Prompt #13 by adrift_writer: Somehow Donna thinks Harvey cheated on her (he actually didn't, but there are compromising pictures of him with someone else) and Harvey has until Christmas to convince Donna he didn't do it if he wants to spend Christmas with his wife (and maybe children?). It is up to the author who took the pics and sent them to Donna.

Prompt #36 by ahsleyann: Pure angst and action. It's Christmas (obviously) and Harvey might be out buying some last things or something and Donna (and maybe their child) gets hurt after someone from their past goes after her (maybe Stanley or Forstman or Gallo). He does not deal well with it. [obviously happy ending haha]. Would love if Machel make an appearance. I would say canon, but wouldn't be opposed to having it be canon-diverging (as in maybe they got together before they really did or after TOT…).

...

Donna stretches in bed, yawning as a pair of arms wrap securely around her waist. She smiles, rolling into Harvey's side and burying her head in his chest.

He chuckles, sliding his palm up the arch of her back, and stroking the soft satin negligee she's wearing. "Morning."

"How long have you been up?" she mumbles, still groggy with sleep as she yawns into the cotton of his t-shirt.

"Not long." He presses a kiss against her hair, trying to disguise the fib, because he's actually been awake for a while. He's tired and exhausted, too. And his head flops back as he steals a moment to bask in the silence.

Eleven months ago he and Donna shared their first peaceful and uneventful Christmas in Seattle alongside Mike and Rachel. This year, however, he can't barely remember what tranquility feels like. His wife is continually drained. He spends half his working day wishing he was somewhere else. And perfect no longer exists. Or at least not the neat boxed up version he used to live in. Now he would describe his life more like beautiful chaos, and he smiles to himself, because he's never been happier.

"Maddy?"

Donna's question slurs against his chest, and he summons the energy to lazily dance his fingers through her strands of hair. "I checked on her. She's fine." He doesn't mention that he also did a load of laundry, made breakfast, and tidied up before slipping back in bed. No one told him how much havoc a two-year-old could wreak, but then again, in true Paulsen-Specter style, they didn't take the conventional route to becoming new parents. There were no books or classes, or researching ways to manage their time. There wasn't even a pregnancy. Just a little girl who needed a home. Madeleine Clare Rose, now Madeleine Clare Paulsen-Specter, came into their lives unexpectedly four months ago, and it hasn't been the easiest transition, but he wouldn't trade the chaos for anything.

"Okay." Donna pulls herself away with a groan, squeezing his arm affectionately. "How long have you really been up?"

He shrugs, knowing he wouldn't be able to hide his productivity for long. "I made breakfast, did some laundry. That's all." Her gaze swims with guilt, but she has nothing to feel bad about. She's the one working from home and looking after a toddler five days a week. "Taking care of you is my job, too, remember?"

Warmth flutters across her cheeks at the earnest comment. But instead of awarding him points, she snorts. "You're just trying to show me up."

He grins. Even if he wanted to, he could never make her look bad, but that doesn't stop him teasing her. "We were together for over a decade before I married you, Donna. I wasn't expecting Martha Stewart."

"Hey." She picks up a pillow, whacking him with the corner. "We can't all be expected to know how to make Duck Pâté en Croûte." He gleams up at her, and she rolls her eyes surrendering the cushion. After all, he does have a point. She isn't exactly the Goddess of Domesticity. Being a stay at home/work from home mom isn't the life she saw herself living, but when the time came to go back to the office, she and Harvey didn't feel right hiring a nanny. They agreed he would go into the firm Mondays to Thursdays, and she would be there Fridays and Saturdays. But she's barely keeping up with the workload, and she sinks back down with a sigh. "How long do we have?"

"About seven minutes," he estimates, recalling a time not so long ago when he would have utilized every spare second in bed with his wife.

"I didn't imagine this," she admits, a lazy smile spilling across her lips. The thought of them raising a family together only ever fleeting crossed her mind when they video called Lucy or Harvey's niece and nephew. But they each fell in love with Madeline the moment they met her, and the decision to adopt her was never a question.

He knows exactly what his wife means, and he chuckles. "School starts in a couple of years. We can have sex then."

"Think you can wait that long?" she asks, turning her head with a smirk.

"Definitely not." He rumbles a low laugh as he rolls on top of her. Their routine still needs some work and absolutely more debortuous activities, but they're slowly getting the hang of things, and he grins. "I'm glad we did this." He tucks his arm underneath her waist, not caring that they both have morning breath as he kisses her.

She arches herself up, craving the touch of his hands, when a squeak from the baby monitor pulls them apart.

"Do-bba."

Harvey collapses on top of her, and she reaches for the device with a smile. "I'll be right there, Maddy."

She feels every ounce of Harvey's groan, wishing they had a few more minutes to themselves. She misses him. But adjustments take time. And the reward, they're daughter, is already infinitely worth the sacrifices.

Mike wanders into Harvey's office, a smirk lifting his expression as he drops in the chair opposite his partner. "Ms. Beale called again."

Harvey groans. Catherine is the financial advisor of her father's business, a sustainable energy enterprise he and Mike are trying to bring in as a client. Unfortunately, Catherine's methods of negotiation have little to do with business, and more to do with flirting and fawning all over him. "Let me guess, dinner this time?"

Mike chuckles at the irony of his friend's reaction. When he first met Harvey, the man was a lothario who couldn't keep his hands to himself. Now he's the exact opposite. Married, madly in love, and a father—who has no idea how to reject advances from beautiful women without being ignorant or hostile. Harvey would move heaven and earth for his family, but the man's still a lawyer, and Mike needs him to be a shark, not pouting around in his office. "I know you don't want to hear this—"

"You're right, I don't," Harvey agrees. He's tried to be polite, flashed his wedding band multiple times at Catherine to no avail, and he refuses to be used as bait on a hook. "I thought the whole point of this place was dealing above board."

