grabbed Spencer's phone and started recording, giggling as his mother continued her impromptu performance. The twins collapsed into fits of laughter, tears streaming down their faces as they cheered her on. Spencer, despite himself, struggled to hold in his amusement, trying to maintain some semblance of authority.

“Monie in the Monie in the Monie in the Middle
Monie in the Monie in the Monie in the Middle
Monie in the Monie in the Monie in the Middle
The middle, the middle, the the the middle
Monie in the Monie in the Monie in the Middle
Monie in the Monie in the Monie in the Middle…”

Trina twirled dramatically and stopped when she noticed Chris filming. "Are you filming me?" she asked, grinning. "Well, get this—" She attempted an off-balance leap, only to crash to the floor with a loud "THUD."

Spencer rushed to her side, as tears welled in her eyes.

"Mommy, are you okay?" the twins asked in unison, their giggles quickly replaced by concern. Chris immediately stopped recording.

"I'm going to take Mom—Mona Lisa upstairs and fix her boo-boo," Spencer said softly, lifting her easily into his arms.

Trina wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head against his chest. Spencer held her close, his heart aching at the sight of her in this state. He silently cursed Joss for not bringing her home safely. 'That bitch,' he thought bitterly.

Trina lifted her head slightly, her doe-like eyes gazing up at him. "Will you marry me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His expression softened. "A proposal so soon? We just met," he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"I know, but it feels like I could love you for the rest of my life," she murmured, her breath warm against his skin.

A blush crept up his neck. "Yes, I will marry you. I will always marry you," he promised.

"Speeen-sir," she giggled again, saluting him playfully. "Can we have babies?"

"How about twins?" he joked, kissing her cheek gently.

Trina’s smile faded as dizziness washed over her. "I don't feel too well," she confessed, her face pale.

Without hesitation, Spencer carried her upstairs to their bathroom suite, arriving just in time for her to empty the contents of her stomach. He held her hair back and rubbed her back soothingly, his heart breaking a little more with every heave.

Afterward, she lay sprawled on the cool marble floor, praying to the porcelain gods for mercy. Spencer knelt beside her, his touch gentle as he propped her up and reached for a pack of makeup wipes. With careful strokes, he removed the smudged remnants of her makeup, then brushed her teeth with patient precision.

Without a word, he ran a warm bubble bath, the scent of lavender filling the air as he eased her out of her clothes. Lifting her delicate frame, he placed her into the soothing water, his hands moving over her skin with tender care. Soft moans escaped her lips with each caress as he washed away the night.

When the bath was finished, he wrapped her in a plush towel, carrying her to bed. He completed her nightly routine, applying lotion to her skin, placing her hair in a silk bonnet before tucking her beneath the covers. For a moment, he stood at her bedside, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest.

Temptation stirred in him, dark and insistent. What’s the harm in another peek? he mused. Or a lick, a kiss… maybe just one bite.

The distant sound of their children’s laughter echoed downstairs, shattering the spell. With a heavy sigh, he shook off his desire and quietly left the room to join the kids, leaving Trina to sleep off the night.

Chapter Text

THE NEXT MORNING

On Trina’s nightstand, a breakfast tray sat neatly with two playful notes. One on the vitamin water read "Drink me," and the other on the aspirin bottle read "Take me."

Downstairs, laughter echoed through the living room as Spencer and the kids sat cuddled on the couch, watching cartoons and enjoying the last bites of breakfast.

Trina, still battling a hangover, shuffled down the stairs with a hand pressed to her forehead. The sound of giggles and the brightness of the morning only intensified the pounding in her head.

As soon as they spotted her, Chris and Core jumped up and began to mimic the dance moves they had apparently committed to memory.

“What are they doing?” Trina asked, squinting at Spencer. “Babies, you’re making Mommy dizzy—please sit down.”

“We’re doing the Mommy dance!” Core announced proudly, spinning in an exaggerated twirl.

Chris, never one to be outdone, smirked. “Don’t you mean the Mona Lisa?” His words sent both kids into a fit of laughter as they doubled over in delight.

Trina shot Spencer a confused look. “What are they talking about?”

“Stop teasing your mother.” Spencer trying and failing to suppress a grin, leaned back against the couch. “You don’t remember anything from last night?” He arched a brow, his tone laced with amusement. “Pancakes or toast? You need something to soak up that tequila.”

“I…what?” Her confusion deepened as she tried to piece together the night.

Chris, ever the instigator, grabbed Spencer’s phone with a gleeful grin. “Do you wanna see, Mommy?” Before she could answer, he hit play.

The video captured Trina, mid-dance floor performance, twirling, shaking, and attempting a dramatic leap and singing Monie Love classic - Monie In The Middle. Her stomach twisted with fresh nausea as she groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Please tell me that’s the only copy and destroy it.”

Chris blinked innocently. “I sent it to Pau Pau, and he said he’ll talk to you later.”

“You sent the video to my dad?” Her voice rose in horror as the pounding in her head intensified. “I think I need to sit down.”

Spencer’s laughter slipped free as he gets up from the couch and moves to steady her. “Baby, you look like you’re about to faint. How about I take the kids out for the day so you can have some peace and quiet?”

“Daddy, can we go to Disneyland?” ask Chris. “DISNEYLAND!” Chris and Core shouted in unison, bouncing on their heels with the boundless energy only children possessed.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed.

“No!” Trina countered, narrowing her eyes at him. “How could you say yes?” she demanded.

“How could you say no?” he shot back, his grin widening.

“Spencer, you’re spoiling them. You can’t just fly them across the country on a whim!”

“Why not, Mommy? We have a jet,” Chris said matter-of-factly, flashing his father an admiring look embracing his Cassadine privilege with no shame.

Spencer’s chest puffed with pride as he ruffled his son’s hair. Trina, however, let out an exasperated sigh.

“Because I said so,” she argued, rubbing her temples. “How about the aquarium instead? It’s local, and they still get to see animals.”

“Aww, man!” the kids groaned in perfect synchronization.

Spencer clapped his hands together. “Alright, my little minions, go upstairs and get ready while I talk to your mom.”

When they scurried off, Trina folded her arms as Spencer turned to her, flashing the kind of smile that usually got him whatever he wanted.

“Uh, no,” she said firmly, reading his expression. “They are not going to Disneyland.”

“How about this,” he bargained smoothly, stepping closer. “You go upstairs, rest that pretty little head, and I’ll have the chef whip up something magical for your hangover. Deal?”

His lips brushed her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch. Before she could argue, he gently steered her toward the stairs.

“Fine,” she muttered, too exhausted to protest. “But they’re not going to Disneyland.”

Spencer chuckled under his breath as he watched her retreat. “We’ll see about that,” he murmured, already planning his next move.

LATER THAT NIGHT

Trina woke up to the dim glow of moonlight filtering through the windows. The house was cloaked in silence, the once lively rooms now still. She stretched, realizing she had slept the entire day away. With a sigh, she padded downstairs, her bare feet cool against the polished floor.

The house was unusually quiet—too quiet. She wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a quick bite before settling on the couch. The familiar theme song of The Golden Girls played softly in the background as she curled up beneath a throw blanket, hoping the comfort of an old favorite would distract her from the ache in her body.

Hours slipped by before the sound of the front door opening broke the silence. Laughter spilled into the room as Spencer and the children returned—no longer quiet, no longer still.

“Daddy, you're the best—I love you!” Chris exclaimed; his voice filled with joy as he clung to Spencer’s side.

“Me too! I had so much fun, Daddy. And I love you too,” Core giggled, spinning in a whirl of satin and glitter, her Princess Tiana gown twinkling in the dim light. She clung to a stuffed Mickey Mouse plush, the kind only sold in the parks. The sight of her pure delight only added fuel to the slow burn rising within Trina.

Spencer chuckled softly, carrying the easy confidence of a man who had given his children the perfect day, brushing a hand through Chris’s curls. “I’m glad you guys had a good time but let’s keep it down, okay? We don’t want to wake Mommy.”

But it was too late for that.

Trina rose from the couch and stepped into the foyer, her expression hardening at the sight before her. Spencer stood there in a Disney World t-shirt, their son wearing a matching one, while their daughter sparkled like royalty. The evidence was undeniable.

“So… after I specifically told you they couldn’t go to Disneyland,” her voice trembled with fury, “you decided to take them anyway. How could you?”

Chris, sensing the tension, took a hesitant step forward. “But, Mommy—”

“ENOUGH!” The word cracked like a whip, making both children jump in fear.

The joy on their faces faded instantly, replaced by confusion and hurt.

Spencer knelt down, his voice soft but steady. “It’s okay, babies. Go upstairs and get ready for bed. I’ll be up to tuck you in soon.” His warmth was a stark contrast to the ice in Trina’s tone.

Chris hesitated before taking Core’s hand and leading her toward the staircase, the joy from moments before now replaced by uncertainty.

As soon as the sound of their footsteps faded, Trina opened her mouth to speak again, but Spencer raised a hand, silencing her in an instant.

He waited, listening carefully for the sound of their bedroom doors closing, before turning on his heel and heading toward the bar. Without a word, he poured himself a glass of scotch, the amber liquid catching the faint light as he swallowed a deep gulp.

Trina followed, her anger battling with the sudden sting of guilt. “So that’s it? You’re not going to say anything?”

Slamming the glass onto the bar with a force that made her jump, he finally spoke. “What is your fucking problem, Trina?” His voice was low, rough, and simmering with frustration. “I took them to Disney World not Disneyland, which is much closer, which I shouldn't have to explain myself to you. The only reason I had to take the kids out is because YOU needed to rest. Because YOU decided to go on a bender. YOU decided that family night wasn’t worth your time, your attention, your effort. But don’t pretend like I’m the bad guy here for having to pick up the pieces. I don’t need you dictating how I raise MY children. I’m an exceptional father— I don’t need you questioning that.”

The coldness in his tone knocked the breath from her lungs. “Spencer, I wasn’t trying to imply that you aren’t—”

“I’m. Not. Done.” His words cut through her apology like a knife. “I don’t know what’s going on with you. Are you having some early mid-life crisis? Because lately, you’ve checked out of this marriage. You asked me to participate in these 'so-called' exercises to fix us and where did that go? You’ve haven't mentioned that damn book after the first week. The only part of that whole damn plan you’ve stuck to is the part where we don’t have sex.” His voice cracked slightly, the frustration spilling over.

Each word struck like a physical blow, but he wasn’t finished.

“I’m not okay with you talking down to me like I’m some incompetent father. It’s starting to feel a lot like being around Joss and I didn’t sign up to marry someone like that. You’re out partying, getting drunk, leaving your responsibilities at home behind. And for what? If you’re regretting this life—our life, then just say that.”

He turned on his heel, heading for the stairs, but Trina tears now spilling freely down her face, rushed after him. She grabbed his wrist, desperation clawing at her chest.

“Spencer—no! That’s not true!” Her voice cracked under the weight of her emotions.

He didn’t soften. Carefully, he removed her hand from his wrist and stepped back. “You need to apologize to MY children,” he said, his voice low and final. Without another glance, he disappeared up the stairs, leaving her standing alone in the wreckage of her own making.

The weight of his words crushed her, and as the last sound of his footsteps faded, her knees buckled. She stumbles to the couch, collapsing into it like a weight she couldn’t carry anymore. Tears continue to spill out and she couldn't even try to hide them, streaking down her face in hot, steady streams. She lets her head fall back, staring at the TV in a daze. Blanche Devereaux is in full glam, adjusting her lipstick, gearing up for another date. The absurdity of it hits her like a slap in the face.

“Yeah, of course," she says, voice hollow. “Four women over the age of fifty, still out there looking for love... And here I am, putting myself in the same predicament.” She watches Blanche, with her perfect smile and endless optimism, and for a second, it feels like the universe is mocking her. The irony isn’t lost on her; it's almost too cruel to be real. Through choked sobs, she whispered into the empty silence, “What have I done?”

Chapter Text

AT BOBBIE’S

Spencer runs to Bobbie's early in the morning before opening hours, his shirt clinging to his damp skin. He knocks on the glass door repeatedly, urgency evident in his actions. Inside, Cam looks up from wiping down the counter, frowning as he strides over to unlock the door.

"Spencer, what the hell? The sun's barely up. Did you run here? Why are you soaking wet?"

"Cam, I need your help," Spencer pants, hands on his knees, catching his breath.

Cam rolls his eyes, disappearing into the back before reemerging with a towel. He tosses it at Spencer’s chest. "Calm down and tell me what's going on. Want some coffee?"

Spencer plops onto a stool at the counter and nods. "Yeah. And something to eat if you’ve got it."

"Bakery just dropped off fresh donuts. Chocolate frosted, okay?"

"Sure," Spencer mumbles as Cam plates one in front of him.

Spencer stares at the donut, his mind slipping into a vivid fantasy. The rich chocolate glaze reminds him of Trina’s warm brown skin, and before he can stop himself, he imagines his lips trailing over his wife’s perky breasts.

"Spencer! Spencer! Dude, are you okay?" Cam snaps his fingers in front of his face. "I've been calling your name for, like, a full minute."

Spencer shakes his head, blinking rapidly. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I asked if you wanted cream in your coffee," Cam deadpan, already pouring. "Just tell me when."

Spencer nods absentmindedly. Watching the silky white cream swirl into the dark liquid sends another involuntary jolt of arousal through Spencer. He grips the counter.

"Spencer!" Cam barks. "Dude, what is going on with you? There's barely any coffee left in this cup after all the damn cream."

Spencer exhales sharply, rubbing his hands over his face. "It’s everything with Trina. Not having sex is killing me. That’s all I can think about. Even this—adding cream, the donut it’s all a turn-on."

Cam recoils. "Spencer, that’s disgusting."

"It’s the truth!" Spencer exclaims. "I've tried everything to distract myself. I’ve been working out like a lunatic; I haven’t taken a hot shower in weeks." He jumps up and begins to pace.

"Wait, what?"

"Cold showers, Cam! Ice packs! I think my boys are going numb. It’s so bad I’ve started sleeping in the other bedroom."

Cam laughs. "You lasted longer than I thought. Are you saying that your marriage can't be sustained without sex?” He arches a brow. “And stop pacing you’re making me dizzy.”

"This isn't funny," Spencer groans. "You know me, Cam. Trina and I have been through hell and back. This is nothing compared to what we've survived."

"Then what’s the problem? If you two have handled worse, why is this making you spiral?"

Spencer clenches his jaw. "It’s Joss. I don't like how much control she has over Trina. How she gets a say in my damn marriage. For the first time, it feels like Trina's checked out. Every time I bring it up, we fight. Joss convinced her to do this ridiculous challenge, and like an idiot, I went along with it. But it was all a scam. Joss just wanted Trina to herself."

Spencer’s expression darkens. "She let Trina come home drunk alone last night. We had a huge fight last night. I regret how I spoke to her, but I meant every word. Go ahead, you can say it. That I’m overreacting and I’m the worst husband. I need your help, man. I need to fix this before it gets worse." He slumps on the counter. Cam is eerily quiet. “Dude, aren’t you going to chew me out and tell me I was wrong?”

Cam leans against the counter, thinking. "I can’t Spencer. Your feelings are valid. I wish I could say I’m shocked, but that sounds exactly like Joss. What do you need from me?"

Spencer's eyes glint with desperation. "Run interference with Joss. Distract her so I can get my wife back."

Cam eyes him warily. "Are you asking me to… sleep with Joss? Because if so, hard pass. Been there, done that. Not interested."

"Come on, Cam! If not for me, do it for your niece and nephew. You wouldn't want them to grow up in a broken home!"

Cam scoffs. "Using the children now? Classy." He says sarcastically.

"I’ll give you anything. Money is no object! How about a new guitar?"

"My guitar works just fine."

"A record label?"

"I’m not having sex with Joss, Spencer."

"A Ferrari? It can match your eyes."

Cam stares at him in disbelief. "Do you hear yourself? Bribing me."

"Fine! I'll name my next kid after you!" Spencer blurts.

Cam narrows his eyes, but his lips twitch in amusement. "Wait… you and Trina are trying for a baby?"

Spencer grins wickedly. "Trust me, after this, she’ll be pregnant whether she knows it or not."

Cam bursts into laughter. "Dude, you sound unhinged."

"I’m serious! She’s gonna be octomom!"

Cam wipes a tear from his eye. "Okay, okay. Look, I actually have a better idea than me throwing myself into Joss’s orbit."

Spencer leans in, intrigued. "I’m listening."

"Fight fire with fire. Trust me, by the end of this, you’ll have Trina back."

Spencer arches a brow. "And what do you get out of it?"

Cam smirks. "That Ferrari is sounding pretty nice."

Spencer slaps his back. "Done."

"I was kidding! It’s free of charge."

"Well, I’m not kidding. You’re getting that car."

Cam shakes his head. "For now, you can repay me by helping with the breakfast crowd. Do you have clean clothes in your gym bag?"

Spencer nods.

"Then go upstairs, take a shower, please and when you come back, I’ll tell you the plan."

Spencer hesitates at the stairs. "Cam… thanks. I really appreciate this. But what if your plan doesn’t work?"

Cam grins. "I guess I’m taking one for the team."

Spencer starts laughing and heads upstairs as Cam chuckles, shaking his head.

Chapter Text

AURORA FITNESS CLUB

Later that morning, Trina rolled up her yoga mat with sharp, controlled movements, her breath still steady from the workout but her mind anything but calm. Joss lingered nearby, shifting her weight from one foot to the other before finally breaking the silence.

"Hey, T, how are you feeling after the other night?"

Trina let out a sharp, humorless laugh as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Please don’t pretend like you care."

Joss arches a brow. "What? Trina, where is this coming from?"

Trina turned to face her, and the raw betrayal in her eyes made Joss take a small step back. "You are unbelievable, Joss." Her voice trembled not with weakness, but with barely restrained fury. "You have single-handedly wrecked my marriage." She inhaled sharply; her hands clenched into fists before she forced them to relax. "And worse? I let you. That’s on me. But no more."

She spun on her heel, heading for the door.

Joss’s stomach knotted in panic as she chased after her. "Trina, wait! What are you saying?"

"I’m saying I need space," Trina snapped, whipping around so fast that Joss nearly collided with her. "I finally understand why married couples put distance between themselves and their single friends."

Joss scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. "Seriously? You’re blaming me? I didn’t force you to drink that night! In fact, I told you to stop!"

Trina’s nostrils flared. "Oh, you’re right about that just like you encouraged me to dance with a man who isn’t my husband."

Joss sucked in a breath, guilt flickering across her face. "Trina, about that…"

Trina’s entire body went still, her pulse drumming in her ears. "What?"

Joss hesitated, looking anywhere but at Trina. Then, barely above a whisper, "I… I accidentally gave your number to Miguel."

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

Then—"You what?"

Trina’s voice was eerily soft, but her entire body vibrated with fury. The walls of the yoga studio felt too small, too tight, as the betrayal settled into her bones.

Joss swallowed hard. "It wasn’t on purpose! He just—he just wanted to check on you, to make sure he didn’t cross a line."

Trina let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "And your brilliant solution was to hand him my phone number?" She took a step closer, her voice dropping into something cold, something dangerous. "So now I get to go home and explain to my husband that I’m not having sex with thanks to you, why a random man is ‘checking in’ on me? Explain to me how that doesn’t make me look guilty, Joss. Make it make sense."

Joss’s throat tightened. "Trina, I—I'm sorry, okay? I’ll call Aaron. I’ll make sure Miguel never reaches out. I didn’t think—"

"No, you didn’t think." Trina’s hands trembled as she exhaled through her nose, gripping her yoga mat so tightly her knuckles turned white. "You want to fix this? Fix yourself, Joss. Because I am not losing Spencer over your reckless decisions."

She turned to leave but paused, casting Joss a final, mortifying look. Her voice was ice. "And if Miguel so much as breathes in my direction? I won’t be responsible for how Spencer chooses to handle it."

Joss felt her stomach plummet. A chill ran down her spine as she watched Trina walked away, the sound of her retreating footsteps ringing louder than they should. Hands shaking, Joss fumbled for her phone, typing out a frantic message.

Joss: Tell Miguel not to call Trina. Ever. This is serious.

Her heart pounded as she hit send, then shoved the phone in her pocket before racing after her best friend, desperate to fix what might already be broken.

BOBBIE’S DINER

Cam had formulated a plan to get the lovebirds back together, and Spencer was ready to implement it as soon as he got home. But for now, the morning rush at Bobbie’s had slowed, leaving space for the unexpected.

A group of women, fresh from what seemed like a yoga class, glided into the diner, their sleek, colorful outfits hugging their toned frames. Their conversation hushed as they caught sight of the strikingly handsome waiter.

Spencer Cassadine, dressed in a snug white T-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and biceps, paired with dark blue jeans and shell-top Adidas, looked more like a Calvin Klein model moonlighting as a server. He carried himself with an effortless charm, but today, he wasn’t just here to help Cam—he had an agenda.

Cam caught the stares, grinning as he elbowed his cousin. “I believe that table is all yours.”

Spencer smirked, rolling his eyes. “Story of my life.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel and sauntered over to the group.

The women watched him like he was dessert, practically salivating as he approached, then their eyes locked onto him like he was the main course rather than the one serving it. “I haven’t seen you here before,” a brunette in a lavender yoga set purred, resting her elbow on the table as she leaned in slightly.

“I’m just helping out my family,” Spencer replied smoothly, gesturing toward Cam, who threw a wave their way. The ladies followed suit, their interest not waning in the slightest.

One of them, a fiery redhead in a black and red outfit, twirled her hair between her fingers and asked, “Is that a wedding ring on your finger?”

Spencer lifted his hand casually, the platinum and diamond band glinting in the light. “Yeah, it is.”

A blonde in floral-printed spandex tilted her head, eyes sharp. “Happily?”

Spencer’s lips curved into a genuine smile, the kind only one person in the world could bring out. “Very happily.”

Just then, the bell above the door jingled. Trina stepped inside, her eyes instinctively landing on Spencer. She took in the scene the way the women practically draped themselves in his presence, the flirtation that danced so easily around the table. Her gaze flicked to Cam, then back to her husband. “Hello,” she said coolly, her tone unreadable.

Spencer straightened, meeting her eyes. “Hello.” Then, turning back to the table, “ladies, I’ll put in your orders and be back with your drinks.”