"It is." Mike taps his hand against the armrest of his chair. He's not asking Harvey to do anything illicit. But like it or not, Harvey's 'charm' could land them a big advantage in winning over the company's CEO and Catherine's father, Richard Beale. "This isn't about the money," he reminds Harvey. "Closing Beale industries means protecting their technology and making the world a slightly better place for kids like Madeline to grow up in. Isn't that worth one awkward dinner?"

Harvey rolls his eyes, starting to wish he hadn't taught Mike the art of manipulation. Or in the very least, wishing he'd made the kid sign a waiver stating Mike would never turn those tactics around on him. "Fine," he grumbles, leaning back in his chair, and cocking an eyebrow. "You do know charging me out makes you my pimp, and I'm doubling my hourly rate."

Mike snots a laugh. "Only one problem with that," he says, standing up. "Donna's the one pimping you out. She made the reservation. I'm just the messenger."

He shrugs, leaving the room, and Harvey isn't at all surprised Donna still has her finger on the pulse of everything going on. Smiling to himself, he picks up his phone, texting his wife to tell her he'll be late and smirking when she responds, telling him to play nice. Not every woman would be comfortable with their husband going off to schmooze a female client, but he learned a long time ago that Donna isn't like anyone else. The trust between them is unshakable, and his wife is nothing short of remarkable. Which is why, when the hours of the day roll by far too quickly, he doesn't bother changing his tie or putting in any effort other than straightening his suit in the bathroom on his way out.

He wants this dinner over as quickly as possible.

Because it's Seattle, not NYC, he opens the app to ping an Uber. A driver didn't seem like a necessary hire, overly extravagant and slightly hypocritical given he works for the little guy now. He never envisioned himself living without high-end luxuries, because he used to repel the idea of dreams, focusing on goals instead. But Donna showed him there's more to life, although he still tilts his expensive Rolex to check the time, and his wife still has a collection of shoes that highlight her calves, putting even Heidi Klum's long legs to shame.

When the Uber pulls up, he jumps in, smiling to himself. Just last week Donna thrust a pair of ruined Jimmy Choo's in his face, bright orange finger paint staining the navy blue silk. He'd marveled at how amusement had shined through her exhaustion, and he'd taken her in his arms, promising the sacrifice wasn't in vain. Her laugh had tickled his neck with peppery kisses, and he craves the sound now, wishing he was at home, not listening to the hum of carols and Christmas music on the radio.

It's not that he minds the holiday season. He used to be cynical about Hallmark cards and gift giving, but Christmas has a new meaning for him now. Decorating their tree with Madeline, holding his daughter while Donna arranged every bauble with decisive precision is a memory that lightens his mood. And he tries to hold onto the feeling when he's dropped at his location.

Inside, the lobby of the restaurant is lit with festive lights, and he finds Catherine waiting for him by a large silver and gold tree. He smiles, hoping the gesture seems sincere. "Catherine, you look lovely tonight."

She gleams giddily at the compliment. "Thank you, Mr. Specter. You're rather dashing yourself."

"Harvey, please." Even though he would prefer to keep things formal, he knows there's a lot riding on tonight, and he motions his arm towards the door. "Shall we?"

He pulls it open for her, his palm hovering behind her back as they're greeted and led to their table. He pulls out Catherine's chair, catching a whiff of wine on her breath as she stumbles into the seat. Rather than comment on the slip, he sits down across from her, his jaw already starting to ache as he forces another smile.

"You know, Harvey, I was starting to think you were avoiding me." She brushes the tips of her fingers through her pristine hair, arching her brow.

"Now, why would you think that?" He slides her over the menu, and takes his own, searching for a distraction.

"You tell me." She pouts as his gaze drops to the item in his hand and extends her heel beneath the table.

He tenses at the bold display as her foot slides up his calf, and he thrusts his hand under the table pushing it down. He isn't sure how the hell Mike expects him to go the whole night being demure, but he definitely didn't agree to being objectified in public. "I'm married, Catherine," he reminds her tersely.

She shrugs, not deterred by his disinterest. "Some rules are meant to be broken."

"And some aren't." He opens the menu, ready to put the subject to bed, when she leans across the table, shoving her cleavage in his face.

"Come on." She tempts him with a seductive smile, brushing his wrist with her fingers. "I won't tell if you won't."

"That's it." He wrenches his arm back, no longer caring how important the deal is. He's not selling his soul or disrespecting Donna to make a close."If cheating on my wife is a deal breaker, you can tell Richard we're rescinding our offer."

He stands up, and she shoots out her hand to stop him "Wait. I'm sorry… I—"

Tears well in her gaze, and she buries her face in her palms, trying not to draw too much attention. "This isn't me. My husband ran off with his secretary. We're going through a divorce, and I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

Her voice trembles, her shoulders quivering, and Harvey reaches for the water on the table, pouring her a glass. "Here."

She hiccups, taking a sip and swallowing it down. "You must really love your wife. I'm sorry. I understand if you want to leave."

He glances at the door, but a tug of sympathy keeps him from moving towards it. "Why don't we start again?" he offers.

"I'd really like that." She takes a deep breath as he sits back down. "You're a good man, Harvey. Your wife is very lucky."

"I'm just sorry your soon to be ex-husband is an asshole." The joke hits its mark and she laughs, his shoulders starting to relax.

...

To Harvey's surprise, after their rough start to dinner, the evening goes better than expected. When Catherine isn't trying to settle a score with her husband, she's a wealth of information, knowing everything about Beale Industries from polices through to their investments and finances. One or two times he almost wished he had Louis by his side, but his talent is closing clients, and he'd managed to do just that, with Catherine promising her father would sign tomorrow.

He returns from paying the cheque, feeling relieved, and he'll admit, a little cocky as he ushers Catherine outside. But as they come down the stairs she trips, and he catches her arm, worried as he steadies her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she giggles, taking his hand as he helps her down the last two steps. "Must be that wine."

She wobbles forward on her heels, and he keeps his palm at the base of her spine feeling a tinge of guilt rear up. He suggested they forgo more wine, but she insisted, and up until now she didn't seem affected by the alcohol.

"Let me find you an Uber," he says, stopping her to pull out his phone, but she stumbles again, and he latches both hands on to waist, genuinely concerned by her glassy gaze. He's about to suggest she sits down for a moment, but without warning she cups his face and kisses him deeply. Shock riles inside him, and he recoils at the unwelcome intrusion. "What the hell are you doing!?" He pushes her back, watching her gaze widen in shock.

"I-I'm sorry," she slurs, swiping her face. "I thought—"

"You thought wrong," he barks, pulling out his phone. "Here, put in your address." He's livid with her, but he isn't going to leave her staggering around drunk and vulnerable. Who knows what kind of trouble she'll land herself in.

Her hands tremble as she takes the device, typing in the location of her apartment. "I'm so sorry, Harvey. I mean it. I don't know what I was thinking."

He scrubs his face, knowing he's more likely to salvage the deal if he musters some compassion. He isn't happy, but moving forward he'll be dealing mostly with Richard, and he takes the phone back, swallowing his pride. "It was a mistake."

She nods, and he sighs as he moves closer, helping her so she doesn't trip over herself on the way to the Uber. When the car arrives, he piles her inside, her head lolling against the back seat.

He closes the door, ordering a separate ride for himself. He did everything Mike asked, and in the light of day, he hopes it will be enough. Because now he has to decide how much of the evening to relay to Donna. A few months ago the story probably would have sent her into a fit of giggles, but at the moment, his job is to try and make her life easier, not riddle her mind with unnecessary doubt.

When the car pulls up, he climbs in, deciding Donna has a right to know what happened, but when he arrives home the place is dark and quiet. He finds her in their bedroom, sleeping with the baby monitor nestled under her arm, and he doesn't have the heart to wake her, smiling to himself as he carefully wriggles the device free. She deserves some undisturbed rest, and he goes to sit in Madeline's bedroom, lumping himself in the armchair next to his daughter's cot.

When there's time, he'll fill Donna in about his night, but for now, his family is happy, healthy and safe.

He can't ask for more than that.

...

Chapter 2

Donna isn't the kind of person who regrets her choices. At her core, she's always been a risk taker. Maybe she doesn't roll the dice as brazenly as Harvey, but his ability to analyze, fix, and move on is something she was drawn to even before they met.

But Harvey isn't here. Because even though they've tried to stick to their arrangement where he's at home on Fridays, his job takes precedence over hers. She's not angry. He has clients and relationships he needs to maintain, but when she glances down from her laptop after trying to put out fires she's supposed to be in the office dealing with, she sees the mess Madeline created eating strawberries on their brand new rug.

She sighs in frustration—and amusement. This is why they put a baby gate around the Christmas tree. Because if they hadn't, she's certain every bauble within reach would be coated in something sticky.

Her daughter, a phrase she never imagined herself thinking, may not have her and Harvey's DNA, but she can swear she sees her husband's mischievous sparkle behind the toddler's round, deep brown eyes. Right before the toddler smears her strawberry tainted hands on the rug and claps at her piece of artwork.

"I guess I can't blame you." She shakes her head with a tired chuckle. Late the other night, after she and Harvey finished wrapping Madeline's Christmas presents, he was boasting about their daughter becoming a lawyer or scientist, and she tactfully reminded him that there's nothing wrong with pursuing a career in the arts. He'd snorted in response, and she'd slapped him in return. But they'd agreed. They aren't going to put limitations on her natural instincts, whatever they may be.

She bends down, scooping Madeline's sticky body up, and receives a squeak and giggle in return. Her heart swells as her daughter nestles against her. And she can't help but squeeze Madeline's big cheeks, earning another giggle. She grins, the sound making her forget about work, and she wonders how she was ever content without the innocent cheerfulness.

It's almost hard to comprehend how a year ago her life was so different. And she's eternally grateful the adoption process went smoothly. When Madeline's aunt was sentenced to several years in prison, the result of Rachel and Harvey taking a case against the woman, he had already formed a bond with the girl. Madeline had been dragged to hearings and depositions, capturing Harvey's heart, while her custodian seemed ambivalent about the child's welfare. When the woman voluntarily terminated her rights to be the child's guardian, and Madeline was sent into foster care, she and Harvey stepped in.

However, it wasn't until the fast-tracked adoption became real that she knew she was committing to life as a mother. She loved Madeline at first sight. The wide-eyed girl's little pig-tails resembled two pom-poms, her smooth dark skin and chubby little hands reaching out immediately won her over. And the dimples that reminded her so much of Harvey's smile, even with only two teeth, made her melt.

She thought her relationship with Harvey was enough, whether they had children or not, and she's not doubting they would have stayed madly in love and happy. But after meeting Madeline, the exhaustion she feels, and the crippling worry that she's getting everything wrong, is worth every second. Her daughter fills her with a love that could end wars and build the strongest fortresses of castles. People know her to be loyal, but she doubts anyone understands the lengths she would go for the royal minion who just ruined her very expensive rug.