As he walked away, one of the women let out a wistful sigh. “God, he has an ass of steel.”

Another in a white and green set added, “He looks just as good going as he does coming.”

The table erupted in laughter, their voices like nails on a chalkboard to Trina.

Jaw tight, Trina walked to the counter and slid onto a stool, pretending not to hear. Spencer and Cam exchanged knowing looks as they prepped the drink order.

“Spencer, can we talk?” Trina asked quietly, her voice barely masking her frustration.

Spencer didn’t meet her eyes. “Trina, I’m busy. Cam’s been swamped all morning; I’m helping him out.” Without another word, he grabbed the first drink tray and headed back to the table.

Trina exhaled sharply, turning to Cam. “What the hell is going on?”

Cam glanced at her over the espresso machine. “What do you mean?”

She shot him a glare. “With my husband. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough to entertain that pack of she-wolves.” She gestured toward the table, her annoyance obvious.

Cam fought back a laugh. “T, he’s literally just helping me. Is something wrong?”

Before she could answer, the door jingled again. Josslyn strode in, her eyes flicking between Spencer and Trina, immediately sensing the tension.

“What’s going on over there?” she asked Trina, nodding toward the lively table.

Trina shot her a glare. “Don’t act like you care.”

As if on cue, another round of flirtatious giggles erupted from Spencer’s table. Trina scoffed. “He’s not even that funny,” she muttered, though her gaze lingered on him longer than she’d like to admit.

Joss shrugged. “Hey, they were in our yoga class. We could squash this easily.” She made a move to walk over, but Trina grabbed her wrist.

“Joss, just stop. You’ve done enough.”

Meanwhile, Spencer returned, and Cam set the ladies’ remaining drink orders on a tray.

“Joss, can I have a word?” Cam asked, motioning toward the corner. She hesitated, then followed.

The moment they were out of earshot, he folded his arms. “I hope you’re enjoying this because this is all your fault.”

Joss let out an exasperated breath. “This has nothing to do with me. I’m so tired of everyone blaming me.”

Cam scoffed. “You can’t be serious right now.”

Joss’s jaw tightened. “Look, I was trying to help their marriage get stronger.”

“Well, congratulations,” Cam shot back. “It’s tearing them apart.”

“How is that my fault?” she argued. “At least now everything’s out in the open, and they can move forward.”

“Move forward to what?” Cam interjected. “Look at Trina. She looks miserable. Can you live with knowing you caused that pain for the rest of her life?”

Joss shifted uncomfortably, her gaze drifting toward Trina, who sat stiffly at the counter, her fingers curled into fists. “Cam, that's a far stretch. It's not my fault that Cassadine turned into a Cassanova” she rolls her eyes.

Cam continued, his voice softer now. “And what about the twins? We both know what it’s like growing up with fractured families. We were both raised by single mothers. Sure, we had stepfathers in and out of our lives and you get to visit your dad in Australia. But we both know it's not the same. My biological father died before I could know him. Do you really want to put our godchildren through that? And for what? What are you getting out of destroying a family? Do you really want to put them through that?” and he walks away.

Joss swallowed hard, guilt creeping in despite her stubborn stance. She glanced at Trina again, then at Spencer, who, despite the bravado, looked just as conflicted.

Meanwhile, Trina had seen enough. She pushed back from the counter to leave, but in her haste, her foot caught on the chair leg.

“Ow, damn it!” she yelped as she tumbled forward.

Spencer turned instantly, reacting on pure instinct. In a flash, he was at her side, scooping her into his arms with effortless strength.

“Baby, are you okay?” His voice was thick with concern as he gently rocked her.

Trina, caught off guard by the sudden closeness, felt her face flush. “I am now,” she admitted softly, eyes locked on his.

“You sure? Maybe I should take you to GH,” he suggested, his hold on her unwavering.

“Spencer, I’m fine,” she insisted. "I may have twisted my ankle. It’s nothing serious; I’ll just go home and ice it.”

Spencer looked at Cam, not missing a beat. “I’m taking her home. If you need me, I’ll be back after I get her settled.”

Cam nodded. “You’ve done enough for today, man. Go.”

Trina squirmed. “Spencer, you can put me down. People are staring.”

Spencer glanced around, unfazed by the eyes on them. “Let them.”

Without hesitation, he carried her toward the door like she weighed nothing, her head resting against his shoulder. The yoga table sat in stunned silence, their earlier giggles fading into something closer to envy and awe.

As they stepped outside, Trina whispered just for him, “You’re ridiculous.”

Spencer grinned down at her. “And you’re mine.”

Chapter Text

THE PENTHOUSE

The door swings open. Spencer carefully carries Trina inside, cradling her like something fragile. He gently lowers her onto the couch, propping her injured leg on a stack of pillows. “Don’t move. I’ll get you an ice pack.”

Trina watches him disappear into the kitchen, anxiety flickering across her face. Her phone pings on the coffee table. She glances at it but doesn’t react. Spencer returns, kneeling in front of her, holding an ice pack.

“Here you go, baby. You need anything else?” Another ping cuts through the silence. Spencer glances toward her phone. “You wanna get that?”

Shaking her head. “No. It’s probably nothing. Actually… I wanted to talk. About us. About last night.” Ping.

Spencer checks his phone. It's silent. Another ping from hers. His brow furrows. “That sounds important. Maybe you should check it.”

“Honey, there’s nothing more important than you and me in this instance. I’m sure if it were an emergency with the kids we would have received phone calls. Actually, scratch that I need to use the bathroom first,” and smiles.

“Do you need help? I don't mind carrying you.”

“I'm sure you don’t.” She stands awkwardly trying not to put too much pressure on her ankle and limps to the bathroom. She disappears down the hallway. Another ping. And another.

Spencer’s jaw tightens. He glances at her phone. One more ping. Against his better judgment, he reaches for it. His body goes still. Eyes locked on the screen. Blood draining from his face, replaced by a slow, simmering red.

Trina limps back, wiping her hands, her smile soft and teasing. “Maybe I should’ve taken you up on the offer my foot’s killing me.”

Silence.

Her voice softens. “Spencer? What’s wrong? Are the kids, okay?” He doesn’t answer. She approaches cautiously. “Honey… you’re scaring me.” She reaches out to touch his face. He recoils.

His voice low and lethal. “Who is he?”

“Who’s who?” she asked, confused. He holds up her phone and she viewed the message. She freezes, her breath catching.

Hey Trina, it’s Miguel.
I got your number from Joss. Hope that’s okay.
I had a great time that night.
Maybe we can hook up again.
Hope to hear from you soon. 😘

“Spencer, I can explain”

“You have thirty seconds.”

“Honey, I love you. This is a misunderstanding…”

“Twenty-nine…, twenty-eight…, twenty-seven…”

“Nothing happened I swear…”

“Twenty…, nineteen…, eighteen…”

“Please, look at me! Listen to me! Tears brim in her eyes.” She reaches again, desperate.

“DON'T.” He sidesteps her touch like it burns.

“Ten… nine… eight…”

“Spencer please. Nothing happened. You have to believe me. I would never…”

“Three, two, one...” He hurls her phone across the room. It shatters against the wall.

Trina flinches.

Spencer storms to the bar, slamming a glass down, pouring scotch like he’s trying to drown the fire inside him.

His voice raw. “I can’t do this” and he begins to pace. “Aaargh...”

“I swear on our marriage, our love, on everything, we shared… nothing happened.

He lets out a bitter, broken laugh. “You have some nerve talking about love. Marriage? That what we’re calling this now?”

“I would never, could never betray our vows. Yes, we met at The Savoy, but I didn't remember his name until Joss reminded me today.”

“Of course,” he shakes his head.

“You were right about Joss. I don't know why she gave him my number. I don't know what she was trying to accomplish, and I told her as much. Baby, I spent that night missing you so much. All I could do was drink to numb the pain. Before I knew it, I was dragged on the dance floor then one thing led to another, and he...”

She freezes, “say it” he stared daggers at her.

“He tried to kiss me, and I ran home. That’s all I swear.”

“Hmph. So, you missed me, correct?” She nods her head an emphatic yes. “If you missed me so much, then why didn’t you bring your ASS home. I know why because of JOSS right? Because all of a sudden, my Superwoman found her kryptonite or has our marriage become that for you?

She swallows hard. “Is that it, Trina? Have I become the thing you need to escape from? Help me understand. When did my wife become weak and feeble-minded?”

He searched her eyes for an answer but was met with silence. He laughs again hysterically trying to avoid crying. “I wish I could blame Joss for everything. But these were your choices.”

He stormed upstairs and Trina stood there frozen. Moments later, he descends with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Spencer,” she says with a shaky breath. She limps over to him. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

"I’m sorry about your phone. I ordered a new one. It’ll be here soon."

“Spencer, you didn’t answer my question. Where…where are you going?”

“I'm going to the gym then I’ll be checking into the Metro Court”

“No…no” she shakes her head. “You can't leave me. What about the children? We have plenty of rooms here. I’ll stay out of your way." She says in a rush without taking a breath.

“Trina, I can’t breathe here. I'm suffocating.”

“We’re a family. Don’t do this… please…”

He finally steps toward her, brushing away her tears gently. She leans into his touch like its oxygen. As looks into her eyes, he sees a stranger.

“Keep your leg elevated. Don’t forget the ice.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. So tender, it shatters her.

“When you find my wife…”

“Tell her I miss her.” He turns and exits the penthouse. Then enters the elevator. As the doors close, a heart-wrenching scream tears through the penthouse. A sound so broken, so guttural, it could shatter glass.

Spencer collapses in the elevator. His back hits the wall, and his legs buckle beneath him. He buries his face in his fists and lets out a ragged, heart-shattering cry. Hot tears burn his vision, but nothing compares to the jagged shards of glass piercing through his heart. He has never felt heartache like this."

Chapter Text

VOLONINO’S GYM

The gym hit Spencer like a punch to the chest, the sharp tang of sweat, iron, and old rage cemented into the walls. The soundscape was a symphony of grunts and fists slamming against leather. To most, it was chaos. To Spencer, it was peace.

He moved like a shadow in all black, cutoff tee, long shorts, Nike Air Max. His face carved from stone, jaw tight, eyes dead behind the storm brewing inside him. He didn’t walk in; he stalked in. At the locker, he unpacked his arsenal—hand wraps, gloves, towel, AirPods, methodical, detached. Rage simmered under every motion, so controlled it was terrifying. He wound the wraps around his hands like a ritual, slipped in his AirPods, and scrolled his Spotify until he landed on his curated soundtrack to violence— ‘Fight Mix.’

As the opening beat of "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor slammed into his eardrums, he planted himself in front of the heavy bag, rolled his neck side to side until it cracked, and shook out his arms. He slid into stance: left foot forward, right foot angled, weight balanced like a loaded weapon. The leather bag barely flinched under his warm-up jabs—thud, thud, thud. But his mind wasn’t here. It was elsewhere, swirling with jealousy, betrayal, and Trina’s smile flashing at someone else. The next track dropped “Mama Said Knock You Out" by LL Cool J. His jabs turned into hooks, then uppercuts, calculated and vicious. The bag blurred, became the face of the guy who touched her, who breathed near her, who tried to take what was his. Bam. Bam. Bam. His fists slammed harder, knuckles biting through the gloves, the sound sharp like gunfire.

"X Gon’ Give It To Ya" by DMX blared next. His sweat-dripped hair clung to his forehead, eyes wild. He shoved his damp hair out of the way just before delivering a brutal right hook Smack! Then another, then another, until the bag swung like a pendulum. By the time "Fight Music" by D12 played, Spencer's lungs were screaming for air, but he refused to stop. Thwack, thwack, thwack. Each hit thundered through the gym. Then "Till I Collapse" by Eminem. His favorite. His breaking point. Every strike blurred with rage, grief, and sweat-sting eyes. Now, the bag had her face—Joss. Whack, whack, whack.

Precision. Fury. Exhaustion. Until…A hand tapped his shoulder. He spun, heart still racing, fists half-raised. And there she was. Joss.

“FUCK!” It slipped out like a growl.

She gave a little wave, trying to hide her nerves. “Well, hello to you too.”

He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m busy. As you can see” and turns his attention to the leather bag.

She plucked an AirPod from his ear. “Spencer. I need to talk to you.”

He ripped off his gloves with his teeth, grabbed the AirPod back, and shoved it in his pocket. “You do realize the sun doesn’t rise and set on your ass, right?”

He grabbed his towel, wiping the sweat from his face and hair, then slung it around his neck. Water bottle to his lips, he took a long pull before finally looking at her.

“I didn’t come here to fight,” she said quietly.

“Well, that’s exactly why I’m here,” he shot back, voice flat. “How’d you find me?”

She hesitated. “Cam told me.”

He rolled his eyes and turned toward the locker room, but she grabbed his arm.

“Spencer, I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

He stopped, but didn’t face her. “What did you say?”

She exhaled like it cost her everything. “I said I’m sorry. Must you be an ass?”

He turned now, shaking his head. “That didn’t sound like an apology. You’re usually loud, wrong, and strong but when it’s time to say sorry, you’re meek as a mouse. Like it’s physically painful for you. What are you apologizing for?”

Her lips pressed into a line. “You know what I’m apologizing for.”

“No, please, enlighten me. Because I’d love to hear it.”

“I’m sorry for everything, okay? Jackass.”

He laughed dryly, no humor in it. “You can’t even say it without calling me names.”

“I was trying, but you’re making it—”

“Hard?” he cut her off, voice sharp. “Am I making it hard for you, Joss? The way you’ve been making my marriage hard these last few years but especially this past month?”

Her eyes snapped up, defensive. “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“Oh, is it?” His voice dipped, dangerous now. “Because my marriage was solid until you decided to play puppet master.”

She crossed her arms, chin raised. “Maybe it wasn’t that solid if it cracked so easily.”

Spencer laughed, bitter and tired. “And there it is. Straight from the source.” He snaps his fingers, "thank you, marriage counselor..."

“You wanna know what the problem is, Joss? What the common denominator is, Joss? YOU…YOU ARE THE PROBLEM JOSS.” He shook his head, scanning the gym as eyes lingered too long. Lowered his voice. “You’re loud, arrogant, pretentious, obnoxious, insufferable, egotistical, always gotta have the last word…should I keep going?”

She lifted a hand, stopping him. “Aren’t you just describing yourself?”

That made him pause. Just for a beat. “You’re right,” he said finally. “Because I see it in you. The worst parts of myself. So, call me pot and you kettle. But there’s one thing I’m not—malicious. I wouldn’t knowingly set fire to something I claimed to love.”

He met her eyes, voice low, deadly calm. “Can you say the same?”

Chapter Text

VOLONINO’S GYM

Joss lowers her head, her voice brittle. “I’m sorry.”

Spencer lets out a hollow laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Sorry?” He draws in a sharp breath, keeping his voice low but lethal. “Do you even realize how dangerous that night could’ve been? Anything could’ve happened to my wife, to the mother of my children. She could’ve gotten behind the wheel drunk, crashed, killed herself or someone else. She could’ve disappeared without a trace. You don’t know the things I imagined when I saw her.”

He swipes a hand across his mouth, pacing once before locking eyes with her. “And while she was one bad decision away from being a headline, what were you doing? Oh, that’s right…” He taps his chin mockingly, then snaps his fingers. “You were giving some random guy her phone number.”

Joss flinches.

Spencer’s voice tightens. The only person looking out for my wife that night was a bouncer who happened to know she was the owner’s daughter and my wife. He was the one who made sure she got home safe, not her best friend.” He shakes his head, his voice laced with venom. “He put her in a cab, took photos of the plates, the driver’s license even sent me a text at two in the morning to check if she made it inside.”
He swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly. “The next morning, I sent him and the driver their annual salaries as a thank-you. Because they did what you should’ve done.”

Joss’s eyes brim with shame. “Spencer, I didn’t mean— I can wire you the money.”

“Money?” Spencer snaps, his composure slipping for a second. “You think this is about money? I’d go broke a thousand times over to keep Trina safe.”

His tone hardens again. “I always thought our banter, the jabs, the rivalry was harmless. But now I see the truth. You don’t care about me. You must hate me to go this far, to undermine my marriage, to put my wife in danger.”

“That’s not true,” she whispers. “That wasn’t my intent.”

“Then what was your intent, Joss?” His eyes blaze. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like sabotage.”

She stumbles over her words. “I—I thought if I told Trina about the book, it would… make your marriage stronger.”

Spencer scoffs, shaking his head as he starts to walk away.

“Spencer, wait! Please.”

He stops but doesn’t look at her. “If you’re not going to be honest, then there’s nothing left to talk about.”

Joss’s voice cracks. “Okay! Okay. I missed my best friend.”

Spencer finally faces her, one brow arched. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got. Trina didn’t move to Mars, Joss. This — this isn’t about missing your friend. You’ve been undermining us for a long time, whether you realize it or not.”

He crosses his arms, his stare cutting. “We trusted you. We made you godmother to our children — gave you that title because we thought you’d protect them if something ever happened to us. And this is how you repay us? And you almost became the reason they lost their mother. You’re gonna have to do better than ‘I missed my friend.’"

Joss’s shoulders sag. “I see what you and Trina have, and I want that for myself. I thought… maybe if I spent more time around her, some of that magic would rub off on me.”

Spencer laughs dryly. “Magic? Are you serious? Are you having a blonde moment? You’re too old to believe in fairy dust, Joss.”

He takes a step back, collecting himself, then says, “Look, I get it. My wife is incredible. She’s brilliant. Beautiful. Kind. Beautiful. Strong. Beautiful. Loving. Beautiful,” he smirks dryly, “and did I mention beautiful? The sex is mind-blowing, by the way.”

“Spencer, I get it.” Joss groans, wiping her face.

“No, you don’t.” Spencer’s smile fades. “You’ve known Trina longer than me. If her ‘magic’ hasn’t rubbed off on you by now, it never will. You have to want to change and put in the work.”

He points to his chest. “I worked my ass off to become this man. I’m a Cassadine and fucking up is literally in my DNA. But I fight every single day to be better, for her, for our kids. It wasn’t easy. It almost broke me more than once. I love the man I’ve become, and I can see it reflected in their eyes. Loving them, being worthy of them it’s as natural as breathing.”

Joss’s voice softens. “I see that. You both changed. It’s like you’re living in a different world.”

Spencer’s gaze softens for a beat, then hardens again. “Joss, nothing good is ever going to come to you by tearing other people down. You can’t dismantle my marriage and then expect the universe to hand you a happy ending. And don’t even get me started on Cam. You had something good with him and let it slip right through your fingers. Don’t be a cheater. I don’t believe in magic, but I do believe in karma.”

She chews her lip, swaying nervously. “I know. I was wrong. Now that we’ve cleared the air, can you forgive me?”

Spencer’s eyes harden again. “No, Joss. I can’t.”

Her face crumples. “Spencer, come on. Don’t be petty.”

“This isn’t pettiness,” he says quietly. “It’s protectiveness. You think I’m angry because you were careless? No. I’m angry because you were reckless with the one person I swore to protect at all costs. I can forgive you for being messy, selfish, and immature but not for putting her life on the line.”

She nods, swallowing hard. “I’ll do better. I’ll prove to you and Trina that I can be a real friend.”

“You can try,” he replies coolly. “But don’t waste your breath on me. My mind’s made up.”

Joss lets out a shaky breath. “What about karma? Aren’t you scared of that?”

Spencer smirks bitterly. “Karma? My karma came in the form of Esme. I paid for every sin, twice over. But you know what? It made me better. Stronger. It taught me that love isn’t enough, you have to protect it, guard it like it’s sacred.”

He folds his arms. “So, I go along with these ridiculous scenarios pretending our marriage isn’t rock solid because her best friend thinks it’s entertaining to stir the pot. And every time, it makes Trina question herself, question us, like everything we’ve built could crumble because someone whispered the right lie in her ear. Then I have to patch it all back together, remind her who we are, make sure the kids don’t see the cracks. So, no Joss, you can’t guilt-trip me. I’ve danced with the devil and lived to tell the tale.”

Joss’s voice is small. “I wasn’t trying to guilt you. I’ll back off. Just…can you tell Trina I’m sorry? She wasn’t answering earlier.”

“Her phone was busted, but it should be working now,” he replies coolly. “But I won’t be passing your message along,” he says flatly. “I checked into the Metro Court.”

Panic flashes across her face. “Spencer, no! You can’t leave. I can fix this. Let me talk to her—”

“NO!” His voice is sharp. Final. “You’ve done enough. Stay out of it.”

Her throat tightens. “Are you forbidding our friendship?”

“I can’t tell Trina who to love or who to be friends with. But when it comes to our marriage?” He leans in. “Stay. Out. Of. It.”

He turns, walking away, then glances back over his shoulder one last time. “And until you’ve survived a decade of marriage, raised children, stared down a psychotic ex, and inherited a family curse, don’t ever try to give my wife marital advice again.”

He disappears before she can get another word in.

Chapter Text

***THE PENTHOUSE***

The past few days had been an uphill battle for Trina and the children, an uneasy, painful transition. The house felt different, quieter, heavier. Spencer had been drowning in work, spending late nights at the office, and staying at the Metro Court instead of coming home.

Every night, without fail, he Face-Timed the kids before bed. It had become their new ritual, a bittersweet lifeline connecting them to the father who used to always be there. Chris and Core had been... different. They weren’t loud or mischievous, weren’t bickering over who got the last cookie or who got to hold the remote. No, they were too well-behaved—too careful. As if one wrong move might shatter everything.

Trina noticed.

She noticed the way they tiptoed around the house, their laughter subdued, their movements measured. When she picked them up from school, they did their homework in complete silence, disappearing into their rooms afterward. They only emerged for dinner, barely speaking as they ate, then retreated again. Waiting. Always waiting for his call. And tonight was no different.

Trina lingered outside Chris’ bedroom door, heart hammering in her chest as she listened in.

Spencer’s familiar voice filled the room through the iPad screen. “How was my little minions' day?”

“It was great, Daddy!” Core’s voice was light, eager. “I got a hundred on my math exam! And I made the dance team!”

Spencer chuckled. “That’s my girl. Knew you’d do it.”

But then, her voice wavered, just enough for Trina to notice.