"You see, Maddy," she says, bouncing her daughter on her knee, "One of these days, you'll have to get a job to help mommy pay for all these artistic misadventures." She swipes the little girl's hands with a napkin she steals from the desk above her. Sitting her back down on the floor, and with an eye on the adventurous girl, she gathers what she can of the strawberry juice to avoid further damage. But before she has the chance to dispose of the napkin, she hears a knock on the door.

The fact she isn't expecting anyone puts her on edge. The only people she knows who can pass the doorman without buzzing up are Mike and Rachel. So she hoists Madeleine up and goes straight for the peephole.

There's no one in her immediate view, and she waits a few seconds before opening the door. When she does, she sees a bright yellow envelope at her feet, and she carefully balances Madeline as she bends down to pick it up.

Curiosity getting the best of her, she puts Madeline down on the floor, keeping the toddler in her view as she sinks into the nearest chair, and slides her nail under the adhesive glue.

Her daughter's chubby hands seem just as eager to take the new object as they were minutes ago, displaying their artistic skills on the rug. But she manages to dodge the girl and open the envelope, her heart lunging into her chest as her eyes fall over the glossy images of Harvey with Catherine embracing, their lips fused together in a heated kiss.

The photos fall to the ground, and she covers her mouth, afraid she's going to be sick.

"Dabba."

Madeleine points down, and Donna feels hot and dizzy, her eyes stinging as she bounces her daughter away from the images. "That's daddy." She swipes her tears, unable to find joy in the first time Madeline referred to Harvey as her father. It should be a momentous occasion, but she doesn't text or call him, the compromising photos leaving a vacuum of uncertainty burning in her chest. She's in a state of shock as she goes through the motions of making dinner, bathing her daughter, and putting the toddler to bed.

Then she pours herself a glass of wine, her hands shaking as she collects the photos still scattered by the door. She isn't expecting Harvey home early. He had to go into work today instead of her because of some emergency, and she was too drained to press him for details. But nothing in her whole life prepared her for the contents in the envelope. Glossy, real pictures of her husband's infidelity.

She feels bile rise up in her throat as she collapses on the couch in front of the spread out pictures. When she said yes to marrying him... When she said yes to adopting their daughter, she never pictured Harvey being unfaithful. The idea is inconceivable, but there aren't just images of the pair kissing. In one Harvey is holding Catherine's hand while the woman is laughing, in another, clearly taken after the kiss, Harvey has his hand wrapped around Catherine's waist. She becomes so involved in memorizing every detail, she doesn't register Madeline crying out on the baby monitor for several seconds before a thump and then a wail grasp her attention.

On auto-pilot, she rushes to her daughter's room, flashes of bruises and broken bones playing in her mind like a horror movie. But when she enters, Madeline smiles, responding with a soft and happy sniffle. "Dobba."

"What happened, sweetie?" She picks up her daughter, fanning her hand through Madeline's hair, and searching for signs of injury as she forces down her guilt. Luckily, the toddler doesn't seem hurt, only startled. But as she places Madeline back down, she's overcome with the fear that she's falling as a mother, a COO and a wife.

She's supposed to be the person who holds everything together, and she doesn't even know where Harvey is. At work? With Catherine? She can feel herself starting to spiral, and when she has Madeline settled again, she goes back to the bottle of wine she opened, shakily pouring herself another glass.

The first thing Harvey notices as he reaches the threshold of the apartment is his daughter's crying. Madeline hasn't woken at 2am since she settled into their home, and he frowns in confusion, stumbling forward. "Donna?" He calls out, but the only answer he gets is intensified screaming.

Following the sound, the wailing leads him to Madeline's room, where he sees Donna sitting in the armchair with the fussy toddler on her lap. Her leg twitches up and down, trying to soothe Madeline, but she doesn't utter a word to acknowledge his presence. Her gaze remains on the floor as he steps inside. He's never seen her so transfixed, and the whole situation makes his heart beat faster. "Everything okay?"

Donna clenches her jaw, tired and despondent as she stands up. She wants to ask where he's been, but they made a commitment to their daughter. Madeline comes first, and she stands up with a dizzy, exhausted spin, pressing her lips against the toddler's frizzy bundle of hair. "Daddy will put you to bed." She hands their daughter over, ignoring Havery's confused gaze.

Instead of answering him, she makes her way into the kitchen, picking up the glass she abandoned and pouring the last of the wine.

She doesn't know how long she stands leaning against the bench waiting for Harvey to surface, but when he does, he emerges with a pensive look burned into his gaze.

"Are you going to tell me what that was about?" He eyes the glass in her hand, frowning. No matter how stressed she's been, he's never seen her drink to calm her nerves, the action telling him something is wrong. "What happened?"

"To Maddy?" she asks sharply, offended he's accusing her of something."She's fine. Maybe she can just sense things aren't okay." She directs her wine glass to the coffee table where the photos of him are spread out.

He moves to where she's pointing, his heart sinking as the photos appear like a slap to the face. The way he's captured in them is all wrong. There are none of him pushing Catherine away, or the anger he'd felt reeling inside him. It's obvious why Donna's upset, and guilt tightens in his chest. At some point his intention to tell her about the kiss fell victim to tantrums, clients, grocery shopping, dry cleaning emergencies and God knows what else was happening on the day. But as he faces the pain radiating in his wife's gaze, he isn't sure how to justify the trivial slip. He should have told her. Because, while he's been blissfully unaware of the photos, she's been here fixating on the images which inarguably make it look like he has something to hide. "Donna." He sighs, his mouth hanging open uselessly.

She shakes her head. "Just… don't." All evening she hoped an explanation would wash away the nausea rolling around her stomach. But the guilt in his face tells her there's nothing he can say to miraculously undo the way she's feeling, and she sets her glass down on the bench. "I'm going to bed."

She doesn't say not to follow, but the instruction is heavily implied by her refusal to stay in the same room, and even though he wants to go after her, the empty bottle of wine on the counter stops him. Confronting her now, when it's late and they're both exhausted doesn't seem like the right move.

Rather than risk making things worse, he slips off his jacket, scrubs a hand through his hair, and goes to retire for the night in Madeline's room. Because if there's one thing he's not going to do, it's distance himself. His family is the most important thing in the world to him, and tomorrow, he's going to make sure Donna knows that.

...

"Can we please talk about this?" Harvey holds up the envelope, moving behind Donna as she fiddles with the coffee machine. He can accept spending one night in an armchair, hoping the space would allow her to get some proper rest and maybe shine some clarity on the situation. But she doesn't seem any more inclined to find an explanation, so he gives her one. "Someone is setting me up."

"Well, they didn't have to try very hard." She rubs her temple, her head pounding as she tries to get the damn machine working. "Take another look," she huffs. "You weren't exactly rushing to get away."

He sets the envelope down, not sure why he's waving the damning evidence around. It's certainly not helping any, and he presses his palms against the counter-top, frustrated his wife can't simply trust he would never intentionally hurt her. "She was drunk, Donna. I pushed her away, but I couldn't just leave her there. I would never cheat on you. You know that." "

The drip tray clangs loudly as she fails to hook it in, and she shoves it aside with an irritated sigh.

She knows Harvey would never have an affair. But slips-ups happen. They've hardly had a minute to themselves, finding time to be intimate is impossible, and he once told her he's only human. She knows he would never stray just for sex, either. But the confession came while he was seeing Paula, and his then-girlfriend was also kept in the dark about a kiss that didn't mean anything. In the past, he's shown a pattern of acting rashly when he can't reconcile his emotions, and she honestly doesn't know what to think. Maybe she's been relying on him too much, and that's why he omitted the truth, or he just needs a break. She's out of her depths when she can't read him, and she flings her arm carelessly at Madeline's room. "If you need time, Harvey, then take it."

"Don't." The warning is calm but holds a deep undertone. He knows henshoukd have told her about the kiss. But if there's anyone in the world he's more protective of than Donna, it's their daughter. He would never abandon Madeline, and especially not over some ridiculous allegation of a fling. "Look at me."

He urges her to turn around, and she does, folding her arms over chest while guilt thrums through her. His tight jaw is an indication the comment hurt him, and the muscles twitch as he holds her gaze.

"You and Maddy are everything to me." He takes a hesitant step, needing her to trust whatever worst-case scenarios she conjured in her mind aren't real. "This is us. I would never throw that away, not for anything."

Her stomach flutters as nears her, her doubts starting to settle at the rawness he's showing her. Maybe she would have seen it earlier if she'd stopped to listen, but it's there now, ready for her questions. But before she can ask any, the baby monitor roars to life with a scream, jolting her back. They can't do this now. He has work, and she has a thousand things she has to take care of before the day is through. "We'll talk about it tonight."

His shoulders sag as she reaches for the crying speaker, her feet padding out of the kitchen. He doesn't want to wait, but his phone vibrates in his pocket, and he digs it out, swiping away the meeting reminder. There's no way he can reschedule the deposition, and puts the device back, aligning the tray in the coffee maker and switching it on so it's ready when Donna comes back out.

As he leaves, he's hit by the notion that the arrangement they have isn't working for him anymore. When he gets home tonight, after they've sorted everything out, he's going to tell Donna he wants to scale back his hours and go part time, the decision already making him feel lighter.

"Wow, you look like hell." Mike quips, assuming Harvey had a rough night with Madeline as his eyes rake over the man's disheveled appearance.

"Thanks," Harvey grunts into his second coffee of the day, moving aside so Mike can use the machine. On the way over, he debated how much to tell the managing partner. He doesn't want to throw Mike under a bus, or mention cutting back his hours until he's spoken to Donna first, but he needs to confess the photos, and he murmurs over the top of his mug. "How's Rachel?"

Mike smirks to himself. Aside from the normal and occasional disagreement with his wife, things are fine, which Harvey knows, because the three of them work together. He turns to face his friend, his amusement faltering as he takes in Harvey's pinched expression. They've all been stressed recently, but there's always a tell with Harvey when it comes to Donna, and he reaches out, worried. "What happened?"

Harvey takes a deep breath. "The night before Richard signed with us, Cathering kissed me," he admits, watching surprise flash in Mike's gaze. "I didn't say anything because she was drunk, and I handled it, but someone was there taking photos."

Mike frowns, taken aback and confused by the information. "How do you know?"

"They were sent to the apartment." Harvey scrubs his hair back, shaking his head. He's been so focused on patching things up with his wife, he hasn't fully processed a person is out there actively trying to break up his marriage. And he still has a hard time making that his priority. "Donna saw them."

Harvey leans back against the bench as Mike pieces together why the man looks so bedraggled. "You didn't tell her about the kiss."

He shakes his head, confirming Mike's suspicion, and Mike can only imagine how Donna must have felt being blindsided. But what piques his curiosity the most is why Harvey kept silent. In all the years Mike's known him, Harvey hates any sort of lie, even one by omission. "Why the hell not?"

Harvey's mood darkens. He doesn't need a second third degree, and he shrugs uselessly. "Because it didn't mean anything, Mike. I put Catherine in a cab, and when I got home, Donna was already asleep. I didn't know I had goddamn paparazzi following me."

"Okay." Mike raises his palm, attempting to quell the man's frustration. Obviously, Harvey would never cheat. But judging by the man's short temper, Donna didn't interpret the photos well. And if she didn't call Rachel, things must be bad. However, as bleak as it all looks, he's willing to bet Donna is more upset over the shock than the contents she was given. "Donna will come around. You just need to give her some time."