“Daddy… When are you coming home? We miss you.” The air shifted.

Spencer exhaled. “I miss you guys too, Princess. I just have a lot of work to catch up on. It’s easier for me to stay at the hotel, closer to the office.”

A pause.

Then, a quiet, sharp voice from Chris. “You never had to do that before.”

Trina squeezed her eyes shut.

Spencer hesitated, then tried to smooth it over. “I know, buddy. Have you two been good to Mommy?”

The children nodded in unison.

“We haven’t fought once, Daddy,” Core said proudly.

Spencer chuckled. “Well, maybe I should stay away more often if it gets you guys to behave.”

“No, Daddy, no!” Chris' reaction was instant and desperate. His face twisted into something raw, fear, sadness, maybe both. “If we promise never to fight again, will you come home?”

Spencer’s expression softened. “Son… what’s going on?”

Chris shook his head rapidly. “Nothing, Daddy. I just… I don’t want to make Mommy angry.”

Trina pressed a hand against her mouth, her breath catching.

Spencer’s tone softened. “Son, you know Mommy loves you. She loves you both. Mommy wasn’t feeling well that day, that’s all. You don’t need to worry about upsetting her. She won’t bite.” He forced out a chuckle, but the sound was hollow.

Chris wasn’t laughing. “I would feel better if you were here, Daddy.”

“Me too,” Core added in a whisper.

Spencer’s body tensed. He could hear the heartbreak in their voices, the way his absence gnawed at them. And suddenly, he hated himself. Hated that he had let things get this bad. Hated that he had done to his son what his own father had done to him. “Like father, like son.” No. No, he wouldn’t be that man.

“How about this—I’ll push back my morning meeting and take you both to school?”

Core gasped, her face lighting up. “Yeeees! Goodnight, Daddy! Love you!” She smacked a kiss against the iPad screen, then ran through the adjoining bathroom into her room, her small feet thudding lightly against the floor.

Spencer smiled. “Love you more, Princess. Sweet dreams.”

But Chris didn’t move.

Spencer’s chest tightened. “Okay, son. It's just me and you now. What’s wrong?”

A shaky breath. Then, a tear slid down Chris’ cheek.

“Chris, talk to me, son. Why are you crying?”

His son’s voice came out broken, barely above a whisper.

“Daddy… are you and Mommy getting a divorce? Is it my fault?” His lips trembled. “I won’t ask to go to Disneyland ever again. I promise.”

Spencer’s heart cracked clean in half.

“Chris—no, son, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

But it was too late. Chris’ small shoulders shook, his face crumpling. But the floodgates had opened. Chris burst into full-blown sobs. Spencer’s vision blurred, his own tears threatening to fall.

“Chris! Your mom and I aren’t getting a divorce. I swear to you.”

“Then why are you at the hotel?” Chris wiped at his eyes, his voice thick with betrayal. “You’re always home unless you’re traveling. I’m not a baby like Core. You can tell me the truth, Daddy.”

Spencer exhaled sharply.

He rubbed his face, his voice soft. “Chris… you know you’re only three minutes older, right?”

Chris sniffled. “I’m still older, Daddy.”

Spencer let out a weak chuckle. “That you are, my son. That you are.” His voice turned serious again. “I don’t want you to worry your curly little head about me and Mommy. I’ll wrap up work and come home tonight.”

Chris’ breath hitched. “Really?”

Spencer nodded. “Really, son. I’d do anything for you. Family first, right?”

Chris swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes. Family first.”

“Alright then. Get some rest.”

Chris hesitated. “Daddy… are you still taking us to school?”

Spencer smiled. “Of course.”

Chris’ small body sagged with relief. “Yesssss.” He kissed the screen. “Goodnight, Daddy. Love you.”

“Goodnight, Prince. Love you more.”

**************************************************************************************************************

Spencer leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. A wave of melancholy settled over him. He had underestimated how much his absence had weighed on Chris, how deeply his son had internalized everything. “I should have known better.” He hated that Chris thought he was to blame, hated that he had let history repeat itself. His father had chosen distance. He wouldn’t.

He rubbed his temples. “Oh shit, Trina…” he muttered. Would she be okay with him coming home?

“Why shouldn’t she be? I was the injured party.”

Still, that didn’t mean things would be simple. But one thing was clear staying away wasn’t helping. He needed to go home. He needed to fix this.

Spencer decided to stay one more hour at work, then check out of the hotel. He would sleep in the guest room, wake up early before the kids noticed, and take them to school. He couldn’t believe that things got this complicated. But one thing was clear he needed to go home.

Tonight.

****************************************************************************************************************

Outside Chris’ door, Trina stood frozen. Tears streamed down her face.

Her son thought she was a monster.

The pain in his voice, the guilt in his words it crushed her.

She stumbled back into her bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. “I can’t believe my foolishness caused my kids and my husband pain.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “My kids deserve better… and so does my husband.”

Then it hit her. “Spencer is coming home.”

A soft, involuntary smile tugged at her lips. Her stomach fluttered.

But the warmth faded just as quickly as doubt crept in. “Is he coming back for me… or just for them?”

She swallowed hard. “Can he ever forgive me? Can I even forgive myself?”

She let out a slow, exhausted breath, then got up.

Walking to her wardrobe, she hesitated before pulling out a midnight blue, floral-embroidered mesh and satin cami negligee with a matching robe.

“This should work,” she murmured, running her fingers over the delicate fabric.

Hope. Guilt. Longing.

“Step one—get my husband back.” And with that, she disappeared into their bathroom suite, ready to fight for what was hers.

**************************************************************************************************************

Trina lay in bed; eyes locked on the glowing screen of her phone as the minutes crawled by. The weight of anticipation pressed against her chest, thick and heady like the perfume she’d carefully chosen Spencer’s favorite. Her skin was smooth, shaven to perfection, and the silky negligee she wore clung to every curve, barely skimming her thighs. She tossed and turned, shifting positions, searching for the perfect angle, the perfect reveal, for when he walked through the door.

If he walked through the door. The thought sliced through her excitement like a blade. “What if he doesn’t come to our bedroom?” Her stomach twisted.

No. That wasn’t an option. A new plan started forming in her mind when.

A sound. Downstairs.

A rustling. A shuffle. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, the blood in her veins turning electric. “He’s here.” She sat up instantly, gripping the sheets. Then, just as quickly, she knew what she had to do.

Without hesitation, Trina slipped out of bed, leaving the robe behind there was no point covering up now. She grabbed the closest thing that could serve as a weapon, a can of hair sheen and with her free hand, she dialed Spencer, praying he would pick up.

Two rings. Then…

“Hello, Trina…”

His voice was deep, tired, but still sent a shiver down her spine. She stepped carefully into the hallway, keeping her voice low and urgent.

“Spencer, I think someone broke into the house,” she whispered, gripping the can tighter. “I’m going to check it out now. I just needed to call you first. Call the cops.”

“Trina, wait—”

She hung up before he could protest.

Barefoot and determined, she moved methodically through the house, her pulse roaring in her ears. The light in Spencer’s office was on.

A shadow moved inside. Her grip tightened around the can.

Showtime.

Just as she reached the threshold, the door swung open—

Trina reacted instinctively, swinging her arm with force.

Strong hands caught her wrist in midair, the impact spinning her slightly. Her balance faltered, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as she tumbled forward. And right into Spencer’s chest.

The world stopped for a beat. The warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne rich, deep, familiar engulfed her senses. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt, the heat radiating from him searing into her skin.

“Trina, it's me. Baby, it’s me.”

Her breath hitched. She blinked up at him, disoriented, her chest rising and falling against his own.

“Spencer?” she breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

The tension snapped like a stretched rubber band. She shoved him hard. “What the hell are you doing sneaking around like that? I could have hurt you!”

His lips twitched, gaze dropping to her so-called weapon. “Were you planning on giving the burglar a makeover?” He arched a brow, teasing her.

Her pulse was still erratic, but the humor in his voice sent a thrill through her. “Ha ha, very funny, Spencer.”

Without thinking, she swatted his chest, her palm lingering there longer than necessary. The warmth of his body seeped through his shirt, his muscles tensed beneath her fingertips, and her breath hitched. Time seemed to pause.

The air between them thickened, crackling with something unspoken, something dangerous. Spencer cleared his throat, shifting slightly. She swallowed and slowly withdrew her hand, forcing herself to straighten.

“Hey, this is a dangerous weapon,” she teased, holding up the can. “I could’ve taken your eyes out with a single spray.”

His gaze swept over her, dark and deliberate. “The only thing that’s going to take someone’s eyes out,” he murmured, “is that little negligee.”

Heat bloomed across her skin as his fingers danced across her shoulder, playing with the thin spaghetti strap, sliding it down her shoulder in a slow, agonizing motion.

He inhaled, his voice dropping lower. “You smell exceptional. Almost like… you were waiting for me.”

Her pupils dilated, her breath coming in short, shallow waves.

Spencer held her gaze for a moment longer, just long enough for her to think he might do something reckless.

Then, just as smoothly, he slid the strap back onto her shoulder. And walked away.

Her knees nearly gave out. She stumbled back, catching herself on the armrest of the sofa, pressing her thighs together as a familiar, throbbing, aching need pulsed through her.

She exhaled sharply, her mind racing. “God, why is that man so damn sexy?”

She barely registered the sound of his footsteps disappearing down the hall, the soft click of the guest bedroom door closing behind him.

Her body was still humming, still reacting to his presence.

But no. This wasn’t over.

With renewed determination, she turned, head held high, her hips swaying with intent as she made her way back to their bedroom.

Behind the closed door, she flopped onto the bed, a slow, satisfied smile curving her lips.

Operation Get My Husband Back was officially in full swing.

Chapter Text

THE PENTHOUSE

The next morning, the house was alive again filled with laughter, footsteps, and the unmistakable sound of joy. Spencer was home, and the kids were overjoyed.

Trina stood quietly on the upstairs landing, one hand resting on the banister, a soft smile playing on her lips as she looked down at the scene below. For the first time in what felt like forever, their family was whole again.

“Daddy, can we pick up donuts on the way to school?” Core asked, practically bouncing where he stood.

“You don’t need any more sugar,” Chris muttered, not even looking up.

“Shut up, Chris.”

“Make me shut up.”

Spencer raised a brow and stepped in before it could escalate. “What happened to that truce you guys swore you made? Maybe I should disappear more often. It’s the only time you two act like you love each other.” He chuckled, trying to keep it light.

Chris stiffened. Core glanced between them, suddenly unsure.

“No, Daddy, we’ll behave. Right, Core?” Chris said quickly, a nervous edge to his voice.

Trina's smile faded slightly as she watched from above. Spencer saw it too. He crouched to Chris’s level, softening.

“Hey… that was a bad joke, son. I’m sorry. Okay? You forgive me?”

Chris didn’t answer. He simply stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Spencer’s neck. Quiet. Still. And for a moment, Spencer felt his heart crack open.

Chris finally pulled back but kept hold of Spencer’s hand, gripping it like a lifeline.

“You okay, Prince?”

Chris gave a small nod.

Spencer turned toward Core, changing the mood. “Now you—you’ve got enough energy to light up the whole city. That’s a no on the donuts, kiddo.”

“Daddy, I’m just happy you’re home, that’s all.” Core beamed.

“Me too,” Chris added softly.

From the stairs, Trina added with a grin, “Me three.”

She descended gracefully, dressed in a form-fitting red sleeveless Chanel midi dress, paired with sleek black patent leather stiletto Louboutin's that clicked against the marble with each step.

Spencer’s eyes followed her, brows lifting. “Are you headed to work or walking a runway?”

She laughed and did a slow twirl. “I’ve got a meeting with the new hotel downtown—The Renaissance. Hoping they’ll pick up a few of my pieces. You like?”

As she spun, Spencer’s breath caught. The dress hugged her body like a second skin, and he couldn’t help but notice the clean lines, the lack of seams… or anything else. A low growl slipped out before he could catch it, and he blinked, quickly pulling himself together.

It was Core tugging on his arm that grounded him again.

“Let’s have fruit instead of donuts,” Spencer suggested. “You can put them in pancakes. Or waffles. Or crepes!”

“Umm… how about a parfait?” Core asked, eyes wide with hope.

Spencer cleared his throat. “Now that is a genius compromise.”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head in mock surrender. “Always negotiating. I respect the hustle. It wasn’t on the list, but you got it. Wish granted.”

Core threw his hands in the air with a cheer, and he hurried to grab their backpacks.

“Go give Mommy a kiss goodbye,” Spencer reminded.

The kids rushed over to Trina, wrapping her in warm hugs and peppering her cheeks with kisses.

“Love you, my babies,” she whispered, holding onto the moment just a little longer.

As they pulled away, Spencer glanced at her. “You able to do pick-up? I’ll be home late.”

She gave a silent nod, managing a small smile. “Of course.”

The door closed behind them.

For a beat, Trina just stood there. No kiss. No “I love you.” Not even a look back. A hollow ache bloomed in her chest. But she wouldn’t let it swallow her. No, not today. She’d seen it—that look in Spencer’s eyes before he left. There was still something there. She wasn’t out of the game yet.

******************************************************************************************************************

Later that night, the penthouse was quiet. Too quiet.

Spencer returned home late, missing bedtime by hours. He showered quickly, then padded into his office, intent on finishing what was left of his workday. His mind was racing, his body exhausted, but he was trying...trying to keep everything together.

Upstairs, a soft whimper broke the stillness. Chris thrashed under his blanket, caught in a nightmare. In seconds, he was up, breath ragged, feet pounding toward his parents’ bedroom.

“Chris?” Trina sat up as the door burst open. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

But he didn’t answer. He spun on his heel and bolted out, disappearing down the dark hallway and stairs.

“Chris!” Trina threw back the covers and followed.

“Daddy… Daddy?” Chris called out, panic rising as he checked each room in the shadows.

Spencer heard the commotion and stepped out of his office. The moment Chris saw him; he launched into his arms.

“Daddy, you were gone!” he sobbed, clinging to Spencer like he’d vanish again if he let go.

Trina reached the bottom of the stairs just as Chris broke down. Tears welled in her own eyes at the sight of her son in Spencer’s arms.

Spencer glanced at her, the weight of it all sinking in, then quietly turned and carried Chris into his office.

He sat in his desk chair and settled Chris onto his lap, gently brushing tears from his cheeks.

“Hey, Prince… that was just a bad dream,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

Chris sniffled, still clinging tightly. “I’m sorry I got home so late. You know sometimes work keeps Daddy out late. Can you tell me why it scared you so much tonight?”

Spencer wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back in slow, calming circles. Silence. Spencer continues. “You know I go away for business trips, sometimes for weeks, and I always come back.”

Chris took a shaky breath. “It felt different, Daddy.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed gently. “What made it feel that way, hmm?”

Chris’s voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible. “When you were gone… it felt like you weren’t gonna come back.”

Tears sprang fresh in his eyes and Trina’s too, who stood in the doorway, a silent witness to her son’s heartbreak.

Then came the question that cracked the silence like thunder.

“Daddy… are you and Mommy getting a divorce?”

Trina gasped. Spencer looked up, stunned, locking eyes with her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, just two hearts breaking in the same room, for different reasons. Spencer wipes his tears. “Chris, I told you that your mom and I are not getting divorce. Ok?”

“Really, Daddy? You and Mommy… you’re acting different.”

Spencer tilted his head, one brow lifting. “Different how?”

Chris hesitated, searching for the right words. “You used to always kiss. It was gross but you were laughing all the time. You looked happy. And now…” His voice faded into a whisper.

Spencer leaned in gently. “And now… we look miserable?” He finished for him, his gaze flickering toward the doorway where Trina stood.

Chris gave a small, reluctant nod.

Spencer sighed and leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face. “Well… I thought we were doing a good job hiding it.”

Chris shook his head—no hesitation this time.

“Does your sister know?”

Chris gave a half-shrug, uncertain.

Spencer took a moment, weighing his words carefully. “Your parents are human, son. We argue sometimes. We don’t always agree, and lately… yeah, we’ve been struggling to find a way forward that makes us both happy. But that doesn’t mean we don’t love each other. And it doesn’t mean we’re getting a divorce.”

He pressed two fingers to his heart. “Cross my heart and stick a needle in my eye. We’re not going anywhere. Okay?”

Chris nodded slowly, eyes wide. “Okay, Daddy. But… you’ll never leave me, right?”

Spencer cupped his son's face gently. “Never, Prince. I will never leave you. I’m sorry I made you feel like I would. I love you, more than anything.” He pulled him in for a tight hug and kissed the top of his head.

“I love you too, Daddy. I’m not leaving either.”

Spencer chuckled softly. “Glad to hear it. So… are you ready for bed now?”

Chris shook his head, curling tighter into Spencer’s chest. “No.”

“Wanna watch some TV?” Another shake.

“Can we just stay here? What are you doing?”

Her footsteps were slow, almost hesitant, as if the air itself had thickened with guilt. The weight pressing on her chest felt impossible to carry. How had it come to this? Her son, her sweet, sensitive boy crying out in the night, searching rooms in the dark, terrified that his family was falling apart.

And maybe… it was.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to hold herself together. Had she been so consumed by her own pain, her own pride, that she didn’t see how deeply it was affecting him? The silence, the tension, the quiet war she and Spencer had been waging in glances and half-finished sentences, Chris had absorbed it all.

The guilt cut sharp and deep.

By the time she reached the bedroom, her body felt like lead. She lay down on top of the covers, too numb to move, her cries too heavy. The only thing heavier than her limbs was her heart.

I never meant to hurt him… she thought, as her eyes slowly drifted shut.

Spencer smiled. “Yeah, we can stay.” He tapped the computer screen and pulled Chris onto his lap again. “I’m working on a deal. There’s a company developing gliders.”

Chris’s eyes lit up. “Like the one in Spider-Man?”

Spencer laughed. “Exactly like that. Daddy wants to buy the company, but they don’t want to sell. So, I’ve got to figure out a creative way to… let’s say, acquire it.”

Chris grinned. “You have to do it, Daddy! Then we can name the glider after me! And then… flying cars!”

He erupted into giggles, his joy filling the room like sunlight.

Spencer watched him, heart full. That laughter the unfiltered kind only a child could produce was worth more than any deal. This was his legacy, right here on his lap. Eventually, Chris drifted off mid-sentence, head resting against his father’s chest.

Spencer carried him to bed, tucking him in with careful hands and a full heart.

When he returned to the master bedroom, he found Trina fast asleep, curled on top of the comforter, dried tear stains on her cheeks. The sight of her like that vulnerable, worn down, hit him harder than he expected.

Quietly, he lifted her into his arms and pulled back the sheets. She stirred but didn’t wake as he gently laid her down and tucked the blanket around her.

He lingered for a moment, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Then, without a word, he turned and headed to the guest room downstairs, the weight of the night still heavy on his shoulders.

Chapter Text

THE PENTHOUSE

The next morning, before the kids had come downstairs, Trina quietly entered the kitchen. She paused in the doorway, watching Spencer move around the space with a calm ease as he brewed a pot of coffee. There was a comfort knowing he is home.

She slid onto a stool at the island, drawing his attention. Without a word, Spencer poured her a mug, set it gently in front of her, and gave her a small, tired smile. "Thank you," she said softly, taking a sip. The warmth of the coffee didn’t quite reach the knot in her stomach. "I guess we need to talk about the elephant in the room."

Spencer nodded, his voice low but steady. "Yeah... I guess we do."

Before either of them could say more, the sound of racing footsteps echoed down the hall like a stampede.

"Good morning, Mommy! Good morning, Daddy!" the twins sang in unison as they burst into the kitchen.

Chris flung his arms around Spencer’s waist. "Mine!" he declared.

Core barreled in behind him and shoved him lightly. "No, my daddy!"

Chris dug in. "He was mine first!"

Core stuck her tongue out. "He’ll be mine last!"

Trina blinked, half amused, half exasperated. She pushed back from the island and stood up. "Well... clearly, I'm not needed here." She turned and walked out, the corners of her mouth twitching in a smile she didn’t quite let them see.

*****************************************************************************************************************

Later that evening, Trina lounged on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, a bowl of Cheetos nestled in her lap. She wore nothing but Spencer’s oversized white t-shirt, her curls piled into a carefree, messy bun. The soft glow of the TV flickered across her face as Family Matters played, her laughter bubbling up when Urkel squealed his iconic line, “Did I do that?”

The house was unusually quiet the kids had eagerly traded family night for a weekend at Pau Pau’s. For once, the place felt like theirs and theirs alone.

Suddenly, the rhythmic thump of footsteps descending the stairs caught her attention. She turned her head and paused.

Spencer emerged, dressed like a man on a mission. Head to toe in black: a Louis Vuitton short-sleeve utility leather shirt, tailored black jeans, and gleaming Versace loafers. His glasses framed his sharp jawline, and the gold accents of his Vacheron Constantin watch glinted under the soft lighting. He looked like trouble, and he knew it.

“Trina, have you seen my car keys?”

But she didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She was too busy taking him in, mouth slightly open, gaze trailing him like a slow-motion camera shot.

“Trina!” he repeated, snapping her out of her trance.

She rose and padded over to him, smirking as she wiped the telltale orange Cheetos dust from her fingers onto the hem of his pristine white t-shirt. “Oops. Sorry. What were you saying?”

“My car keys.”

She cocked her head. “Aren’t they in the foyer desk drawer?”

“Not those. I’m looking for the keys to the Aston Martin.”

Her brow furrowed. “The Aston? Why would you need that one? Where are you going?”

“The office,” he replied curtly, snapping his fingers as if summoning the answer himself, then brushing past her toward his office

Trina watched him disappear, unease creeping in like a draft.

He returned moments later, dangling the key fob with a triumphant jingle. “Got it.”

He was almost at the front door when Trina trails behind him, her voice firmer this time.

“You didn’t say where you were going?” Trina asked, voice light but laced with something heavier.

Spencer turned back briefly, hand on the doorknob. “Cam’s playing a gig tonight. Thought I’d show him some support.”

“Oh, that’s great.” She perked up slightly, hopeful. “Just give me thirty minutes, I’ll throw something on and—”

He gently caught her arm, halting her. “That won’t be necessary.” His voice was calm, even measured. “It’s guys’ night out. You understand… right?”