"What if she doesn't?" Harvey asks, defeated. If the situation were reversed and he'd received photos of Donna locking lips with someone else, he isn't sure how he'd react. And Donna hasn't given him any sign she believes in his innocence,

"She will," Mike says supportively. "Remember, Donna's looking at all this as a mother now." His expression softens, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Not everything's about you anymore."

In spite of the dig, Harvey relaxes slightly. Maybe Mike's right. Usually Donna would have heard him out already, but making Madeline their priority comes first. And cornering Donna this morning was potentially a mistake. But with Christmas Eve only a day away, his heart is aching to make things right. "Think the boss would approve if I extend my leave?"

Mike snorts. "I didn't hire you to be a flake." He's kidding, of course, and the truth is he's been expecting Harvey to broach renegotiating his hours for a while now. Part of him wouldn't even be surprised if retirement was on the cards, but for the moment, he's relieved Harvey's ask is only small. "Finish the day. Morrison has a light case load. She can cover for you."

Relief washes over Harvey, grateful for the man's understanding.

"What about the photos?" Mike asks, growing serious. "Whoever took them wants something."

"I know." Harvey muses the notion over his mug.

He's no stranger to making enemies, but he'll be damned if he's letting the person messing with his family get away with it. As soon as he makes things right with Donna, he's going to invest every resource in finding out who was tailing him and why.

...

Chapter 3

"Donna?" Harvey calls out as he walks into their apartment, finally having some more clarity after talking to Mike.

Halfway through the day it dawned on him that, in the midst of all the chaos, even before the photos were sent, he didn't stop to ask if she was okay. He knows she loves Madeline with every ounce of her being, but they've both been so exhausted lately that he forgot his wife sometimes needs to be coaxed into admitting how she really feels. Before the adoption went through, they were talking openly every night, and he doesn't want them slipping back into old habits.

Still not quite sure how to make things right but determined not to spend another night apart, he lands his keys on the bench, his gaze softening as he walks into the living area. Madeline is playing in front of the Christmas tree, sprawled out over a mat of colorful foam squares. He instantly smiles, stepping forward and lifting her up from the blocks she was stacking. "I'm home," he calls out again, confused when he's greeted by silence. Donna would never leave their daughter playing unsupervised, not unless she was close by. And his stomach drops as he glances around the quiet apartment.

Madeline breaks the silence with a gurgle. "Where… Mu-bby?"

She clutches his suit with her chubby hands, and for a moment he's focused on the fact she just tried to call Donna mommy. He can only grin. But his eagerness to tell Donna fades when he checks every room of the apartment, finding each one empty. Something isn't right, and he bounces his daughter, trying to get an answer out of her. "Did you see where mommy went?"

She pokes her fist at the door. "Mubby wib man."

His stomach coils in a knot. The only male Madeline frequently spends time around is Mike. He and Donna don't know any single men in the building complex, and even if they did, she wouldn't just up and leave."What man, baby?"

The toddler hiccups, placing her thumb in her mouth, and sucking it. "Mubby."

He tries to steel the panic crawling beneath his skin as he reaches around Madeline and into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He dials Donna's number first, his heart pounding when it rings from her desk. "Shit," he curses, calling Mike's number.

"Shib."

Madeline attempts to mimic the curse, and he tries to keep his voice calm for his daughter's sake as he tells Mike to get the hell over here. He phones the police next, for all the good it does. They feed him some bullshit about waiting forty-eight hours before filing a missing person's report, and he holds Madeline tightly, collapsing on the couch as he rings a contact he has at the courthouse. Leo promises to send someone over, and he hangs up, taking several deep breaths to steady himself.

"Where's mubby?"

His daughter coos the question again, and he shakes his head. "I don't know, Maddy, but I'm going to find her. I promise."

He presses a kiss to her frizzy hair, keeping himself together, because he doesn't have a choice. But Madeline needs both her parents, and a knot swells in his throat.

He didn't even consider his stalker might pose a physical threat.

Another mistake that could cost his family everything.

Donna's mind keeps conjuring fog every time she tries to open her eyes. It feels like heat is suffocating her from the inside out, beads of sweat dripping down her skin, and she finally manages to blink open heavy eyelids, just long enough to take in her surroundings. The room is some kind of storage unit. There are no windows, no natural light, just the hum of electricity coming from a weak bulb.

An incessant pounding down her sides leaves her woozy, and she figures the pain is due to her arms being strung up above her head. She tries to unbuckle the cuffs that are attached to chains, but her wrists are locked at the wrong angle, and the futile attempt only makes her more nauseous. Pulling at them does nothing, except create a loud rattle which echoes the reality she's trapped in, and she tries to remember what happened. The last coherent memory she has is of playing with Madeline, then getting up to answer the door. Beyond that is nothing but darkness. The events are either being repressed or the memories aren't there to access. But despite the sweltering heat, and her feet barely touching the ground, she's fuelled by the desperate need to know where her daughter is.

A sharp pain travels from her back to her wrists as she tries to wrench herself free. She's still alive and breathing—just—and she forces her gaze up to the chains holding her captive.

The smell of blood from the restraints makes bile rise in her throat, the acrid response reflecting both the predicament she's in and the fate of her daughter, but there isn't time to be sick. t

She tries to move around and see behind her, but she's overwhelmed by a wave of dizziness, her breaths falling shorter and shallower in the enclosed space.

Then, without warning, a mechanical sound screams through the silence, and a shadow dips beneath the roller door that's fading in and out, before a louder whoosh fills the small space with a blast of cold air.

"Well," the man taunts. "Look who decided to join the party!"

...