She nodded automatically, a polite smile frozen on her face. But inside, the air left her lungs. He released her without another word and stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him like the punctuation mark at the end of a sentence.

Trina slowly drifted back to the couch, the sound of his absence louder than anything on TV. She stared at the screen, but Steve Urkel’s antics no longer sparked laughter. Not when her kids had chosen their grandfather over her. Not when her husband... her husband would rather be anywhere but home on a night meant for the family.

She curled her legs under her, reaching for the remote but not pressing a button. The silence wrapped around her like a heavy coat. Then, as if out of nowhere, a cold wave of clarity washed over her. Damn, Spencer had looked fine tonight like he’d stepped out of a designer ad. That leather shirt, those glasses, that car... She knew exactly what kind of attention that Aston Martin pulled. Women would salivate. Hell, some men too.

Without another thought, she grabbed her phone.

Two rings. Then, “hey T, I… I’m so glad to hear from you. I tried calling—”

“Joss, I don’t have time for this,” Trina cut in, sharp and direct.

“…Okay. What’s going on?” Joss asked, caught off guard.

“Do you know where Cam is performing tonight?”

“I think… The Savoy. Why?”

“I need to get down there before I lose my husband for good. Be ready in forty-five minutes.”

“Trina, I’m really not in the mood to go clubbing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you think you had a choice?” Trina’s tone turned ice-cold. “See, you started this mess, and now you’re going to help me finish it. Or so help me God, Joss, I will pluck every blonde and non-blonde hair out of your scalp one by one. My man walked out of here looking like sex on legs and I’m going to get him back.”

Dead silence.

Then Joss said, breathless, “…I’ll be ready in forty-five.”

“Make it thirty.” Trina hung up.

Chapter Text

THE SAVOY

The Savoy was packed, alive with sweat, rhythm, and raw energy. The crowd was still buzzing from the electric set just delivered by Cam and his band, The Runarounds. Applause thundered, screams pierced the air, and panties sailed through the strobe lights, landing like trophies on the edge of the stage.

At the bar, Spencer sat alone, nursing a scotch neat, his expression unreadable in the pulsing light. Cam approached, breathless, beaming, guitar pick still tucked behind his ear. “Hey, man! You good?” asked Cam, raising his voice over the music.

“I’m good, rockstar. You crushed it.” Spencer beams, genuinely proud of his cousin’s musical talent.

Spencer lifts his glass, then signals to Nneka behind the bar. She nods, already knowing. “Drinks are on me tonight for the band.”

Cam gives him a grateful nod. As the band dawdles over to place their orders, a herd of starstruck groupies flocks behind them, phones out, Sharpies ready. Among them, a striking redhead elbows her way to the front. Her name is Amber a walking fire alarm in a jewel-green spaghetti strap dress that clung like a second skin. Black strappy pumps. Wonderbra doing overtime.

Cam and the band grins wickedly. “Hey, ladies meet our manager, said Cam.” He gestures to Spencer, whose eyes go wide as Amber zeroes in like a missile.

“Can I get your autograph?” asked Amber.

She lets one strap fall, exposing the top curve of her breast. Spencer hesitates but not for long. He leans in to sign, pen grazing skin.

And that’s exactly when Trina and Joss descend the stairs, their heels clicking like a time bomb ready to explode.

Trina halts, eyes narrowing. She’s a vision in a draped bronze satin mini dress, backless and dangerous, her high ponytail bouncing with every sharp breath. Stiletto heels. Chandelier earrings. Sun-kissed skin that glows under the lights.

Beside her, Joss stares, wide-eyed and incredulous, in a shimmering light blue sequin bodycon dress, silver platform sandals, and a matching purse swinging with tension.

Trina froze. “What the hell is going on?”

“Girl, he better be signing her a cease and desist,” said Joss.

The DJ shifts gears. A sultry Latin beat pulses through the room, followed by the sensual strum of guitars. Camila Cabello's voice slinks into the air, teasing every inch of the dance floor. Then Shawn Mendes joins her in “Señorita.”

Amber grabs Spencer’s arm, a spark in her eyes. “This is my song. Come dance with me.” She pulls him into the crowd before he can object. The floor swallows them up. Amber spins, hips swaying like a pendulum of seduction. She circles Spencer slowly, deliberately, her eyes locked on him like a challenge.

Trina’s jaw clenches. Her eyes, once warm, now flash cold steel as she watches Spencer get led away by Amber like a prize at an auction. Her fists curl around her clutch as her breath grows shallow. “Is he really doing this right now?”

Joss shoots her a side glance; her expression caught between disbelief and protective rage.

Trina’s eyes follow Spencer and Amber as they disappear deeper into the dance floor fog. The crowd pulses around them, laughing, grinding, losing themselves in the beat. But Trina sees only him laughing. Smiling. Watching Amber like he’s never seen a redhead before.

Joss grabs her arm gently, trying to reel her in. “You don’t have to make a scene. Yet.”

“I’m not making a scene.” A beat. “But I am going to make sure he knows exactly how I feel about this little performance.”

Trina moves down the stairs with purpose, poised, powerful, and pulsing with hurt. She glides through the crowd like a blade through silk, the bronze of her dress catching the lights as she moves.

Spencer, caught between the pull of music and the sting of Trina’s gaze.

Joss hesitates at the top of the stairs, watching her best friend descend into a powder keg of pride, passion, and betrayal. “And the Oscar goes to... dumbass Spencer Cassadine.” Joss mutters.

Trina had seen enough. Whatever bootleg version of Save the Last Dance was playing out before her, it was over. Amber’s hips, Spencer’s silence, it hit her like eating bad Thai food. But tonight, Trina wasn’t here for drama. She was here for clarity. And Joss? She was locked in, ride-or-die, her eyes scanning the floor like a lion ready to pounce. Trina tapped Amber on the shoulder, her voice even but laced with steel.

Amber turned, brows raised, and lips curled in irritation. “May, I cut in,” said Trina smoothly.

Amber scoffs. “Yeah, no. I’ve got this covered.” She spun back to Spencer, still swaying, her hand trailing down his chest like she owned the moment. Spencer said nothing eyes flicking to the floor, too quiet, too still.

Trina exhaled slowly, the kind of breath you take before you walk into battle. She handed her purse to Joss, who took it like a sword in a sheath, stepping just slightly closer in case things went left. Trina tapped Amber again, firmer this time.

Amber turns agitated. “Okay, what is your problem?”

Trina smiled, but her eyes were daggers, sharp, precise, and cold. “I’m just trying to have a quick word... with my husband. The smile never reached her eyes, but the message was loud and clear.

Amber blinked, stunned but not silent. She begins to snicker. "Look ma’am, if he’s your husband, sweetie... then maybe he doesn’t want to be yours tonight.”

That landed like a slap in the face, and for a split second, the tension felt combustible. But before Trina could respond, Spencer finally stepped back. Not a word—just a quiet, retreating glance as he peeled himself from the dance floor and headed toward the bar.

Amber huffed and rolled her eyes, dancing solo now, the moment had soured.

Joss slid next to Trina, lips tight. “You want me to trip her? I’ll trip her.”

Trina shakes her head. She’s not the problem at least not yet. Trina stood still for a moment, heels planted, back straight, eyes locked on her husband like a storm waiting to break. They both watched as Spencer took a seat at the bar, having a drink as is nothing had happened. Cam soon joined him, fresh off his own dance with a hot brunette, throwing Spencer a look like, what happened?

Then Trina blinked, her head whipping slightly toward Joss as the last insult replayed in her mind. “Did she just call me ma’am?”

Joss snorted, lips twitching with disbelief. Before she could answer, Amber’s equally annoying sidekick, Kelley appeared, sensing drama like a shark in open water.

Just then, Miguel and Aaron entered The Savoy, eyes scanning until they landed on Trina and Joss.

Chapter Text

THE SAVOY

“Hey Joss, it’s been a minute. Can we talk?” A smiling Aaron greeted.

“Not right now, Aaron. Maybe call me later?”

“C’mon, we’re both here. Why wait?”

“I’m here with Trina. It’s not a good time.”

Aaron grabbed her hand. “You can still keep an eye on her. We’ll just be over there.” He tugs her gently but insistently toward a quiet corner, and Joss glances back at Trina, torn.

Meanwhile, Miguel steps in with the confidence of someone who thought he still had a shot. “Hey Trina. You look amazing tonight.”

“I’m sorry... do I know you?”

“It’s Miguel. We met here a while back? I texted, but never heard back...”

Trina's polite mask hardens. “Right. That night’s a blur. If I gave you the wrong impression, I apologize. But I’m happily married. My husband’s right over there.” She gestures subtly toward the bar.

Spencer, swivels slightly on the barstool. He squints at the interaction, body tense but he can’t make out the words. He watches Trina with Miguel... Cam beside him, eyes narrowing too. “Is that the guy who sent her those texts?”

Spencer shrugs, watching. Trina catches Spencer’s gaze for a moment but then he turns back to his drink without a word. The disappointment hits her like a gut punch.

“If that’s your husband, he’s not doing a great job showing it,” said Miguel a little too smoothly.

Before Trina can answer, Amber storms back over, venom practically dripping from her glossed lips. “Wow. You really have some nerve coming at me like that—when you’re the one causing the drama. No wonder your husband’s out here auditioning replacements.”

Trina’s composure cracks, her eyes flaring. She steps forward. “Excuse me? You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, so do yourself a favor and stay out of grown folks’ business, little girl.”

Amber flinches, clearly not expecting such fire but held her ground with Kelley by her side.

Across the room, Joss tries to pull away. “Aaron, I need to get back to Trina. She has company.”

“She’s fine. Miguel is there and he’s a decent guy.”

“Miguel needs to worry about Trina’s husband and his cousin standing at the bar watching all this go down.”

Aaron follows her gaze, swallows hard, then rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

Back on the floor, Miguel leans in, voice low and smug. “I don’t think your husband would mind... Since he doesn’t seem to care enough to defend you.”

Trina doesn’t flinch. But her eyes flick back to the bar, where Spencer still sits, unmoving, his silence louder than anything Amber or Miguel could ever say.

Cam watched the exchange between Miguel and Trina from across the room, his jaw tightening and fuming. “Oh hell no.”

He slammed his drink down and made a move toward them, but Spencer caught his arm mid-step, eyes locked on Miguel like a hunter who’d already pulled the trigger.

“Easy, Cam,” Spencer says coolly.

Cam turns to him. “Easy? Dude, that clown is pushing up on your wife. You’re just gonna sit here and sip scotch?”

Spencer slowly swirled his drink, then spoke in a low, almost amused tone each word deliberate, razor-sharp. “Miguel Alvarez. Hedge fund manager at Vision Investments a multinational, diversified company across seven markets. Five-ten, one seventy-two. Resides at 375 Pine Lane, White Plains, N.Y. Parents: Antonio and Carmen Alvarez. Social Security number 100-12-1234.”

Cam blinked. Spencer continued, voice like silk over ice. “Comes to Port Charles most weekends to visit his buddy, Aaron Thomas.” Then leans in slightly. “Come Monday, right around lunch Miguel Alvarez will be escorted out of his office in front of his entire team. Two security guards, one HR rep, and a folder full of evidence.” A beat. “Turns out, our hedge fund Casanova been funneling money into a hidden offshore account in the Caymans. Sloppy work. Easily traced.”

He leaned in closer to Cam, voice dropping to a confidential whisper, his lips curling with a quiet, dangerous amusement. “Shh... don’t tell anyone.” Then he let out a low, cold chuckle like a man who'd already read the final chapter and knew it wouldn’t end well for Miguel.

“Did you just… rattle off this dude’s entire dossier?” ask Cam.

Spencer gave the faintest shrug, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips as he took a sip. “Let’s just say I make it a point to know exactly who’s breathing the same air as my wife.”

Cam shakes his head, both impressed and alarmed. “Man… poor fool. God help anyone who ever hits on Trina.”

“God has nothing to do with it. It’s all Cassadine.”

They clink glasses once more and downed their drinks. Spencer, eyes once again locked on Miguel from afar. Cam looked at him the way someone would watch a shark glide past a flailing swimmer, calm, calculated, and terrifying.

*****************************************************************************************************************

“Little girl? Little girl?” Amber taunted, leaning in with a smug grin. “Don’t get mad just because your husband trading up for a newer, younger model.”

She and Kelley high-fived like schoolyard bullies, laughing right in Trina’s face.

Trina didn’t flinch. Her silence said more than words ever could.

“Miguel, you need to go,” Trina said, her voice low and controlled. “Nothing is ever going to happen between us. And I’ve got a situation to handle.”

Miguel hesitated. “You sure? I think you and I could be something real.”

She didn’t even look at him—just gave a firm nod, eyes locked on Amber.

Miguel finally took the hint and left, but not before glancing at Amber. She didn’t notice. She was too busy laughing.

She had no idea she was seconds away from a serious problem. Big mistake.

“Aaron, I’ve got to go,” Joss said urgently. “Things are getting heated, and people are starting to record. I need to get back before Trina takes off her earrings.”

Cam looked over, eyes widening as he caught the tension across the room. “Dude, you’re not even a little worried about what Trina might do to that girl?”

Spencer shrugged, completely unfazed. “She’s fighting for our love. I’ll allow it.”

Cam blinked. “You’re not worried about lawsuits? Tabloids? This blowing up everywhere?”

Spencer didn’t miss a beat. “Amber might sue. She’ll expect a huge payday. Her lawyers will throw out some ridiculous number, we’ll settle for a fraction, feed the press a distraction, and poof, it’s gone.”

Cam shook his head, both impressed and mildly concerned. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t your first time watching Trina throw hands?”

Spencer gave another calm shrug. “There are a lot of sides to Trina. What you’ve seen? Barely scratches the surface.”

Cam raised a brow, amused.

“The worst damage she ever inflicted was Esme,” he said, slipping into memory. “Man… Trina went upside Esme’s head with a wrench. No hesitation. Then she stood there and said, ‘Let her bleed.’” He let out a nostalgic chuckle. “At that point, that solidified she was the one. But these days? As long as she’s not taking off her earrings, we’re good.”

He shrugged casually. “Hey, Nneka—let me get a Perrier.”

Across the room, Trina’s voice cut clean and cold. “I came here to address my husband. But since you don’t know how to stay in a child’s place,” she said, eyes locked on Amber, “Say one more thing about my marriage and I swear to God—”

“Oh, you wanna act crazy now?” Amber snapped, her voice shrill. “In front of all these people?”

Trina stepped forward, voice low but cutting. “I’ve stayed quiet out of kindness. But you clearly thought my silence meant weakness. It doesn’t.”

Joss’s eyes widened. “Oh shit,” she blurted, breaking free of Aaron’s grip. “Trina’s taking off her earrings!”

Cam smacked Spencer’s shoulder. “Dude. Trina is taking off her earrings.”

Spencer calmly downed the rest of his water, then turned to Nneka. “Put the tab on my card on file,” he said, sliding two crisp hundreds across the bar. “And that’s for the trouble.”

Kelley tried to step between them. “You’re doing too much—”

“Shut the hell up, over there laughing. You can catch some of this smoke,” said Trina.

The crowd murmured phones still up, angles being adjusted, whispers of ‘Oh she told her,’ rippled through the room.

Amber lunged.

Big mistake. Joss was already moving, slipping between them like a pro. “Nope. Uh-uh. Not today.”

Trina moved fast, winding up. Her fist was already mid-air, aimed straight for Amber’s face until Spencer swooped in and lifted her clean off the ground, throwing her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

“Put me down!” Trina yelled, thrashing against him. Her fists pounded against his back, but he held her firm, one hand gripping her thighs, the other keeping her dress from riding up.

The crowd gasped, phones still recording.

Joss exhaled. “Well. That was... public.”

Cam blinked. “She’s gonna go viral by midnight.”

Chapter Text

EASE ON DOWN THE ROAD

Outside, Spencer gave a subtle nod to the bouncer and valet. No words needed. They moved fast.

“Spencer,” Trina growled, still squirming, “put me down. People are watching.”

The valet pulled up, opening the passenger door. Spencer gently set her down into the seat like she was made of glass.

“Seat belt,” he said flatly.

Then he shut the door, tipped the valet, and slid into the driver’s seat. The car peeled away from the curb, disappearing into the night.

The ride home was thick with tension, a silence so heavy it could smother. The city outside sparkled in blissful contrast, skyscrapers kissed by moonlight, neon signs flickering like lazy fireflies, the streets humming with life. But inside the sleek silver car, none of that beauty mattered.

Trina sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly, her jaw clenched as she stared straight ahead. She hadn’t looked at Spencer since they got in. She refused to. Not after what she’d seen.

Spencer, of course, was unbothered. His gaze drifted from the road to her profile, a chuckle rumbling from his chest like he couldn’t help himself.

She turned toward him with narrowed eyes, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. “What’s so funny?” she snapped.

“You, still mad?” he said smoothly, smirking as he casually placed a hand on her knee.

“Still breathing, aren’t I?” She slapped it away with enough force to make a point. That only made him laugh harder. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed. “Not after you were all over that skank.”

“Touchy, touchy,” he teased, grin never fading. “One might think you’re jealous, Mrs. Cassadine.”

His hand returned to her knee, this time gliding up her thigh with deliberate slowness. Trina’s breath hitched as his fingers slipped beneath her dress, brushing the edge of her silk underwear. She grabbed his wrist in protest, but it was half-hearted, her body betraying her as her thighs parted slightly, inviting more of his touch. She shifted in her seat, angling for more pressure.

He felt the heat pooling between her legs and then, just as quickly, he pulled his hand away.

“You’re right,” he said, voice cool and maddeningly detached. “I shouldn't put my hands where they’re not wanted.”

“God!” Trina growled, trembling with a mix of desire and anger. “You think you’re so damn clever. You like toying with me. What if I did the same to you, huh? You wouldn’t like it so much then.”

Spencer kept one hand on the wheel, effortlessly calm, that damn smirk still tugging at his lips.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I won’t stop you.”

Without hesitation, Trina hand slid across the center console slow, calculating. Her fingers brushed his thigh, teasingly light. Spencer’s breath caught for just a second. She leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You’re so cocky,” she whispered, “but I wonder how steady you’d be if I slipped my mouth a little lower.”

“You know,” he said, voice low and amused, “I could pull over. Or take the back road home. Unless you’re feeling adventurous and want to keep it on the main road.”

He winked.

Trina recoiled, yanking her hand away, annoyed that he seemed so unaffected and more annoyed that she was the one getting all hot and bothered.

“Forget it,” she said coldly. “I won’t be going anywhere near you again.”

“Aww, what happened to the baby?” he asked mockingly, lips curled in a pout.

“I’m glad this is all a joke to you,” she snapped. “You had your hands all over another woman. You signed her breast, Spencer. Are you actually serious right now? That’s beyond disrespectful to me, and to our marriage. Your little girlfriend must’ve thought it was romantic.”

Spencer sighed, the smirk fading just enough for his voice to level.

“Trina, I’m a multi-billionaire. Part inheritance, part strategy. I didn’t get here by being stupid. My signature has power; it creates or destroys. You really think I’d scrawl my legal name across some woman’s breast?”

He glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“I signed ‘Scooby-Doo.’”

He shrugged like it was no big deal.

Trina blinked at him, caught between rage and bewilderment, while the car sliced through the night, its engine humming a low, steady growl. Just like the storm between them, waiting to explode.

Trina stared at him; her mouth parted in disbelief.

“You… signed Scooby-Doo?” she repeated, as if saying it aloud might make it sound less insane.

Spencer didn’t answer right away. He just kept driving, eyes on the road, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rested casually on the gearshift like he hadn’t just set fire to her emotions and walked away.

“You're unbelievable,” she muttered, turning back to the window. Her reflection glared back at her, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with fury.

“And you’re beautiful when you’re mad,” he said under his breath.

She whipped her head toward him. “Don’t. Don't try to smooth this over with compliments and charm.

Spencer released a weary sigh. “Don’t ever say I didn’t try.” The rest of the drive home passed in heavy, unspoken silence.

Chapter Text

THE PENTHOUSE

Trina burst into the penthouse like a storm breaking through calm skies, the door slamming shut behind her. Her heels clicked furiously against the marble as she made a beeline for the stairs. Spencer enters a moment after her, mentally drained.

"Trina!" Spencer’s voice boomed from the living room. "I'm not going to put up with your attitude. What the hell were you doing at the club tonight?"

She stopped cold on the first step, turned slowly, and shot him a look that could have ignited fire. “It’s a free country,” she snapped. “My father owns The Savoy. I can go wherever the hell I want.”

Spencer exhaled sharply and turned away, his jaw tightening. He stalked toward the kitchen with Trina following closely, her presence hot on his back like a second skin. He yanked open the fridge, grabbed a bottle of Perrier, and twisted the cap off with unnecessary force.

“What is your problem, Trina?” he demanded.

She didn’t answer immediately. She just stood there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and disgust simmering just below the surface.

He took a long sip before scoffing. “Wow. Silence. Good. It must be my inflated ego talking. Here I was thinking maybe you showed up tonight for me. But maybe it was for your Latino loser instead.”

That cracked her composure.

Her voice came low, laced with venom. “Do you know how it makes me feel? Seeing that dollar store Barbie all over you? And you...you were entertaining it.”

Spencer leaned against the island, arms folded, lips pressed into a grim line. “Tell me, Trina. How did it make you feel?”

She stared at him, pain swimming in her eyes. “It made me sick. Physically sick. To see you act so reckless, like our vows were just words. Like they meant nothing.”

He took another sip, his expression unreadable as her words settled in. She could see it in the flicker of his gaze; she’d hit something real.

“Is it that easy for you to throw away everything we built?”

He looked at her, something heavy in his eyes. “Are you done?”

The sharpness of his tone caught her off guard. She blinked. Nodded once.

“I understand everything you're feeling,” he said quietly. “Just be glad Amber didn’t try to kiss me.”

He turned and walked away, heading toward the guest room.

Trina’s mouth fell open. Stunned. Furious. She launched forward, her heartbeat thudding in her ears. She reached him just before the door, placing her palm flat against his chest. The thrum of his heart pulsed beneath her fingers. His chest rose and fell, rapid, agitated.

“Spencer,” she said softly. “He’s not my anything. And you know that.”

He looked down at her hand, then into her eyes. “Do I? Because you and Temu Enrique Iglesias looked pretty damn cozy tonight.”

She scoffed, stepping in closer. “I’m shocked you could see past Little Orphan Annie throwing herself at you.”

Spencer’s lips twitched, a smirk dancing at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, so this was payback, huh?” she continued, eyes blazing. “You wanted me to hurt the way you did? I’m not one of our kids, Spencer. I don’t need to be taught a lesson.”

His smile faded. “Don’t you? Everything you’ve done lately has been juvenile. Reckless. What better life lesson, than for you to walk in my shoes? Feel what I feel.”

Trina shook her head, her voice nearly a whisper. “There’s no way you knew I’d show up tonight.”

“Maybe,” he murmured. “Maybe not. But I felt you. The second you walked into The Savoy. It’s the first time I’ve felt our connection in a long time.”

She blinked, the fire in her eyes dimming to embers. “So that show you put on… that was for my benefit?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “The opportunity just presented itself.”

Her eyes searched his face. “Is that so?”

A beat of silence passed between them, thick with unsaid things.

“So,” Spencer said, stepping just a little closer, “you’re jealous?”

She stiffened. “I’m not jealous.”

He raised a brow.

“I just don’t want to see your hands all over another woman,” she muttered.

“My hands were not all over another woman,” Spencer said, voice tight, expression unreadable.

Trina’s jaw clenched. “Spencer, I saw you… You admitted to signing her breast.”

He shrugged, casually leaning against the wall like the accusation barely phased him. “Technically, the marker was on her breast.”

“Technically, I don’t give a fuuuck,” she growled, stepping closer, heat rising from her skin. “I don’t want your hands on any other woman. Period.”

A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. A smile that made her insides twist with both rage and desire.

“Then where,” he said, voice dropping to a low, dangerous register, “do you want my hands, Trina?”

Her breath hitched. His gaze darkened as he took a single step toward her.

She instinctively stepped back.

He kept coming slow, deliberate, predatory, until her back met the wall by the staircase. The coolness of the paint pressed against her spine, contrast the burning tension between them.

Ain't this what you came for
Don't you wish you came, oh
Girl what you're playing for
Ah, come on

“Where,” he asked again, voice a seductive whisper, “should I put my hands… Trina?”

She looked up at him, her pulse racing, the answer lodged somewhere between her ribs and the heat pulsing low in her belly. Nervous anticipation glimmered in her eyes, but she didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

Spencer’s fingers, long and sure, brushed lightly against the side of her neck. Her breath caught as his touch traced the quickening beat of her pulse. He followed the line of her collarbone, slowly, reverently, then drifted down the sleek satin of her dress. The fabric whispered under his touch, and her skin burned beneath it.

Come on, let me kiss that
Ooh, I know you miss that
What's wrong, let me fix that
Twist that

“Where should I have my hands, Trina?” he murmured, his thumb now circling just above her breast. Then softly, deliberately, he grazed her nipple through the satin. It hardened instantly under his touch.

“Aahhh…” she moaned, the sound escaping before she could contain it. Her body arched toward him, instinct overriding restraint, her hands gripping the wall behind her like an anchor.

Spencer smiled as he watched her body react, a quiet pride blooming in his expression. “I’ve missed the way you melt for me… Still as responsive as ever.”

Then he stopped.

His hand fell away, and the cool air that rushed in where his touch had been made her gasp. Her eyes flew open.

“I’m going to need you to tell me,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. He pressed his body against hers, his harden length unmistakable against her stomach. His fingers tilted her chin gently, and his lips hovered just above hers, not quite touching, just enough to drive her mad.

He reached for her other breast, thumb flicking over the fabric, teasing her second nipple to a tight peak.

“Right here?” he whispered.

Her body trembled, her breath ragged. Her eyes widened, and she bit down on her bottom lip as pleasure rushed through her.

“I need to hear you, Mrs. Cassadine,” he said, voice like gravel and smoke, laced with authority and desire. “Where do you want my hands?”

Baby, tonight's the night I let you know
Baby, tonight's the night we lose control
Baby, tonight you need that, tonight believe that
Tonight, I'll be the best you ever had

Spencer’s hand began to drift away from her body, but Trina caught his wrist, her breath hitching. “Spencer, don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice a trembling blend of need and command.

He looked at her, the heat in his eyes blazing, then smiled a slow, wicked grin that promised ruin and reverence all at once.

His mouth found the base of her throat, tracing it with his tongue, his breath warm against her skin. Then their mouths collided, mouths opening, tongues tangling in a kiss that was more war than romance, hungry, and breathless.

With one fluid motion, he ran his hands up her sides, yanking down the strap of her dress, exposing her to the air and his touch. He cupped her breast, squeezing gently, before lowering his mouth to take her in, his lips and tongue working in rhythm until her head fell back against the wall with a soft gasp.

He dropped to his knees, dragging her panties down in a single, worshipful sweep. She stepped out of them; her dress bunched around her waist. He lifted her leg onto his shoulder, pressing soft kisses to her stomach before moving lower, his face buried in her heat.

Trina’s back arched, fingers tangling in his mane. Her pink acrylic nails scraped gently against his scalp, urging him deeper, not knowing where she ends and he begins, guiding his rhythm. She gripped the wall behind her, her thighs trembling as pleasure surged through her.

“Spencer…” she moaned, her voice dissolving into ragged breaths and half-formed words.

He held her steady, his strong hands gripping the back of her thighs, anchoring her to him. Her heel grazed his back, her body rocking, her cries echoing through the open space of the penthouse.

Then her body seized, a soft cry breaking from her lips as her climax crashed through her like a wave. She doubled forward, clutching his head, her body quaking with release. His tongue still relentless, grounding her in ecstasy, until the aftershocks faded.

I don't wanna brag, but I'll be
The best you ever had
I don't wanna brag, but I'll be
The best you ever had

Spencer rose to his full height, his hand slipping gently around her throat not to restrain, but to claim. He kissed her hard, messily, with raw hunger, letting her taste herself on his lips. It was dizzying. Intoxicating.

His other hand trailed down her back, then over her hips, cupping her with firm possession. Trina’s hands moved to his chest, sliding downward until she found the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers trembled with urgency, fumbling with the button, pulling him closer.

They broke apart for air and he guided her back, step by step, toward the staircase.

“Over,” he growled.

She turned without a word, placing her hands on the steps, arching her back. Her dress was now bunched above her hips. Spencer stood behind her, his presence massive, his control razor thin. He leaned in, his breath hot against her neck, planting kisses along her shoulder.

A sharp smack met her behind, drawing a gasp and making her hands press harder against the step. Another followed. He steadied her, his hands firm, claiming her like only he could.

“Spread them,” he said lowly, and she obeyed.

As Trina adjusted herself, Spencer gripped her hips with purpose and surged forward, burying himself to the hilt.

“Fuuuuck, Spencer!” she cried out, her voice echoing off the walls.

Her body welcomed him like it had been waiting for him for years, slick, warm, and eager. He moved within her with precision, his rhythm fluid, like a motorcycle weaving expertly through city traffic. Each thrust found its mark, pulling loud, breathy cries from her throat.

She met every stroke with bold, hungry bounces of her own, no longer shy about what she needed. Spencer growled low in his chest, the sound of it vibrating against her back, igniting her even more.

Gripping her ponytail, he tugged her head back, angling her just right. His other hand clamped firmly around her waist as he drove deeper, faster. Her moans turned to gasps, broken and messy, and her body started to quake as she clenched tightly around him.

“Damn, Trina,” he groaned, feeling the walls of her body pulse around him.

Her climax hit first, sudden and explosive. She cried out, her hands clawing at the stairs, her thighs trembling. He wasn't far behind. With a guttural grunt, he pushed deep and held himself there, pulsing inside her as release ripped through him.

For a few long seconds, the only sounds were their heavy breathing.

Spencer pulled out and sank to the floor, his back against the steps. Without hesitation, he reached for her.

Trina turned and took his hand, slipping into his lap with the grace of someone who’d belonged there forever. She curled into him, her head resting against his chest, both of them still flushed and glistening with sweat. Their foreheads met in quiet affection.

She giggled first, breaking the silence. “Well, that was intense.”

He laughed; a boyish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

She yelped, clinging to his shoulders as he rose to his feet like a man on a mission.

“Spencer!” she squealed, laughing as he stripped off the rest of his clothes, now fully nude and completely unbothered. Then with playful pride, he tossed her over his shoulder, her laughter bouncing off the walls.

“You’re insane!” she giggled, smacking his back. “I think you’re taking this Tarzan and Jane routine way too far.”

He glanced back at her, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You know you love it.”

He punctuated his words with a playful smack on her backside, making her squeal again as he carried her up the stairs toward their bedroom.

Behind them, the penthouse slowly quieted… but upstairs, the night was far from over.

I hit you with the best stroke,
Freestyle and the breaststroke
'Til you blow a cigarette smoke…
And now the bed’s broke.

By the time they made it to the bedroom, Trina was a vision of chaos and power. Hair wild, lipstick a faded whisper of war paint, her dress clinging in all the ways that made Spencer want to lose his mind all over again.

He kicked the door shut without looking. She barely had time to catch her breath before he tossed her onto the bed. She bounced once, laughing softly, then sat up with fire in her gaze. In one swift motion, she peeled the dress over her head and flung it aside, letting it fall to the floor. Her skin glowed in the soft light. She was raw and radiant, a mixture of a storm, and sanctuary.

Spencer stood at the foot of the bed in all his bare glory. She bit her lip at the sight of him, unashamed in her admiration.

He removed her heels before climbing onto the bed, looming over her, but she moved fast like a switch flipped. With a quick roll of her hips, she had him on his back, pinned beneath her. His cocky grin returned, that unmistakable Cassadine smirk.

“You think you had the upper hand?” she murmured, leaning in.

“I play to win,” he whispered, but his eyes said something else entirely like he’d give her anything just to keep feeling her like this.

Her kiss came slower this time. No rush, no firestorm just heat. Deep, deliberate. She kissed him like she was memorizing his taste, every press of her lips confessing something she hadn’t said out loud in weeks. Her mouth moved from his lips to his throat, then down to the curve of his shoulder, lower still. Her tongue flicked along the lines of his chest, adoring in her worship.

He groaned low as she kissed down his abdomen, each touch driving him wild with restraint. When she slid up his body, her wetness left a warm trail across his skin. She took her time. She always knew how to tease, how to make surrender feel like power.

And then slowly, sinfully, she guided him inside her.

A gasp escaped her lips as she took him in, the moment suspended in time. Spencer’s hands gripped her thighs as his head dropped back against the pillow, his jaw clenched, his breath caught.

She moved with control, rhythm, and a hunger that had lived dormant inside her. She rode him in waves, hips gliding back and forth, rising and falling in a sensual cadence that left them both trembling. His name spilled from her mouth like a prayer. His hands worshiped her body, holding her tighter every time she clenched around him.

The room filled with breathless gasps, skin against skin, murmured curses and moaned confessions. Their rhythm wasn’t perfect it was messy, passionate, real. Like the love they built. Like the life they’d nearly torn apart and still chose to fight for.

She leaned down, her forehead resting against his, their breaths mingling in the charged air.

“I missed this,” she whispered.

He kissed her, fierce and unspoken.

“I missed you,” he said into her mouth.

And then they moved together again stronger, deeper, chasing the kind of high only they could give each other.

“Tell me it's mine,” she said into his ear, her voice thick, breathless, drenched in need. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer until his mouth was at her throat, his body flush against hers, heat meeting heat.

“You already know,” he growled, his voice low, raw. His nails sank into her back, dragging down just enough to leave traces. “Now stop talking… and prove it.”

She did.

No more words.

Only bodies colliding in rhythm and hunger. Moans tangled with the hum of the city outside the window. Her legs wrapped around him tighter, pulling him deeper with every thrust. The bed creaked beneath them, the mattress protesting under the strain of love made like a storm, fierce, relentless, unapologetic.

Spencer’s hands roamed her curves like he’d gone too long without her. Like every touch needed to remind her she was his. She arched into him, her moans catching in her throat as he moved faster, deeper, dragging her closer to the edge.

Their foreheads pressed together, breath hot and shared between parted lips.

She clenched around him as her third climax tore through her, shuddering and unstoppable. Her nails bit into his shoulders, holding him in place like she could fuse them together. Spencer followed right behind her with a deep, guttural groan, his whole body tensing as he poured himself into her, one final thrust anchoring them both in the moment.

Stillness settled over them, like the eye of a storm that passed.

Baby, tonight's the night I let you know
Baby, tonight's the night we lose control
Baby, tonight you need that, tonight believe that
Tonight, I'll be the best you ever had

Their bodies stayed locked, skin damp with sweat and love and exhaustion. Trina collapsed against his chest, her ear pressed over his heartbeat wild, steady, real.

Spencer exhaled hard, wrapping both arms around her like he never wanted to let go.

Chapter Text

The room was cloaked in stillness, except for the soft, synchronized rhythm of their breath. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a faint silver glow on the tangled sheets. Spencer lay curled around Trina, his arm draped protectively across her waist, his palm resting against the warmth of her bare stomach. His nose nuzzled into the curve of her temple, grounding her with the intimacy of his touch.

Trina swallowed hard. The words trembled in her chest before they finally escaped. "I'm so sorry, honey. For putting us through this." Her voice was barely above a whisper, thick with regret. "It was wrong of me."

Spencer didn't speak right away. His hold on her didn't falter, but his voice, when it came, was low and bruised. "Why did you let Joss have carte blanche in our marriage?"

Trina exhaled shakily, her eyes fixed on the shadows dancing across the ceiling. "It started as this... need to prove her wrong. I was so determined to win, to show her I was right. I thought if I could just convince you, to see it the way I did, then everything would fall into place. That we’d beat whatever this challenge was." She paused, her voice cracking under the weight of the truth. "But then... I got scared. Scared she might be right. And once that fear took hold, everything just spiraled out of control."

Spencer shifted slightly, just enough to look at her, his gaze steady and searching in the dark. "I never understood," he said gently, "why you'd let someone like Joss, someone who’s never believed in lasting love, define what our marriage should be. Have I ever, even once, made you feel like this marriage is only about sex?"

Trina turned to face him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "No," she admitted, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "But I kept thinking... if I didn’t measure up, if I wasn’t enough, then I’d end up like her. Alone. Jaded. Rewriting what love is just to cope."

He reached up and cradled her face, his thumb brushing tenderly along her cheekbone. "Baby," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "that will never happen."

In the silence that followed, their foreheads met, and for the first time in weeks, the weight between them began to lift not completely, but enough to breathe again.

Trina shifted beneath the covers, her back nestled against Spencer’s chest, his arm curled securely around her waist. The warmth between them lingered, but there was a weight in her voice that hadn’t been there earlier.

“Babe,” she murmured, breaking the silence with a soft laugh. “You have to admit we're pretty active. Some might even call us rabbits.”

Spencer smirked at the analogy, his chest rumbling with amusement against her back. “Not denying it,” he murmured playfully.

She exhaled slowly, her smile fading into something quieter. “Still... sometimes it feels unnatural. Like, how are we this much in love when everything around us, our histories, our examples were the complete opposite?” Her voice turned reflective. “My parents’ marriage fell apart so early, I barely remember them happy. Aside from my grandparents, I’ve never seen love that actually lasts.”

Spencer’s voice came low and understanding, laced with his own scars. “I get it. I really do. I had a revolving door of almost-stepmothers. Women who played the part until they didn’t want too anymore.” He paused, pressing a kiss just beneath her ear. “But that’s exactly why we’re different, Trina. That’s what makes us strong. We’re breaking the curse. The dysfunction ends with us. And our kids?” He smiled against her skin. “They’re going to grow up watching a real marriage, messy, imperfect, but honest. Rooted in love.”

Trina turned slightly, just enough to look back at him, her eyes searching his face.

“And I almost destroyed that,” she whispered, her voice catching. “When…” She hesitated, uncertain how much truth the moment could hold. She looked into his eyes, watching for even the smallest sign to stop.

Spencer’s fingers brushed her cheek, steady. “Go ahead. Continue.”

She inhaled shakily, then spoke. “When he tried to kiss me... everything stopped. That’s when it hit me, how fast one moment, one bad decision, could unravel everything we’ve built. I thought about my mom. About how she made one choice, and it shattered her marriage and it shattered us. Even now, we’re still not right. That moment, him leaning in, it was like seeing all the years of marriage and then some vanish in an instant. It sobered me so fast I grabbed my things and got the hell out of there.”

There was silence, thick and heavy. Then Spencer reached for her hand, his fingers weaving tightly through hers, grounding her.

“I never meant to put you and the kids through any of this,” Trina said, her voice breaking. “The way our son looks at me now—like I’m the villain in his story it kills me.”

Spencer leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. “Babe,” he said softly, “he doesn’t see you as a villain. He was just caught off guard, that’s all. He loves you...loves you to the moon and back. He’s just learning earlier than most kids that his parents are human. And being human means, we screw up sometimes. But we also show him how to take responsibility. How to fight for the people you love.”

He kissed her forehead tenderly, letting the silence settle with comfort this time.

Then, he added quietly, “I know you’re still angry with your mom for the affair. But selfishly, I’m grateful to her.”

Trina raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Grateful?”

He nodded, entirely serious. “If it hadn’t been for her affair, there wouldn’t be a Trina Robinson. And without Trina Robinson…” He paused, his eyes glinting with sincerity, “I’d be wandering this world, searching aimlessly for someone who completed me. Feeling hollow. Probably ending up like my grandfather Stavros.” He gave a theatrical shudder, the kind that barely masked the truth behind the humor.

Trina laughed softly, wiping at her eyes with the edge of the blanket. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he murmured, pulling her closer. “And I wouldn’t change one thing because it all led me to you.”

In the quiet that followed, wrapped in the aftermath of truth and tenderness, they lay still. Heartbeats steady, hands entwined, a little closer than before.

Her thumb traced the curve of his jaw as she studied his face, the face she knew better than her own. “I really hope what you said about Chris is true,” she added. “Because I knew I overreacted that day, seeing you and the kids come back from Disney World.” Her voice trembled slightly. “Honey, you’re an amazing father. You always have been. And I know you always will be. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise. I know you’ll always spoil them rotten, even when it drives me crazy.”

Spencer gave a faint smile, but the flicker of hurt in his eyes hadn’t fully disappeared. “Then why were you so angry?” he asked, not accusing, just needing to understand.

Trina hesitated, then took a breath and let herself fall completely into the moment. “Because… with all my chaos—coming home late, missing family nights I already felt like I was slipping away from the life we built. And then I saw you all come in, smiling, laughing, the kids practically clinging to you like little magnets. You three looked like this perfect, happy family.” She paused, the pain raw in her voice. “And I wasn’t a part of it. It felt like you didn’t need me anymore… like I didn’t belong. And that made me angry.”

She blinked down a tear. “And then the day you walked out I knew I’d pushed too far. I was scared I’d really lost you. And honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed you for wanting a divorce. But I promised myself, right then, I would do everything in my power to earn you back.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his eyes warm with unwavering devotion. “Trina, what makes you think we would ever get divorced?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s more likely that pigs will fly.”

He leaned in, closer, voice dipping into that playful Cassadine mischief. “But let’s say, by some freak act of the universe, we did get divorced... You’d never have a moment of peace. I’d stalk and sabotage every single romantic interest until you were forced to take me back.”

Trina let out a startled laugh, eyes wide with disbelief. “Spencer, you wouldn’t.”

He gave her a slow, knowing look.

Her jaw dropped. “You would… wouldn’t you?”

“Baby,” he said, completely serious now, “I’m a Cassadine. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for love.”

Trina shook her head with a smile, her laughter slipping into something softer, more tender. “I think… I can live with that forever.”

“I knew you’d see it my way,” Spencer murmured, his lips brushing the edge of her neck as he lowered himself, pressing a kiss there with deliberate slowness.

Her breath caught, but the emotion hadn’t fully left her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, the words coated in guilt and love. A tear traced down her cheek before she could stop it.

Spencer caught it with his thumb, wiping it away before it could fully fall. “Babe,” he said firmly, eyes locked with hers, “I forgive you. You don’t have to be sorry anymore. I love you. I’m not going anywhere. I meant every word of our vows. And I told Chris the same.”

Her lips quivered as emotion overtook her. “I love you so much, Spencer,” she whispered. “And I meant every word of our vows too. I’m not going anywhere.”

Their lips met in a kiss, tender at first, an apology, a promise, a release. But it deepened quickly, turned into something more. Something rooted in all the ways they'd hurt and healed, all the ways they chose one another over and over again.

And in that room, bathed in moonlight, wrapped in whispered forgiveness and tangled limbs they made love again.

Chapter Text

THE NEXT MORNING

The morning light filtered softly through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the bed. Trina stirred first, her body still heavy with the weight of sleep, the softness of her skin lingering with the memory of last night and into the early morning hours. Spencer was already awake, watching her with a look in his eyes that wasn’t just desire but something deeper—something rare between them.

He reached for her hand, gently threading his fingers through hers. She squeezed back without thinking, still half-dreaming, the weight of his touch like a balm for all the tension between them.

Trina’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as she rolled onto her side to face him. “Good morning, you seem to be in deep thought. What are you thinking about?”

Spencer smiled, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her palm. “Good morning, just thinking I'm the luckiest man in the world,” he said softly.

She met his eyes then, and the walls between them felt like they were gone. She reached out, brushing her fingers over his jaw, the faint stubble there making her fingertips tingle. “No, I’m the luckiest woman in the world having you for a husband,” she said, her voice low and serious, yet wrapped in a tenderness that made his heartbeat faster.

“Glad to hear it,” he teased lightly, but there was an edge of sincerity beneath the humor.

Spencer’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle that had always belonged. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the weight of the moment settling between them.

Trina’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. Spencer, who was closer to the edge of the bed, glanced at it, then handed it to her. She hesitated before taking it, a deep breath escaping her lips as she saw Joss's name on the screen.

"Hello?" Trina answered, her voice steady, though her eyes still reflected the emotional toll of the previous night.

"Hey, Trina," Joss's voice came through, light but with an undercurrent of concern. "I just wanted to check in... after last night. You, okay?"