The moment Mike and Rachel step inside his door, Harvey thrusts Madeline into Mike's arms.

Mike grips the toddler tightly, sharing an anxious look with Rachel, before flashing his worried gaze back to Harvey. "What about the police?"

"Someone's on their way." He hurries into his coat, not prepared to waste another second when he could be out searching for Donna himself.

"Shouldn't you wait for them?" Mike asks, concerned by how frantically Harvey's acting. They don't even know what happened to Donna, let alone who might have taken her or why, and he prompts Harvey's stubborn silence. "At least tell us where you're going."

"Where do you goddam think," Harvey snaps, regretting the anger when Madeline hiccups and then starts to cry. "He, shhh… I'm sorry." He places a chaste kiss on her forehead. "I'm going to find mommy, okay?" The toddler fusses in Mike's arms, wailing louder, but Harvey doesn't have time to soothe her. He just hushes his voice, trying not to upset her further as he answers Mike's question. "Catherine is in those photos. I'm going to find out if she knows something."

Mike opens his mouth to protest, but Rachel cups her husband's elbow, discouraging him from stopping Harvey. When it comes to the people Harvey cares about, his instincts to protect them are usually always right, but she implores him not to do anything stupid. "Be careful."

Harvey nods, more determined than ever to find his wife and bring them both back in one piece.

On his way downstairs, he pulls up the address he sent Catherine home to the night they had dinner, and he orders an Uber to the same location.

When he arrives, he doesn't mess around, pounding on her door, alerting her neighbors—and anyone else that can hear his aggression—that he wants answers.

The door finally opens, revealing her wide eyed confusion, and he plants his foot in the doorway so she can't lock him out. "Where's Donna?"

Catherine tightens the knot of her gown, swallowing nervously. "Who?"

"My wife!" he snaps, no longer buying her innocent act. The more he thought about it on the way over, the less he could make sense of her behavior from their evening out. She'd been drinking before he arrived, feigning confidence, but when he'd threatened to leave, she completely changed her act. Only to go from sober and enjoyable to drunk and throwing herself at him the moment there was a camera around."You set me up. Why?"

The anger radiating off him and the fury in his gaze makes her tremble with nauseous regret. No part of her wanted to get mixed up in his personal life, but she didn't have a choice. She just never envisioned her role would lead to any physical harm coming to him or his wife. "He said no one would get hurt."

Harvey doesn't care that his instincts are vindicated, reprimanding her involvement with an icy glare. "Who, Catherine?"

"I can't…" She hesitates, hoping he'll understand the position she's in. "Please, I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was just trying to protect my father's company."

For the first time he can see she's visibly afraid. And while he doesn't give a damn she's being threatened, he lies, forcing the rage out of his voice. "I can help you. I will. But you need to trust me."

Her heart hammers like a freight train in her chest, and she closes her eyes, warring with her inner conflict. She was led to believe Harvey was an arrogant, self-centered Casanova, just like her husband. But she's seen for herself that isn't the case. And if his wife is really in danger, she knows she has an obligation to tell Harvey the truth. "Nathan Gallo. He's an investment banker. He inflated Beale Industries shares so we could get ahead in the market."

Harvey stiffens, his entire body turning rigid. A second Gallo coming after him can't be a coincidence.

"He said all I had to do was pose for the photos and meet him tomorrow at some storage unit up town. He didn't say why," she explains, worried by the grave look that falls across Harvey's face.

"Because he's setting you up, too." Harvey realizes, feeling sick to his stomach as his mind races, piecing together all the information. Whatever Gallo is planning to do to Donna, he was going to Catherine as a scapegoat, likely to make her look responsible. "I need that address, now."

She scrambles inside, returning a few moments later with a scribbled note that has the address, unit number, and the access code.

He snatches the paper out of her grasp, ready with his phone to ping the nearest Uber to come pick him up.

Catherine watches him stride away, praying her actions haven't caused anyone harm. Because if something has happened to Harvey's wife, she doesn't think she'll ever be able to forgive herself.

...

With her captor's face still hidden in the shadows, the man's silhouette outlined by the flimsy lightbulb hanging above her, Donna can only hear his voice.

"You've been out for quite some time." Nathan circles behind her. "I almost thought I wouldn't get the pleasure of seeing you suffer."

A chill runs down her spine at his words. When she'd opened the door to him, she hadn't thought twice about any danger lurking. Now there's air in the unit, her memory is starting to grow clearer, and she can vaguely recall signing for a delivery of flowers. When the bouquet turned up through the peephole, she thought the gift was an apology from Harvey, and she winces, remembering the gun that had lodged in her side seconds after she took the arrangement. Fearing for Madeline, she'd had no choice but to follow him out to a waiting car. Once inside, a strong chemical cloth had been thrust over her mouth, and with no way of knowing what happened to Madeline, she feels a surge of anger as she wrenches the chains. "Where's my daughter!?"

"Oh, so that little thing you were playing house with is really your daughter? I wasn't sure." For months now he's been watching the Specter family adjust to their life in Seattle. He isn't an idiot. He would never have targeted Harvey in New York. But when he learned the lawyer who sent his brother to prison was living and breathing law in the same zip code, he couldn't resist enacting his revenge. Every ounce of pent up rage he's felt since Frank died has been dedicated to making Harvey Specter suffer, and his sadistic laugh reverberates through the small prison he's created.

Donna twists her head, trying to see her captor as he paces behind her, but it's still impossible to make out his features. "Where is my daughter? What did you do to her?" There's a bite to her tone even though she's in no position to demand answers.