Trina glanced at Spencer, who gave her a supportive nod, though she could see the quiet worry etched on his face. She swallowed, trying to keep her composure. "Things aren’t completely okay, but we’re... working our way back. Slowly."

"I'm really happy for you, T," Joss responded quickly. "Maybe we can do lunch, celebrate a little? You, me, and Spencer, of course."

Trina’s grip tightened around the phone. "Joss," she said, her voice firm yet gentle. "I don’t think now’s the right time. And if I’m honest, I’m not sure I believe you’re truly happy for us."

There was a pause on the other end, before Joss replied, her voice more defensive than before. "Of course, I am. You know that."

Trina closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "Let’s not pretend. There’s too much that’s happened, things neither Spencer nor I can just overlook."

Joss’s tone softened, but Trina could hear the hurt. "But you called me last night, T. I’m your best friend."

Trina exhaled sharply. "You’re right. You are my best friend, Joss. You’ve been the one constant in my life, the first person I connected with when I got here. But I think I’ve used you as a safety net for too long and I don’t want to do that anymore."

There was a beat of silence. "What do you mean?" Joss asked quietly, as if unsure of where this conversation was headed.

Trina shifted uncomfortably, looking down at her hands. "I’ve been through a lot, Joss. Both my fathers were shot; I was held at gunpoint with my mom by Cyrus. But… none of that shattered me the way losing Spencer did. Even when my dad faked his death, it hurt, but it wasn’t like this. When he came back, we built something beautiful together. But, like anything that’s shattered… when you try to put it back together, it’s never the same. There are cracks, and I don’t know how to fix them."

She paused, feeling the weight of her words. "I haven’t been all in with my marriage. I love Spencer more than anything, but I’m scared, Joss. I wake up in the middle of the night just to make sure he’s still here, still breathing. There’s a part of me holding back, afraid of losing him again. So, I lean on you. You gave me balance when I was too afraid to go all in. I allowed the digs at Spencer, at our marriage, because a part of me was waiting for it to fall apart. I was waiting for the loss again."

"Trina..." Joss’s voice cracked, thick with regret. "I didn’t know you felt that way."

Trina let out a shaky breath. "I didn’t either. Not until I said it out loud."

There was a long pause before Joss spoke again. "I can fix this, T. Please let me help you."

Trina shook her head, despite knowing Joss couldn’t see her. "You can’t help with this. I need professional help. I’m going to therapy. And I think you should too."

Joss’s response was quick, almost startled. "Wait are you saying we should go together? Like group therapy?"

"No," Trina said, her voice firm. "I think you should go to therapy. For yourself."

"I don’t need therapy, Trina," Joss replied, her voice defensive.

Trina’s heart sank. "You do, Joss. It hurts me that you don’t see it. You’re co-dependent on me. You assumed we’d go to therapy together. I can’t be your everything, Joss."

Joss was quiet for a moment. "So what? Are you saying we’re not friends anymore?"

Trina’s gaze shifted to Spencer, his presence a quiet anchor as she steadied herself. "No," she said softly, "but we can’t have the same friendship we had. We need boundaries."

"Trina, true friendships don’t have boundaries," Joss replied, a mixture of confusion and hurt in her voice.

"Maybe that’s true for some friendships," Trina replied. "But not ours. There have been times when I’ve had to hold back my happiness around you. The more joyful I get, the more uncomfortable you seem. Then the digs start. At Spencer, at my marriage. It chips away at the fragile peace I’m trying to build. I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when you keep chipping at the cracks in my foundation."

Joss’s voice trembled. "I didn’t know I was doing that to you. I’m sorry."

Trina’s eyes welled up, though she blinked the tears away. "That’s the point. You don’t realize the effect it’s having on me. You were happy with Cam, and you destroyed that. You've single-handedly sabotaged all your relationships. And now you’re doing the same to my marriage. A real friend would support me—us. Not tear it down.”

“Maybe it’s because of your parents’ divorce. Maybe it’s from losing Oscar. But whatever it is, it’s not something I can fix. And it’s not something I should have to carry for you."

Trina took a deep breath, her heart aching as she spoke. "You’ve known Spencer longer than I have, but sometimes… you act like he’s a stranger. And I don’t know how to keep living in that tension."

Joss was silent for a moment. "He does feel like a stranger sometimes. This Spencer Cassadine… he’s not the screw-up I knew. He’s changed. And I guess I haven’t. I feel like I’m losing everyone. Like everything’s falling apart, and it’s all my fault."

Trina’s voice softened, but it held a quiet strength. "I’m not blaming you. But I’m telling you how I’ve failed myself and my marriage. I’ve allowed too much to slide, too much of what you said, what you've done. I should’ve never let it get this far."

She paused, her chest tightening. "I can’t keep living in fear, Joss. I want to jump back into the deep end of my love for Spencer, fully, without holding anything back. He’s been patient with me, through all of this. But everyone has a breaking point. And I took that for granted. So… I need space. I need to focus on myself, my marriage, and my family."

Joss’s voice wavered, quiet and uncertain. "Are you putting a timeframe on our friendship?"

Trina closed her eyes for a moment, the weight of her decision settling deep within her. "Call it what you want. I’m calling it putting my happiness first. I’ve forgotten that Spencer is also my best friend, and I need to make up for lost time with him, with my kids. Between work, family, and therapy, I’ll be stretched thin, Joss. But I hope… I hope you’ll choose to get help too. I have to go now."

Her voice was soft, but firm. "Love you, Joss."

"Bye," Joss whispered before hanging up.

Trina stared at the phone in her hand for a moment before placing it gently on the nightstand. She took a deep breath and turned to Spencer, who was watching her with understanding, his arms open.

"I think that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done," she murmured, burying her face in his chest.

"You did what you had to," Spencer said quietly, holding her tight. "And now, we focus on us. I'm so sorry Babe..."

Trina raises a brow. "What are you sorry for? You've done nothing wrong."

“I didn't realize that you were still suffering. Why didn't you say anything?

"Honestly, I was ashamed of myself for being weak. You came back to me, and together we built such a wonderful life and raised beautiful children. Still, I would have nightmares that everything we created was just a dream and that losing you and everything we have was my reality. So, I wake up and watch you sleep, just to quiet the noise in my head."

"Well, I’m going to reassure you every single day that those nightmares will never be your reality again. In fact, I’m going to start right now. I know something that will cheer you up,” said Spencer.

“Is that so...”

“I have a new challenge for us,” Spencer announced, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Trina unravels herself, visibly alarmed. “Absolutely not.”

“Whaaaat, come on,” he whined, dragging out the syllables like a child denied candy.

She shook her head with fervent finality. “Spencer, our marriage cannot survive another ridiculous challenge.”

“But I did it for you,” he said, jutting out his lower lip in a comical pout that nearly softened her.

Trina let out a long, resigned sigh. “Okay,” she muttered, throwing up her hands. “It’s only fair. What’s this new challenge, exactly?”

He leaned in, voice dropping into something low and dangerous. “It’s called the how many times can you say my name challenge.”

Her eyes widened, then sparkled with amusement. A laugh bubbled up from her chest, light and infectious. “Oh, that kind of challenge?”

Before she could blink, she’s on her back and Spencer had slipped between her thighs, his hands spreading them apart with practiced ease.

“And what do I get if I win?” she asked, breathless from nothing but anticipation.

He looked up with a wolfish grin. “Oh baby… if you don’t already know, then I’ve been doing it all wrong.”

With that, he dipped his head, his tongue darting out to flick her clit with agonizing precision. She gasped, hips jerking, body already reacting to his touch. Pushing her thighs back, he delved deeper, tongue plunging in and out of her as she writhed beneath him. His mouth returned to her clit, circling it, then latching on with a gentle suckle that made her cry out.

“Spencer—” she moaned, breath hitching. He didn’t stop.

“Spencer,” she said again, more desperate this time, legs clamping around his head. He continues his version of a tongue-lashing which drove her to near madness.

“Spencer!” Her back arched, body chasing the climax that surged through her like a wave. “Spen...Spen...Spe—oh GOD!”

She shattered, hips bucking, stomach tightening, the orgasm tearing through her like lightning. He didn’t stop until she was trembling, boneless and gasping for air.

When Spencer finally resurfaced, his face slick with satisfaction, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her with pride.

“Whoa, Mrs. Cassadine,” he said with a breathless chuckle. “You made your husband blush. Extra points for the ‘Oh God.’”

Trina, still catching her breath, turned her head slowly to face him. Her eyes smoldered.

“Round two?” she murmured, raising a teasing brow.

Spencer grinned and pounced. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Their mouths met again hungry, unrelenting as they dove back into passion, determined to make up for every second lost.

Chapter Text

THE PENTHOUSE

Over the past several weeks, Spencer and Trina had been quietly weaving their lives together, thread by thread. Their bond deepened with every shared glance, late-night talk, and moment of laughter. Trina had begun her therapy sessions, something she approached with nervous courage and on the days when she felt unsteady, Spencer often joined her, sitting silently at her side, his presence grounding her.

Outside of those walls, they made it a point to create new memories date nights filled with stolen kisses and shared desserts, family outings to the aquarium, the zoo complete with sticky cotton candy fingers, and shrieks of laughter at the theme park as they braved roller coasters together.

Still, Spencer noticed the subtle cracks that remained. The children were affectionate with him but hesitant when left alone with Trina. And Trina, though trying with all her heart, seemed unsure of her footing, as if she were afraid of pressing too hard or saying the wrong thing. Spencer, ever determined, refused to let that invisible wall stand between them. Quietly, he resolved to take matters into his own hands. If Trina and the children couldn’t yet bridge the gap all at once, then maybe... just maybe a divide and conquer approach would ease them into comfort.

The following Saturday morning, after breakfast dishes were cleared away, the family sprawled across the living room floor. Sunlight filtered in through the glass pane, casting warm stripes across the floor. The kids were curled up on the couch, eyes glued to the television where the 'Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' battled villains with nunchucks and witty one-liners.

Spencer leaned forward with a mischievous smile. “I have a great idea for what we should do today.”

Two little heads turned toward him, eyes curious and waiting. Even Trina arched a brow, sensing the spark of excitement in his tone.

He paused for dramatic effect, rubbing his hands together. “But I’ll need a drumroll first.”

The kids giggled and slapped their thighs in unison, the living room filling with the playful sound of pretend drums.

Spencer raised his voice, drawing out the suspense. “…And today, we are going to… the American Girl Store! Tada!” He threw his arms open like a magician revealing his final trick.

Core nearly jumped out of her skin with excitement, clapping her hands as if Spencer had just announced Christmas is tomorrow. Beside her, Chris sank back into the couch with an exaggerated groan, his face twisted in disappointment.

“What’s the matter, son?” Spencer asked gently.

Chris crossed his arms, sulking. “I really don’t want to look at dolls.”

Spencer tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to ponder like a detective solving a great mystery. “You know what, son? You’re right. I guess you would find it boring.” His eyes lit up suddenly. “How about we go to the skating rink instead?”

Chris perked up instantly. “Yeah, Daddy that’s perfect!” he cheered, sitting forward with renewed energy.

But before Spencer could celebrate his quick fix, Core tugged insistently on his sleeve, her wide eyes pleading. “Daddy, I want to go to the doll store.”

Chris shot her a look. “Well, I want to go skating. I want to try out my new rollerblades!”

The twins’ voices collided, growing louder and sharper until it became a full-on argument.

“Hey, hey, hey…” Spencer started, raising his hands in an attempt to calm the storm.

But before he could get another word out, a sharp whistle cut through the chaos. The sound was so commanding that both children froze in place, their little spines snapping straight as they stared at Trina.

“Guys,” Trina said evenly, her tone soft but firm, “give your dad a chance to speak.”

Spencer’s eyes flicked to her, gratitude shining there. He gave her a small nod before addressing the kids again. “Alright, here’s the best option to make everyone happy. I’ll take Core to the American Girl, and Babe” he glanced at Trina, “you can take Chris to the skating rink.”

The room fell quiet for a beat, both Chris and Trina staring at him as if he had just announced the end of the world.

Chris clutched Spencer’s hand, his voice desperate. “Daddy, I changed my mind. I’ll go with you and Core to the doll store.”

Trina blinked, clearly thrown off balance. “Um… honey, maybe we can all go skating next week instead.”

Spencer shook his head. “Next week the kids are going to your parents.”

“Then the week after next,” Trina tried again.

Spencer clapped his hands together, his voice final. “Come on, guys, you’re being ridiculous. It’s decided. Chris, you’re going with your mom, and you’re going to have a great time. Core and I are headed to American Girl. Now, Chris, grab your skates, and Core, grab your bag. Let’s move.”

Core squealed and bolted upstairs, her footsteps echoing as she raced to pack her things. Chris, on the other hand, looked as though he’d been sentenced to life in prison. His feet dragged against the floor with every reluctant step as he disappears upstairs to his room.

The moment his bedroom door clicked shut, Trina reached over and pinched Spencer’s forearm.

“Ow!” He jerked his arm back, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”

Her eyes narrowed, her voice low. “Are you nuts?”

Spencer blinked at her, feigning innocence. “What? I just solved the problem.”

Trina’s voice trembled as the words burst out of her. “Why, on God’s green Earth, would you do that? Did you see the look on our son’s face?” Her eyes flicked toward Chris’s closed bedroom door, her anguish plain. “He would rather be swallowed up into a black hole than be with me.” Her voice hitched on the last word, and she pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling.

Spencer moved without hesitation. He stepped in close, wrapping his arms around her from behind, holding her steady against the storm of her doubts. He bent down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “That,” he murmured gently, “is exactly the reason why.”

Trina stiffened, her breath caught between frustration and pain.

“Babe,” Spencer continued softly, “you can’t keep tap dancing around the issue. Chris loves you. He’s always loved you. He just doesn’t know how to show it right now. That’s why this time alone matters it’ll remind him what life is like without me as a buffer. And trust me, he’s a momma’s boy. Always has been. Always will be.”

Her shoulders slumped as she let out an exhausted breath. She turned in his arms and rested her head against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him. “I don’t know about that,” she whispered. “Maybe once upon a time. But now…”

Spencer cupped the back of her head, steadying her against him. “Trust me,” he said again, his voice quiet but firm. “This will work.”

She tilted her face up toward him, her eyes searching his. “And there’s nothing I can say to change your mind?”

He shook his head slowly, a small, almost smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Her brows arched mischievously. “What about that thing from the other night?”

The color rose immediately in Spencer’s cheeks, and he cleared his throat, suddenly struggling for composure. “I… I didn’t know that kind of offer was on the table.” His arms tightened around her as his nose brushed along her jawline, then traced lower to the curve of her neck, his voice dropping. “Now you’re playing dirty.”

Trina let out a soft laugh, placing her palm firmly against his chest to create space. “It can be if you change your mind. I’ll take Core doll shopping, and you can take Chris skating.”

Spencer caught her hand before she could pull away completely, lifting it to his lips and pressing a deliberate kiss to her fingers. His eyes held hers as he whispered, “Nice try.” He stepped back with a boyish grin. “But I meant what I said. Trust me, this will work.”

Before Trina could argue further, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed on the stairs. The children appeared, backpacks in hand, their little faces a mix of excitement and dread. Spencer gave Trina a subtle, reaffirming nod as if to say: Hold steady.

Chris moved straight to his father, grabbing his hand and swinging it gently, his eyes wide with uncertainty. “Daddy, are you sure you can’t come with us?”

Spencer crouched down so they were eye level. “Son, you’re going to have a great time with your mommy, okay? And since I can’t be there, I need you to do something very important for me.”

Chris straightened, hanging on his father’s words. “What is it?”

Spencer’s voice was gentle but carried a seriousness that made the boy listen. “I need you to protect her. Can you do that for me?”

Chris’s chest puffed out, and he nodded with conviction. “Yes, Daddy.”

Spencer smiled, pride shining in his eyes. He pulled his son into a hug. “Thank you, son. I knew I could count on you.”

When Chris finally let go, he walked toward the door where Trina was waiting. For a moment, Spencer’s gaze followed them both, and the resemblance between mother and son was uncanny—the same doe eyes, the same determined tilt of the chin, even the way they both hesitated before stepping forward.

“Have fun, guys,” Spencer called out, his voice warm but steady. “I love you both.”

“I love you too, Daddy!” Chris shouted back, his small voice brimming with reluctant excitement.

Core stood at Spencer’s side, waving energetically. “Bye! Have fun!”

The door clicked shut, leaving Spencer in the quiet with his daughter. He glanced down at her as she beamed up at him, ready for their adventure, and he exhaled, whispering under his breath, “Alright… let’s make this work.”

*********************************************************************************************************************************************

SKATEROMA RINK

The ride over was suffocatingly quiet, the kind of silence that made Trina hyperaware of every red light and every turn. Chris had his headphones clamped over his ears, staring out the window with that expressionless mask he had perfected. Small talk wasn’t even an option.

But the second they walked through the glowing entrance of Skateroma Rink, everything changed. The bass of the music thrummed through the floor, neon lights spun like kaleidoscopes across the walls, and the laughter of skaters echoed around them. The rink stretched out in two halves one buzzing with children holding hands and wobbling along the rails, the other alive with adults gliding with effortless precision, showing off tricks and stunts that drew applause.

Chris’ eyes widened with awe, his face finally breaking into an unguarded smile. He darted toward a table near the adult rink, kicking off his sneakers with a thud before hurriedly lacing up his skates.

“WAIT!” Trina’s voice cut through the music just as he popped up and angled himself toward the adult rink.

Chris froze, halfway annoyed.

“You’re going into the wrong rink,” she said, pointing toward the other side.

Chris groaned and did everything short of rolling his eyes. “That one’s for babies.”

“Chris…” Trina hesitated, watching an older skater spin into a perfect backflip. “I don’t know. These adults are pulling off tricks. You might get hurt.”

“I’m not a baby,” he muttered, low but firm. Then, almost under his breath, the words slipped out: “I wish Daddy was here.”

Trina’s chest tightened, her heart dropping like a stone. She swallowed hard as Chris turned away, shoulders hunched, dragging himself back toward the table to tug off his skates.

“Chris, wait.”

Kneeling beside him, Trina gently placed her hand over his, stopping him from unlacing. Her voice trembled, but she steadied it with a breath. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but no matter how big you get, you’ll always be my baby. How about this let me go rent some skates, and we’ll do this together. Just you and me.”

Chris’ pout broke into a wide grin, and for the first time all day, Trina felt like she’d gotten through to him. She exhaled, relief warming her chest, then hurried off to the booth while Chris tapped his skates impatiently, bouncing in excitement.

The DJ’s voice boomed, followed by the beat of Chris Brown’s “Wall to Wall,” sending the rink into a frenzy. Chris couldn’t resist he bolted into the crowd of skaters, weaving in and out like he had done it a hundred times before.

“Chris!” Trina called, clutching her skates, but it was too late. He was gone, swallowed by flashing lights and bodies spinning on wheels. Despite her nerves, she couldn’t deny her pride. He was fast, sharp, even fearless his tricks earning nods from onlookers.

By the time she laced up and stumbled onto the rink, Chris had already spotted her. He waved big, grinning ear to ear. She couldn’t help but laugh, waving back.

Then the DJ switched tracks. The opening beat of Will Smith’s “Men in Black” filled the air. Chris attempted a one-legged glide, leaning with confidence but in the next instant, two teens doing synchronized backward tricks barreled straight toward him.

“Chris!” Trina shot forward instinctively, her heart leaping into her throat. She shoved him out of harm’s way just as the collision happened.

The impact sent her crashing to the floor, the sound of wheels skidding and bodies tumbling echoing through the rink.

“MOMMY!” Chris’ scream cut through the music. His face paled with fear as he sped toward her, his skates blurring in desperation.

The two teens scrambled up quickly, brushing themselves off. “Sorry!” they mumbled in unison before skating away without looking back.

Chris dropped to his knees beside Trina, panic flashing in his eyes. “Mommy, are you okay?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then—laughter.

Trina’s laughter bubbled out uncontrollably, shaky and full, until tears streamed down her cheeks. She was still sprawled across the floor, clutching her side, unable to stop.

Chris blinked at her, baffled. “Mommy… this isn’t funny.”

“Okay, okay,” she wheezed between chuckles, still sprawled out. “Maybe a little funny.”

“Stay here. I’m getting help,” Chris said, his voice firm, suddenly older than his years. He shot off toward the attendant’s booth.

Moments later, he returned with a rink worker who helped Trina carefully to her feet and guided her to a bench. She sat down, wincing, her laugh finally subsiding.

“Mommy, you’re bleeding,” Chris whispered, pointing to the gash on her knee.

The adrenaline of the crash had barely worn off when Chris darted toward the rink attendant. “Do you have a first aid kit?” His voice cracked with urgency.

The man gave a short nod and disappeared toward the supply counter.

Chris hurried back to Trina, his face pale with guilt. “Mommy, I’m so sorry. It was stupid of me I should’ve been paying attention. I should’ve been the one who got hurt.”

Trina reached up, brushing away a stray tear that slipped down his cheek. “Chris, sweetie, it’s okay. Really. I went out there because I saw what was about to happen. It’s my job to protect you. Always.”

But Chris shook his head stubbornly, his brows furrowed. “No… I told Daddy—”

Trina tilted her head, gently coaxing, “You told Daddy what, Prince?”

Chris froze, the words clinging to the edge of his lips before he swallowed them down. He dropped his gaze, voice barely a whisper. “Nothing.”

Before she could press further, the attendant returned carrying a bulky red first aid kit. He knelt in front of Trina, popping it open. “Let’s take care of that knee, ma’am.”

But Chris stepped forward, planting himself protectively between Trina and the man. “That won’t be necessary. I can help my mommy.”

The seriousness in his tone nearly broke Trina’s composure she had to bite back a laugh. In that moment, he was Spencer all over again: the piercing eyes, the authority in his voice, the unshakable confidence in taking charge.

The attendant blinked, then raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, little man. You’ve got this.”

Chris gave him a look so sharp it could’ve cut glass, leaving no room for argument. Then, with surprising focus, he went to work. He cleaned the scrape with careful precision, wincing each time his mother did, before securing the bandage neatly in place.

When he was done, he snapped the kit closed and handed it back. “Thank you,” Trina said warmly to the attendant. Chris, however, simply gave him a curt nod, silent but commanding.

The man chuckled to himself and walked off, shaking his head.

Chris turned back to his mother; guilt etched across his young face. “Mommy, we should get you home.”

Trina gave him a soft smile, leaning back against the bench. “But I’m really enjoying our time out.”

“Really?” His eyes widened, doubtful. “But you’re hurt. And it’s all my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Chris.” She tilted his chin up, so he’d meet her gaze. “I’m fine. But maybe we should do something less… physical.”

He raised a brow, skeptical.

“I think it’s safe to say roller skating won’t be in my future any time soon,” she said with a chuckle. “But how about this, what if we go to an arcade? Maybe Dave & Buster’s?”

Chris’ entire demeanor shifted. His face lit up, and he started bouncing on his skates like a little kid again. “Yeah! That sounds awesome! But… are you sure? That was a hard fall. Daddy would want you home, resting.”

“Son,” she said gently, brushing her hand across his cheek again, “I’m fine. And let me worry about Daddy, okay?”

Chris nodded solemnly. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Trina pushed herself up from the bench and immediately winced, her knee screaming in protest. Chris’ eyes darted to her in panic.

“I’m good, Prince,” she assured quickly, forcing a smile. “I just need to take it a little slower.”

Without hesitation, Chris slid under her arm, looping his small arm around her waist. “You can lean on me, Mommy.”

And so, they walked together, side by side, leaving Skateroma behind. For the first time that day, Trina realized her little boy was growing up, quicker than she was ready for.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************

AMERICAN GIRL

The moment Spencer stepped into the American Girl store with Core; he instantly questioned his life choices. The place was buzzing with energy, a chaos that reminded him of the New York Stock Exchange only instead of stockbrokers in suits, there were swarms of little girls clutching dolls, some squealing with delight while others erupted into tantrums of epic proportions.

Core, however, was in her element. She darted down the aisles, practically dancing between the displays, her eyes sparkling as she picked up dolls and invented elaborate backstories on the spot. Spencer chuckled under his breath, watching her with a fondness he couldn’t mask. She was him at that age, animated, imaginative, and completely unfiltered.

Of course, while Core was busy weaving stories for the dolls, the women in the store seemed far more interested in him. He caught the flirtatious glances; the lingering looks that followed him down the aisle. Core noticed too, rolling her eyes so hard Spencer was half-worried they’d get stuck that way.

Their stroll was interrupted when a store employee approached, her smile directed solely at Spencer. She tucked her hair behind her ear, her gaze shamelessly skipping over Core.

“Sir is there anything I can help you with?” she asked, her tone a little too sweet.

Spencer returned her smile politely but shook his head. “Actually, I’m not the customer today.” His voice softened as he glanced at his daughter. “That honor goes to my princess.”

His words were laced with so much affection that even the employee faltered for a second.

“Oh, excuse me, princess,” the woman said with a playful bow. “What can I help you with today? You must feel so lucky to have such a handsome daddy who treats you like a princess.”

Core froze, then fixed the woman with a glare that could have burned through steel. “My name is Courtney. My daddy is the only person who can call me princess.”

The employee blinked, clearly taken aback by the authority in the little girl’s voice. “Oh, I... I’m sorry.”

“My daddy treats me like a princess,” Core went on firmly, chin lifted high, “because I am a princess.”

Spencer chuckled but gently interjected, “Core, a princess should always be polite.”

But his daughter wasn’t backing down. Without even looking at the woman again, she held up a doll. “Daddy, do you think Mommy will like this one?” she asked, her voice deliberately loud. “Isn’t this doll beautiful like Mommy?”

The pointed jab hung in the air, crystal clear for the employee and for every other woman who had been eyeing Spencer.

Spencer bit back a laugh. “I think we’re good here. Thank you for your help,” he said smoothly, dismissing the employee with a polite nod. The woman walked away, still flustered, while Core rolled her eyes in triumph.

“Yes, princess,” Spencer said, leaning down so only she could hear, “she is almost as beautiful as you and Mommy.”

Satisfied, Core strutted past the women in the store, head held high, and Spencer followed with an amused smirk tugging at his lips. She was a firecracker, unapologetically bold, just like her mother.

By the end of their adventure, Core had selected not one but two dolls, both with matching outfits for herself, plus a basket full of accessories. Spencer paid without complaint, and soon they were settled into the store’s café. While Core enjoyed her “teatime,” sitting at a tiny table with her dolls arranged neatly beside her, Spencer stood in line waiting for their order.

From where he stood, he watched her...her posture straight, her face radiant after her visit to the salon, her dolls “sharing” in the ritual like honored guests. She looked so grown up in that moment, yet still perfectly his little girl.

As he approached the table, tray in hand, he caught her mid-play. One doll scolded another in Core’s clear, no-nonsense voice: “Enough. Go to bed.”

The words hit Spencer harder than he expected. He felt a pang in his chest, a sudden ache as he realized she was mimicking the rhythms of home. Her mother’s voice, her words, etched into her play. It was heartbreaking to watch.

Spencer set the tray gently on the little café table and slid into the seat beside Core. Her dolls were propped in front of her, stiff but expressive in her hands. He tilted his head, softening his tone.

“Hey, hey, hey… what’s going on here?”

Core didn’t look at him at first, her attention fixed on the dolls. “The mommy is mad at her daughter,” she said flatly.

Spencer’s heart skipped. “Why is Mommy mad?”

She only shrugged, her shoulders lifting, then falling, her lips pressed tight.

“How does the daughter feel after Mommy yells at her?” he asked gently.

Another shrug.

Spencer reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Come on, Sweetpea, you can tell Daddy. It’s just you and me.”

Her little voice cracked. “She feels sad… and scared.”

The words landed heavy in his chest. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Is that how you feel when Mommy screamed at you and Chris?”

This time, Core couldn’t shrug it off. She hung her head, nodding slowly. Spencer wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close as tears dampened his shirt. He rubbed soothing circles across her back, his own throat tightening.

“I’m so sorry that you’re sad and feel scared,” he murmured into her hair. “I wish you told me sooner.”

She clung to him, her arms squeezing around his waist like she was afraid he’d vanish if she let go. “I couldn’t. You weren’t home.”

The confession hit him like a punch to the gut. His breath caught, his chest heavy with guilt.

“And when you came back…” Core’s voice dropped to almost a whisper, “…I didn’t want to make you sad so you would leave again.”

Spencer shut his eyes for a moment, grief and love tangling together. He kissed her forehead softly. “Oh, Princess. Thank you for thinking about my feelings. But it’s my job to make sure you’re happy. I’m so sorry you felt you couldn’t come to me. I need you to know. I’m always here for you. No matter what. You can always come to me.”

She sniffled, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. “Okay, Daddy. I will.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “As for Mommy, she loves you very, very much. Parents… we make mistakes too. And Mommy is also sad and scared about how she treated you and Chris.”

Core frowned. “Why is Mommy scared?”

“Because she’s afraid you don’t love her anymore,” Spencer explained, searching for a way to help her understand. “Do you remember when you broke your first-place dance trophy by accident?”

Core’s lips curved into a faint pout. “Yes.”

“Do you remember what you did right after?”

She shook her head.

“You went into the kitchen for a go-gurt. When you found out Chris had eaten the last one, you yelled and said some mean things to him. But you weren’t really mad about the yogurt, were you? You were upset about breaking your trophy.”

Her little chin jutted forward. “No, Daddy. I really wanted that go-gurt.”

Spencer leveled her with a look, his eyes narrowing just enough to catch the sparkle of mischief in hers. “Cooore…”

Her lips twitched, giving her away. She looked down at her freshly polished nails, fiddling with her fingers. “Okay, Daddy. I was mad because I broke my trophy by accident.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Exactly. And that’s what Mommy did too. She was upset about something else, and she took it out on you and your brother. But she is very sorry. Do you think you can forgive her?”

Core pulled back, wiping her eyes as he offered her a napkin. After a moment, she nodded. “I can forgive Mommy.”

Pride swelled in him, and he gathered her into another giant hug. “That’s my Princess.”

She leaned into him, but then her tone shifted, a spark of mischief slipping back in.

“Daddy…”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Do you think Mommy could get me two more dolls? You know… to make it a complete family?” Her wide eyes and sugar-sweet smile nearly undid him.

Spencer raised a brow. “Sweetpea… are you trying to blackmail your Mommy?”

“No, Daddy.” She batted her lashes, all innocence. “I’m just negotiating.”

Spencer threw his head back with a boisterous laugh that turned a few café heads. He hugged her again, shaking his head in amusement. “That’s my girl.”

And with the heaviness of the moment softened by her playful spirit, father and daughter spent the rest of their day savoring tea, dolls, and each other’s company.

************************************************************************************************************************************************

DAVE & BUSTER’S

The moment they stepped inside Dave & Buster’s, the world seemed to come alive again. Bright neon lights pulsed across the walls, the hum of machines filled the air, and the clatter of tickets spitting out from prize counters echoed like music. Chris scanned the room with wide eyes, taking it all in before spotting an empty table. He immediately guided his mom toward it; concern etched into every step.

But Trina hesitated. Her knee still throbbed with every movement, but she wasn’t ready to sit down just yet. On the car ride over, she and Chris had managed a real conversation a rare, hopeful moment and she didn’t want that momentum to fade.

She glanced at the rows of glowing games, then back at her son. This is our chance, she thought.

“How about a friendly competition between mother and son?” she challenged with a mischievous tilt of her head.

Chris turned, his interest instantly piqued, but his protective instincts didn’t falter. “I don’t know, Mommy. It wouldn’t be fair for me to take advantage of you while you’re hurt. Maybe you should sit down.”

Trina grinned and folded her arms. “Chris, I’m fine. Well… fine enough to beat you at a few games.”

That made him pause. Then a sly smirk crept across his face, so familiar it nearly stole Trina’s breath. In that instant, he was Spencer’s mirror image. “What do you have in mind, Mommy?”

She shrugged casually. “Oh, I don’t know. Racecars? Motorbikes? Basketball? Air hockey? Whack-a-mole? The options are endless.” Then, narrowing her eyes in mock suspicion, she added, “Unless… you’re too chicken.”

Chris’ mouth dropped open. “Chicken?!”

Trina pressed her lips together to stifle her laugh. Hook, line, and sinker.

“Okay, it’s on, Mommy.” He extended his hand.

She shook it firmly. “May the best player win.”

Their first battle was air hockey. The puck ricocheted wildly as Chris dove for every shot, his tongue peeking out in concentration, while Trina is laughing so hard she nearly missed but managed to land a few sneaky points of her own. From there, the competition escalated: basketball hoops, racing games, and a heated round of whack-a-mole that had Chris dramatically accusing her of cheating.

The hours melted away in laughter and playful banter. They paused for food, sharing fries and a burger, before diving back into the games with renewed energy. Trina ignored the dull ache in her knee, fueled instead by the brightness in her son’s smile, a smile he rarely showed her.

By the end of the night, the ticket pile was enormous, but there was no denying the victor. Chris stood tall, grinning ear to ear as he turned in his hard-earned winnings at the prize counter. When he returned, he held a stuffed turtle in one hand and a teddy bear in the other.

“This is for you, Mommy.” He pressed the turtle into her hands and wrapped his arms around her.

Trina’s eyes softened, her heart squeezing. “Oh my God, baby, thank you so much. But you won this fair and square. Don’t you want to keep it for yourself?”

Chris shook his head, smiling. “Nope. You deserve it. You were a great opponent.”

Tears pricked her eyes as she hugged him tighter. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure! You can tell me anything, Mommy.”

“I am so happy we spent the day together… and between you and me? I really wanted this turtle.” She squeezed the stuffed animal with a playful grin.

Chris giggled, his eyes twinkling. “I know, Mommy.”

She blinked, tilting her head. “You know?”

“Yeah,” he said proudly. “When we go on vacations … whenever we see turtles at the beach, you always get excited. You love them.”

Trina’s breath caught. “Wow. I didn’t think you noticed.” Her hand slid into his curls, ruffling them gently. “You’re just as observant as your dad.”

And to her surprise, Chris didn’t stiffen or pull away. He leaned into her touch, smiling in a way that melted her from the inside out.

“Are you ready to go home?” she asked softly.

Chris nodded, his eyes heavy with contentment.

Trina stood, clutching the turtle close. This time, when she winced, Chris was already there, slipping under her arm like he had at the rink, steady and strong for someone so small. Together, they walked out, the glow of neon fading behind them, carrying with them the quiet victory of a day that had finally brought them closer.

************************************************************************************************************************************************

THE PENTHOUSE

Moonlight spilled through the tall windows of the penthouse, casting a warm glow across the living room. Spencer and Core were curled up on the couch, watching ‘Sing’ for what felt like the hundredth time. But Spencer didn’t mind. Core’s impressions especially her spot-on mimic of Rosita the pig were better than the film itself. She had a bright, sweet singing voice that carried through the room, and he found himself laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.

He cherished moments like this, simple, unguarded slices of life where the world fell away and he could rediscover his daughter all over again. She was growing into a beautiful young lady, sharp and quick-witted, but Spencer also recognized the quiet truth: unlike Chris, who wore his heart openly, Core held her emotions close, guarded like a little fortress. Spencer made a silent promise to himself, he’d keep checking in with her, keep giving her safe spaces, even if that meant more American Girl adventures.

The click of the front door lock echoed through the foyer, interrupting their laughter.

“Mommy! Chris!” Core jumped up with excitement. “You finally made it back.”

But the joy in her voice faltered when she noticed Trina limping into the room. “Mommy, what’s wrong?” she cried, alarm ringing through her tone.

Spencer’s focus snapped instantly. He and Core both popped up from the couch, but he was the first to reach her. Without hesitation, he swept Trina into his arms, carrying her back to the couch. His voice was sharp, fast, and laced with panic.

“Baby, what’s wrong? How did you hurt yourself? Why didn’t you call me? I should take you to the hospital.”

“Spencer,” Trina squeezed his hand gently, grounding him with her touch. “Honey, calm down. I’m fine.”

Chris trailed in behind them, head hung low, his sneakers scuffing the floor. His voice cracked as he spoke. “It was my fault, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

“Chris,” Trina interjected firmly, looking over at her son, “I told you already—you have nothing to be sorry for. It was an accident.”

Spencer glanced between them, his protective instincts on overdrive. “Can one of you please tell me what happened?”

“Seriously,” Core echoed with her hands on her hips, impatience bleeding through her worry.

Chris rolled his eyes at his sister’s commentary, then turned back to his dad. “We went skating, like you know.” Spencer nodded. “Some older kids were about to run into me, but Mommy pushed me out of the way. She collided with them instead… and fell.”

Core gasped. “Mommy, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, baby girl,” Trina reassured softly.

Chris pressed on, his words tumbling out faster now. “Then I went to get help, but Mommy was just sitting there laughing. Then I saw her knee was bleeding. I asked for a first aid kit, and the attendant came with it, but he tried to touch Mommy’s leg.” Chris’s eyes hardened. “There was no way I was going to let that guy touch my mommy.”

Spencer arched a brow but nodded with approval.

“So, I cleaned her cut and put a bandage on it myself,” Chris finished, his tone proud but rushed—rapid-fire, just like his father.

Spencer let out a low whistle. “Well, that was a lot.”

Chris’s pride crumbled almost instantly. His chin trembled as tears welled in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Daddy… I couldn’t keep my promise to protect Mommy.”

“Come here, son.”

Chris hesitated, then crossed the room. Spencer wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. “By all accounts, that was an accident. It couldn’t be your fault. You got Mommy help. You even patched her up. You did good.” His voice dropped, steady and reverent. “Thank you for protecting your mom… thank you for protecting my queen.”

Chris blinked hard, then melted into his father’s hug.

“I’m going to get you some ice for your knee, Mommy,” Core announced, springing into action. Chris quickly stood to join her, the siblings disappearing into the kitchen together.

Spencer sat beside Trina, his hand resting protectively on her knee, concern etched across his face. “Are you really okay? I know you have to play it down for the kids, but maybe we should go to the hospital. Chris mentioned you were laughing.”

Trina gave him a soft smile, her voice steady. “Trust me, honey, I’m fine. I just bruised my ego falling like that out there.” She let out a chuckle. “I had to laugh to keep from crying. Falling at this age is different. Trust me.”

Her laughter was contagious, and soon Spencer was laughing with her, shaking his head at her resilience.

Just then, the kids returned Core proudly carrying an ice pack and Chris carrying a bowl of ice cream.

“What is this?” Trina asked, surprised.

“Well,” Core said with a dramatic flair, “ice cream always makes me feel better, so I thought you might want some.”

Trina’s heart melted. “Thank you so much, baby girl.” She pulled Core close, and her daughter leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Good night, Mommy. I hope you feel better in the morning.” Core planted another kiss on her dad before bounding upstairs.

“Wait, Core!” Chris called out, hurrying after her. He pulled a small teddy bear from behind his back. “Here, this is for you.”

Her eyes lit up. “For me? Thanks, Chris!” She hugged her brother tight before scampering upstairs, clutching the bear. “I can’t wait until he meets the family!” she squealed, her voice fading as she disappeared into her room.

Chris turned back to his parents, handing Trina the stuffed turtle he had won earlier. He kissed them both on the cheek. “Good night, Mom. Good night, Dad.”

“Good night, son,” Spencer said warmly, his chest swelling with pride as he watched Chris head upstairs.

The couple waited until they heard both bedroom doors close before Spencer turned back to his wife.

“Honey, you are a genius.” Trina tried to sit up straighter, but the movement made her wince.

“See?” Spencer’s tone sharpened. “I knew it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

She caught his hand before he could stand. “No, Spencer. I’m just sore, I promise. No hospital needed. I had the best day with our son and by the looks of it, you managed to broker a peace treaty between Core and me.”

Spencer smirked. “Let’s just say you’re in negotiations.”

“I don’t care what it is,” Trina said earnestly. “She can have whatever she wants if it means I get my baby girl back.”

Spencer grinned, slipping into his playful tone. “Well, I’ll let my client know you’ve accepted her offer. But you’ll need to seal the deal.” He reached for her hand.

Instead of shaking, Trina tugged him down into a kiss.

He pulled back reluctantly, searching her face. “Trina, we can’t. Baby, you’re hurt.”

“Spencer, I’m fine. Trust me, I know my body.” She shifted slightly and immediately winced again.

Spencer gave her a pointed look. “Trust me, I know your body better than you do. And absolutely not. It’s not happening tonight.”

She let out a dramatic sigh. “You’re no fun.”

He chuckled, brushing a kiss against her lips. “Now, we both know that isn’t true.” This time, he kissed her deeper, slower, until her lips were flushed and her breath caught. When he finally pulled back, her mouth was slightly swollen from his touch. “That will have to hold you over until you’re back to normal. For now: hot bath, then bed.”

Without another word, he scooped her into his arms, rising easily as he started for the stairs.

Trina looped her arms around his neck, smirking. “You could do the heavy lifting tonight. Just how you like it.”

“It’s not happening,” he said firmly, though his eyes danced with amusement.

“How about if you only put—”

“Nope.” Spencer’s laugh rumbled in his chest as he climbed.

“Ten minutes?” she teased.

He shook his head.

“Five?”

Another firm shake.

“Four minutes?” she bargained, her final offer.

Spencer looked down at her with mock exasperation. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a terrible negotiator?” He kissed her forehead as they entered their bedroom. “Bath. Bed. End of discussion.”

And though she rolled her eyes, the small smile tugging at her lips said she didn’t mind losing this round.

Chapter Text

9 months, 17 days, 13 hours, and 28 minutes...

That’s how long it took, down to the minute, for Trina and Spencer’s lives to change forever.

The hospital room was quiet, except for the soft rustle of swaddling blankets and the faint beeping of machines in the background. Afternoon sunlight spilled through the blinds in slanted golden beams, casting a warm glow over the small family huddled together on the hospital bed.

Spencer sat beside Trina, their shoulders touching, their hands clasped as they stared in awe at the tiny bundle cradled in his arms. The baby had a soft dark curls, a perfect button nose, and a surprisingly firm grip for someone so new to the world. They hadn’t let anyone in yet. Not family, not friends. This moment...this quiet, sacred beginning was just for them.

But outside the door, anticipation buzzed like static in the air.

Portia, Curtis, Taggert, Nikolas, Ava, Joss, Chris, and Core, was the first to arrive. Each one buzzing with the same question on their minds—boy or girl? And what did they name the baby?

That had been kept secret from everyone. They finally stepped into the room, and a wave of oohs and aahs rippled through the crowd. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the announcement.

Cam would be the last to arrive, gently guided by his mom, Elizabeth, down the corridor. When Cam entered the room, Spencer stood up carefully, the baby still wrapped snuggly in his arms. He turned to face Cam, his expression soft but serious. All eyes were on Spencer.

“Thank you all for being here to celebrate the arrival of the newest Cassadine. Each of you has played a meaningful role in our journey, and your love, support, and unwavering presence have shaped our lives and the lives of our twins, in ways words can never truly express. As we welcome this new chapter, we hope you’ll continue to honor that same commitment, love, and guidance with our newest joy.” Trina and Spencer turned toward the twins, teary eyes with emotion, and gave them gentle, playful winks. Spencer continues, "Cam, you’ve been more than just a friend or cousin to me. You’ve been my brother through everything. And I can’t imagine doing this without you.”

Cam blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Spencer stepped closer, gently offering the baby into his arms.

“I want you to meet your goddaughter and niece. This is Camryn Aria Spencerina Cassadine,” as he made his way back to Trina's side.

The room collectively gasped.

Portia covered her mouth in stunned silence. Elizabeth looked like she might cry on the spot. Joss, for once, was rendered speechless.

Trina, ever composed, grinned as she leaned back against the pillows. “We got a little creative with the spelling... you know, just in case you decide to have your own little successor someday.”

Cam gazed down at the baby, his mouth slightly parted, arms instinctively cradling her, as though he’d done it a thousand times. And in a way, he had carried the quiet weight of years spent as an older brother and the twins' godfather, every moment with them etched deeply into his heart. “You’re... you’re both okay with this? I’m so honored.”

Spencer nodded. “Of course. If it wasn’t for you, she might not even be here.”

That comment made a few heads tilt in curiosity, but no one pressed.

Then Joss, who never could help herself, stepped forward with a smirk. “So does this mean the next baby’s going to be named after me?”

“No,” everyone replied in perfect sync.

Spencer didn’t stop there.

“Absolutely not,” he said, shaking his head like it was a matter of national security. “Not even if cars fly, or if you teach a crocodile the tango, or if the world...”

Trina cut him off with a pinch to the arm. “She gets it. We all get it.”

The room erupted with laughter everyone except Joss, who rolled her eyes dramatically and folded her arms.

Chris chimed in from the side, grinning. “Don’t forget Нет, Όχι, and いいえ.”

Core added, “아니요 and Non.”

Portia looked around, clearly confused. “Wait... what just happened?”

Cam laughed softly, his eyes never leaving the baby in his arms. “What just happened,” he murmured, “is something pretty incredible.”

The group quieted again, just for a moment. Liz stepped forward and gently touched her son’s shoulder. “She’s perfect,” she whispered. “Just like her name.”

And for a beat, everything else faded, the past, the noise, the unknowns waiting outside those hospital doors. All that mattered was right here: new life, deep roots, and the strange, beautiful family they’d all become.

Trina arched a brow and gave her twins a pointed look; arms folded across her chest. “Those,” she said with exaggerated patience, “are ways of saying no in different languages.”

Nikolas and Spencer, locked eyes with the twins, watching with thinly veiled amusement. Then a shared glance passed between father and son, half pride, half nostalgia. This was the next generation of Cassadine chaos, and they were thriving.

“That was Russian, Greek, and Japanese, Grandma,” Chris said matter-of-factly.

“Plus, Korean and French,” added Core, holding up a hand and ticking off imaginary checkmarks like a scholar defending her thesis.

Portia couldn’t help but smile, shaking her head in awe. “That’s amazing, babies.”

Nearby, Liz turned toward Cam, who had gone oddly quiet. A single tear traced down his cheek, followed by another. She stepped closer and gently wiped his face with the sleeve of her cardigan.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Cam nodded, voice choked with emotion. “She’s so beautiful,” he whispered. “I love her so much already. I’m going to teach her everything I know about music. Piano, guitar, drums... all of it. She’s going to have the voice of an angel. She’s my favorite baby girl.”

Across the room, Spencer and Trina shared a quiet, knowing look. In Cam’s eyes, they saw the affirmation of everything they’d hoped for when they named him godfather. The love, the loyalty, it was all there.

“Well, I don’t know about her playing the drums,” Spencer said with a half-smile, trying to hold back emotion with humor.

Trina nudged him playfully. “Babe, I think you’ve got some competition.”

“I thought I was your favorite, Uncle Cam,” Core said suddenly, her little voice cutting through the warmth like a scratch dropping in the middle of a spinning record as she approached Cam.

The room went still. Every adult paused, unsure of how Cam would answer.

But Cam didn’t miss a beat. He leaned down and kissed the top of Core’s head.

“You are my favorite big girl.”

Core’s face lit up like a sunrise. “Yay! I’m still Uncle Cam’s favorite!”

She spun around and skipped to Spencer. “Did you hear that, Daddy?”

Spencer laughed and nodded. “I did, Sweetpea.”

“You’re my favorite daddy,” she said proudly, raising her arms and Spencer lifted her into a warm hug as a chorus of “Awwww” swept across the room.

Trina, Taggert, Joss, and Chris all exchanged mock eyerolls.

Spencer feels an arm tug. “Daddy, it’s not fair,” Chris said with a serious frown that only made his round little face look even more adorable.

Spencer raised an eyebrow. “What’s not fair, Prince?”

Chris folded his arms. “Now there’s more of them than us.”

Laughter erupted from every corner of the room. Even Liz snorted behind her hand.

Spencer crouched down to Chris’s level and extended his fist. “Don’t worry, son. I got you.”

Chris bumped his tiny fist into his father’s. Cam locked eyes with Spencer and struggled to contain his laughter, shoulders trembling.

Trina looked between the two with mock suspicion. “Okay, what exactly is going on here?”

Neither of them answered. They just smiled.

Trina let out a long, soft yawn, blinking slowly as she looked around the hospital room filled with laughter, love, and just a touch of chaos. Her eyelids fluttered, heavy with exhaustion, though she tried to hide it.

“Alright, guys,” Liz said gently, stepping forward with a knowing smile, “I think it’s time Mommy got some rest.”

“I’m okay,” Trina replied, shaking her head a little, trying to stay present. “I was actually wondering... where are the kids staying tonight?”

Chris didn’t miss a beat. “I’m going with Pau Pau!” he announced proudly, throwing his arms into the air like he’d just won a prize.

"That's my boy," said Taggert as they high-fived once Chris approached him.

Core, sitting cross-legged on a nearby chair, tapped her index finger thoughtfully against her chin, clearly deep in deliberation. “Hmm... I think I’ll go to Wyndemere with Granddad and Grandma Ava. That way, I get to hang out with Avery.”

Portia placed a hand on her hip, mock offended. “Hey now—what am I? Chopped liver?”

Core giggled. “No, Grandma. But you’re always at the hospital or getting called away to the hospital. And Grandpa isn't great at tea parties.”

Curtis raised a brow and placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded. “Hey now!”

“Grandpa, you are good at video games, though,” Core added sweetly, and Chris nodded in agreement from across the room.

Curtis grinned. “Okay, I’ll take it.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ava said gently, walking over and crouching down to Core’s level. “I don’t think Avery will be coming over tonight.”

“She told me she would,” Core insisted, her tiny hands on her hips.

“You talked to Avery?” Ava asked, surprised.

“Yes. And she’s going to call Donna to come over too,” Core replied with casual certainty, like a miniature event planner arranging her evening social calendar.

Spencer chuckled and leaned against the wall. “Avery checks in all the time especially with Core. They have their own line of communication.”

“Well,” Portia said, half-laughing as she shook her head, “I guess Wyndemere it is.”

Core squealed with excitement, grabbing Ava’s hand and running over to her granddad. “Yay! Sleepover!”

Ava and Nikolas smiled indulgently as they scooped her up.

Spencer watched the scene unfold with a fond smile, then turned back toward Trina only to find tears brimming in her eyes. She blinked quickly, but a few slipped down her cheeks anyway.

He stepped closer, instantly concerned. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Trina sniffled, brushing her cheek. “It’s nothing... I’m happy, I swear. It’s just... I think I lost my baby.”

The room quieted in an instant. Everyone turned to her, confusion painted across their faces.

Spencer tilted his head. “Are you... talking about our daughter that Cam is holding? Because she’s definitely accounted for.”

Trina shot him a look, half exasperated, half heartbroken. “No, you idiot. I mean Chris used to be my baby. And Core was always yours. We had a good system—we’d switch back and forth. But now, Chris is all about Pau Pau. Core still has you. And Cam has Cami.”

She paused, her voice catching. “So, who’s gonna be my baby?”

A beat passed. Then Spencer sat beside her, pulling her into his arms.

“You’re not losing them, Trina,” he whispered into her hair. “They’re just growing up. That means loving more people and spreading their wings. You taught them how to do that.”

Cam looked over from where he cradled the newborn. “And she’ll be yours. Just wait. You’ll always be her safe place.”

Chris peeked up from the tablet he’d been pretending not to play with. “You can still brush my hair Mommy.”

Core ran back across the room, arms open. “And I’ll give you a hug before bed every night. You’re always my Mommy.”

Trina laughed softly through her tears, as Chris made his way to her and she hugs both of them when they reached her.

Spencer rested his forehead against hers. “See? You didn’t lose anything. You're stuck with all that love.”

“And if that's not enough, I’ll be your baby,” Spencer murmured, brushing a tender kiss to Trina’s forehead.

A warm aww rippled through the room like a gentle wave, everyone melted at the moment... everyone except Joss, who folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat, “can I at least hold my goddaughter before I leave?”

A hush fell over the room.

Spencer exchanged a look with Trina, then turned toward Joss with a gentle smile. “Actually… we decided to make Emma her godmother.”

Cam’s eyes widened. “Emma? Emma Scorpio-Drake?”

Liz smirked knowingly, watching the tension rise like steam off hot water.

“Emma lives across the country,” Joss pointed out, clearly caught off guard. “And she doesn’t even know Trina.”

“Actually,” Trina said, sitting up a little straighter, “we do know each other. We’ve gotten really close over the last few months. Her mom, Robin has given me so many helpful tips during my pregnancy.”

“You’ve spoken to Robin?” Liz asked, her surprise softening into genuine warmth.

“Yes,” Trina nodded. “Also, her dad, Patrick, and her brother Noah. He’s actually bonded with Chris during our FaceTime calls. We’re planning a trip out to see them soon.”

“That’s amazing,” Liz said, her eyes misting. “Please send them my love.”

“You could just come with us,” Spencer offered easily. “Whenever you’re free. Long weekend, vacation it doesn’t matter. That’s what the jet is for.”

Liz laughed. “In that case, I will be taking you up on that offer.”

“Emma’s flying out in a few days to meet her godchild,” Trina added. “I was hoping Cam could give her some tips on how to be a great godparent.”

Cam hesitated. “I… haven’t spoken to Emma in years. I don’t even have her number anymore.”

Spencer reached into his pocket for his phone. “Don’t worry I’ll send it to you.”

Liz caught Spencer’s eye and mouthed, "thank you." He blushed slightly but nodded in return.

Cam gave a small smile and looked down at the baby in his arms. “Okay,” he said softly, and handed the newborn back to Trina, who received her with a sleepy smile and another yawn.

“Alright,” Portia said gently, sensing it was time. “Let’s get going. Mommy needs some rest.”

The kids rushed forward giving their parents and baby sister kisses, their giggles filling the room as the family began to take their leave one by one.

Joss lingered at the door.

“Are you still mad at me?” she asked, voice quiet. “Is that why you didn’t want me to be Cami’s godmother?”

Spencer looked at Trina, and Trina gave him a subtle nod.

“It’s not about that,” Spencer said honestly. “Emma and I reconnected, and during the pregnancy, she became someone Trina really leaned on. Our kids love her. Trina does too. This gives Emma even more reasons to visit and maybe even move back someday. More than just her grandparents being here. ”

“That doesn’t change how much you’ve stepped up,” Trina added. “For both Chris and Core. And we see that. We value that. This wasn’t about punishing anyone. It was about honoring someone who supported this part of the journey.”

Joss nodded slowly, blinking back emotion. “Okay… I get it. Thanks for saying that.”

"Hey Joss!" Spencer said softly. “You’re not losing anything. You’ll always be part of our village. You’re the twin's godmother and you'll be Cami's Auntie Joss.”

Joss swallowed hard, her voice catching. “Thank you,” she whispered, nodding. Then, after a long pause, she added, “There’s one more thing I’ve always wondered… Did you have anything to do with Miguel losing his job? I’ve wanted to ask for a while, but I was afraid.”

Trina blinked, stunned. “Seriously, Joss? You think now, right after I gave birth is the appropriate time to bring that up?” Her voice was sharp, incredulous.

Joss looked down, ashamed, but didn’t take it back.

Spencer tilted his head, calm and unreadable. “I don’t know anyone by that name,” he said coolly.

Joss smiled faintly and turned to go, pausing to glance back one more time. “She’s beautiful. You both did good.”

And with that, she slipped out the door, leaving Spencer and Trina alone with their daughter, hearts full, arms fuller, and the quiet finally settling around them like a well-earned peace.

The silence that followed was heavy. Trina scoffed and looked at Spencer. “Can you believe her? After everything?”

Spencer gently rubbed her arm. “Don’t get worked up. You need rest, babe. Daddy’s new princess is going to be very demanding.”

“Oh?” Trina raised a brow. “You know something I don’t?”

Spencer grinned. “Of course. Between me, Cam, Emma, and Core? This girl is going to be spoiled rotten and that's only the short list.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on Camryn’s tiny forehead. “It’s already started.”

Trina smiled, watching him, her heart softening again. “I meant what I said earlier,” she murmured.

Spencer looked up, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

Trina shifted, careful not to jostle the baby. “I want another one. A baby that’s just mine. I mean Cam is already claiming Cami,” she joked lightly, “and the twins were raised so close together… They’ll be eight next month. That’s a big gap. I don’t want her growing up like an only child.”

A spark flickered in Spencer’s eyes, then bloomed into something brighter. “Your wish,” he said, lowering his voice, “is my command, beautiful.”

Trina giggled and tilted her chin up, silently inviting a kiss. Spencer didn’t hesitate. The kiss was soft at first, deepening with a heat that reminded them both of everything they’d built together and everything still to come.

When they finally pulled away, breathless but smiling, Trina raised an eyebrow. “I guess six weeks isn’t that long.”

Spencer smirked, already flushed. “Six weeks it is.”

Trina gave him a playful look. “Let’s make it four.”

Spencer’s mouth dropped slightly in mock shock before he burst into laughter, nodding in agreement. “Deal.”

As they leaned into each other once more, Camryn nestled peacefully between them, the quiet room now filled with the promise of more memories, more laughter, and at least one more baby.

Chapter Text

LIZ HOUSE

The scent of coffee and the distant hum of the blow dryer filtered through the upstairs hallway as Liz called down from her bedroom.

“Aiden, can you please call your brother for me? I need to finish getting ready for work!”

From the bottom of the stairs, Aiden cupped his hands and yelled back, “I did, Mom! I told Jake to rush over—he has to see this.”

Upstairs, Liz exhaled sharply. “Not Jake! Call Cam, please!”

“Okay, okay,” Aiden muttered. “I’ll call him... after Jake gets here.”

A few minutes later, the front door opened, and Jake stepped inside, breathless and wide-eyed.

“You saw it, right?” Aiden said, barely able to contain a grin.

Jake only nodded, still too stunned to speak. Aiden took that as his cue and finally dialed Cam.

Cam picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Aiden. What’s going on? Is Mom, ok?”

“She’s fine,” Aiden said casually. “She can’t move her car.”

“What? Why doesn’t she call Jake or a mechanic? He’s always working on bikes.”

“Bikes, not cars,” Jake muttered loudly from the living room.

“And she’s gotta get to work,” Aiden added.

Cam sighed. “Tell her to grab an Uber. I’ll swing by and check it out later—”

Before he could finish, there was a rustling sound and his mom’s voice cut in, firm and final.

“Cam, honey, please come now. No arguments.”

Then she hung up.

Cam stared at his phone for a beat. “Well, okay then,” he mumbled to himself as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

When Cam pulled up to his mom’s house, he spotted his mom, Jake, and Aiden all standing outside in the driveway. They weren’t waving or calling his name—they were just... watching him.

Something felt off.

Cam squinted. “Why are they all waiting for me?”

Then his eyes landed on the car. He blinked once. Then again.

Parked in the driveway, completely blocking his mom’s car, was a Ferrari. Not just any Ferrari a sleek, custom blue one, the exact same color as his eyes. A massive red bow was fastened on the hood like something out of a car commercial. Cam eased his car to the curb and stepped out slowly.

The closer he got, the more unreal it felt. The paint shimmered in the morning light. The windows were tinted dark, but the interior gleamed through the windshield, an immaculate, all-white design, untouched and flawless.

He walked around it, in awe. “No way…”

Liz stepped forward, holding a small box. Her eyes were soft, emotional.

“This is for you, sweetheart,” she said, offering it to him.

Cam opened the lid. Inside were two key fobs and a handwritten note.

"I always keep my promises. Your princess awaits, and now you can arrive in-style, in your new chariot." Love, Spencer.

Cam let out a stunned laugh. “He really did it. Oh my God… I can’t believe him.”

Jake whistled low. “Dude. What did you do that Spencer gifted you a Ferrari?”

Aiden piped up, “Think he could get me one too?”

Liz gave Aiden a sharp side-eye. He raised his hands in surrender.

Cam looked back at his mom. “You knew about this?”

“Only that Spencer said he was sending something for you,” she said. “He made me promise you'd get it the moment it arrived.”

Cam looked at the key fobs in his hand, then back at the car. “I need to call him. This is insane. Mom… isn’t this too much?”

Liz smiled gently. “Not when it comes to Spencer. Whatever you did for him, whatever moment you shared, it had a deep impact. He sees you like a brother. I wouldn’t turn that kind of love away. I think it’d hurt him.”

Cam nodded slowly, his chest tight with emotion. He glanced once more at the shining blue car, then laughed under his breath.

“Of course, Spencer wouldn’t just send a gift—he sends a statement.”

Liz clapped her hands and pointed to the driveway. “Now, baby, I need to get to work. And your fancy toy is blocking me in.”

Jake and Aiden perked up.

“Can we take it for a spin?” they both asked in unison.

Cam smirked. “Nope. But you can take Mom to work in my truck.” He tossed the keys to Aiden. “Drive safe.”

Liz leaned in and kissed Cam on the cheek. “Thanks, honey.”

As she and the boys headed to the truck, Cam turned back toward the Ferrari. The light glinted off the chrome as if winking at him.

He slipped the key fob into his pocket, a quiet smile curving his lips.

“Spencer,” he whispered, shaking his head. “You really don’t do anything halfway.”

Chapter Text

THE PENTHOUSE

Sunlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains of the Cassadine penthouse. Trina sat curled into the corner of the couch, gently nursing baby Camryn against her chest. Her expression was calm but weary, the quiet fatigue of new motherhood settling in her bones. Across from her, Chris and Core were bickering again. This time over what to watch on TV.

“Shrek!” Chris insisted.

“No way, that’s for babies,” Core argued, clutching the remote.

Just as Chris opened his mouth to fire back, Cami began to fuss. Her tiny cry broke through the twin standoff like a siren. Both of them paused and turned toward their baby sister.

“Don’t cry,” they said in perfect unison, their earlier quarrel forgotten as concern crept onto their faces.

From the kitchen, Spencer entered with a tray of smoothies balanced effortlessly in one hand. He handed drinks off to the twins with practiced ease and zero fanfare.

“Aww, what’s the matter, buttercup?” he said, his voice low and comforting.

Trina shifted, trying to soothe their daughter, but Cami remained fussy, her tiny fists curling in protest.

Without missing a beat, Spencer reached out and scooped the baby from Trina’s arms. He placed her gently against his chest, his hand moving in slow, steady circles on her back. Within moments, Cami quieted, her little head nestled peacefully beneath his chin.

Trina looked up, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “How do you always do that?” she asked, adjusting her top and pulling herself upright. “You’ve got the magic touch.”

Spencer gave her a crooked grin. “Years of practice, mama.”

Just then, his phone buzzed on the table. Trina picked it up and glanced at the screen. Her smile brightened. “It’s Cam,” she said, and answered. “Hey, Cam! What’s new?”

Cam’s voice came through the speaker, warm and teasing. “Hey, T. How are you feeling since leaving the hospital? Is my favorite girl keeping you up yet?”

“She’s been a handful today, but her dad’s got her under control. You should come visit. I know she’d love to see you.”

“I can’t wait.” There was a short pause. “Hey, is Spencer around? I really need to talk to him.”

“Absolutely. Love you—see you soon.”

“Love you too, T.”

Trina handed the phone to Spencer, who took it with one hand while keeping the other securely around Cami.

“Hey, Townie!" Silence. "Cam, are you there?” He sits down on the couch.

Cam’s voice came through softer now. Somber. “Yeah… I just… I don’t even know what to say. I never expected any of this.”

Spencer nodded slowly, understanding. “It’s okay. Like the card said I made a promise, and I keep my word. What you did for us… it changed everything. Helped us get our family back. That car? It’s just metal and paint. You—you’re priceless.”

There was a pause, then Cam’s voice cracked slightly with emotion. “You know I love you, man. All of you. This family means everything to me.”

“I know,” Spencer said. “And we love you just as much.”

He glanced at Trina, who gave him a small nod of encouragement.

“I was supposed to pick up Emma from the airport later,” Spencer continued, “but I was hoping you could cover for me—do me a solid. I’ll text you the info.”

Cam chuckled. “Yeah, I got you. Least I can do, considering you just gave me the ultimate gift. Maybe we’ll stop by after I grab her?”

Spencer leaned back against the couch. “Actually, how about you two get a meal? Catch up. Take the night. Show her around.”

“Wait… has Emma said something to you?”

Spencer laughed. “Nope. But she just got back, and I’m sure she’d appreciate a little downtime. A quiet evening. Port Charles has changed a bit since she left. Be her tour guide. Tomorrow, you two can come by together.”

Cam was quiet, then laughed. “Together, huh? Smooth, Cassadine. Real smooth.”

Spencer smirked. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow. Love you, man.”

“Love you too.”

The call ended, and Trina leaned in, her eyes dancing. “Aww… you’re playing cupid now? My husband the romantic.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he turned into it, smiling.

“Ewwww,” the twins groaned in unison from across the room.

“Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!” Trina said exaggeratedly, kissing Spencer a few more times just to mess with them. Spencer played along, grinning between kisses.

“You two figured out what we’re watching yet?” he asked, finally pulling back.

“No,” Core huffed. “Everything Chris picks is for babies.”

“Let’s watch Shrek,” Chris insisted again. “It’s a classic.”

Spencer raised a brow. “I’m down for some Donkey. What do you think, wife?”

“I think it sounds perfect.”

“Ok! We’ll get the snacks!” the twins shouted, dashing off to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, the living room was filled with laughter. The TV flickered with green ogres and a talking donkey, and the twins sat shoulder to shoulder, howling at the screen. Trina sat curled beside Spencer, baby Cami cradled peacefully in his arms.

She watched them all—her husband, her twins, her newborn. The room was full of light and warmth, but a quiet tear slid down her cheek. A shiver passed through her as she realized just how close she had come to losing it all, how a reckless challenge could’ve shattered everything. Camryn might not have even existed.

Spencer glanced over and caught her wiping her cheek. “Babe? You, okay? Or is it hormones?”

She didn’t answer—just reached for him, her hand curling around the back of his neck, pulling him close. She kissed him deeply, pouring every ounce of gratitude and love into that one moment.

When she finally pulled away, Spencer looked stunned. His face flushed.

“What was that for?” he asked, a little breathless.

She smiled. “Three weeks and four days.”

That was all she said. But he understood.

The twin's moment later promptly piled themselves between their parents. And so began another perfectly imperfect Cassadine movie night or rather day, wrapped in laughter, love, and a peace none of them took for granted.