"Oh, I didn't do anything to her." He stills, smirking to himself. His motive is vengeance, and killing the kid would leave Specter with nothing. His intent is to inflict life-long suffering. The man will be forced to watch his daughter grow up without a mother, each day reminded of the fact he's at fault. "I figured I'd leave her father to raise her alone." He leans back against the wall with a chuckle. "Maybe later on he'll tell her how mommy left because daddy-dearest was cheating."

Donna shudders at his words, regret aching in her chest. She'd let Harvey believe she thought he was capable of having an affair. All because she was scared he was pulling away. Maybe part of her was even trying to punish him. But the idea of him finding Madeline alone and thinking she walked out tears her up inside. "Why?" she croaks. Maybe learning the truth won't make any difference, but she needs to know what kind of a monster would go out of his way to make her family suffer like this.

"You have no idea of who I am, do you?" He finally steps out of the shadows, titillated by her spirit. He's a man of wealth, has all the time money can buy, but he usually likes to keep his affairs short and simple, even though taunting Specter's wife is more fun than he anticipated. Retribution fuelled by revenge is a kink he could get used to, and he prowls around her, his amusement almost demonic as he soaks in her fear.

She glares at the man she's never met, but his features are familiar. While she never came face to face with Frank Gallo, she's seen enough photos to pick up on what has to be a family resemblance, and the guess slips through her lips. "You're Frank's brother."

"Atta girl!" His eyes brighten with a fun cheerfulness. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me. Your reputation precedes you," he says, taking another step around her. "Now, how about we do away with the pleasantries and have some real fun?"

She flinches, expecting him to inflict some kind of pain, but he merely holds her gaze before leisurely stepping back to the panel by the roller door. "My advice, try not to panic. If you scream, you'll only waste more air."

She scowls, realizing the button his palm is hovering over is an airtight seal. That's why the unit had been so hot before, but it doesn't make sense for him to just leave her. She doesn't understand why the big show, until his gaze flicks to a security camera in the corner.

"I thought I'd wait a few months, maybe a couple of years. I might even send the tape on your daughter's eighteenth birthday," he laughs. "Now wouldn't that be a present to remember."

"No!" she shouts, realizing his intention as he brings his hand down, shutting off the flow of air. He's going to suffocate her so Harvey can watch, and she struggles, useless tears filling her gaze as the roller door clunks open. Moisture hits her cheeks as Gallo disappears and the metal slams down, sealing her inside the small box.

There's nothing she can do, except keep her gaze away from the camera documenting her every last breath. Because if Harvey ever sees the tape, watching her panic will destroy him, and she resists the urge to struggle, forcing her eyes closed.

Harvey's heart pounds in his chest as he enters the maze of storage units. Thanks to Mike, the police are on their way, but he wasn't going to wait around for their help.

When he sees a man in dark clothes up ahead, weaving out of a row, he stops, unable to size up if the person is Gallo, until the stranger turns his head, shock caught in his gaze. He bolts, and Harvey sprints after him, inciting rage making him faster, and he catches the back of Gallo's hoodie, slamming the man into the nearest wall. "Where the hell is she!?"

Nathan writhes under the painful choke hold. Even though running into the famed lawyer wasn't part of his plan, when his watch beeps, signaling he no longer needs to worry about Donna escaping, he smirks gleefully. "Too late, Specter. But don't worry," he grunts. "I'll send you a memento to remember her by."

Harvey fights the urge to crush Gallo's throat, slamming his fist into the man's face, instead. The limp body goes down hard, collapsing in an unconscious heap, but Harvey doesn't have the means or time to restrain him. He can only hope the man stays out until the police arrive, his steps frantic as he follows the numbers overhead to unit 106.

"Donna!?" He shouts at the door, entering the access code scrawled on the note Catherine gave him, his palms shaky and sweating as the metal coils up. When there's enough room, he squeezes underneath. "Donna!"

He stands up struggling to breath in the thick, humid air, his lungs burning as he finds her limp body tethered to the ceiling by chains. He immediately wants to throw up, but he pushes himself forward, undoing the buckles around her wrists and catching her weight as she slumps free from the restraints. His chest heaves when he carries her outside, his knees crashing to the ground as he places her down.

"Stay with me," he pleads, his gaze misting over as he covers her still lips. There's no breath against his hand, and he tilts her head back blowing air into her mouth.

He lifts back up, pushing his palms down over her chest. "Come on," he begs, repeating the cycle as sirens wail in the distance. He keeps going, growing more desperate when she suddenly chokes, gasping in air. With a careful grip he rolls her over, swallowing the lump in his throat as strokes her hair. "I'm right here. You're okay."

She sits up coughing, her hands colliding with coat and she clutches the fabric, burying herself in his tight embrace.

"I've got you." He's flooded with relief as she clings to him, his arms trembling around her. He has no intention of letting her go, but after a moment she scrambles to get free, her eyes wide and panicked as she stares up at him.

"Where's Maddy?" She begs him for an answer, terrified that Gallo was lying to her.

"With Mike, she's safe." He strokes a shaky hand through her hair, reassuring her that their daughter is out of harm's way. It's Donna he's worried about, his gaze falling over her in search of injuries. "What did he do? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She can feel the adrenaline leave her body with the realization Madeline wasn't hurt, and she's overwhelmed by her emotions. She wasn't sure she would ever see Harvey or their daughter again, and tears sink her vision as she rushes to make things right. "I'm sorry. I was so stupid. I didn't listen to you and I should have. I was—"

"Hey stop, stop." He palms her shoulders trying to calm her down. "None of this was your fault. Just breathe, tell me if it hurts anywhere."

She takes a deep breath, brushing his thumbs as they gently swipe away her tears. Gallo tied her up and tried to suffocate her, but he didn't inflict any other physical wounds, only emotional ones. "He didn't hurt me."

He sighs. The blood on her wrists and the way she was chained up suggests otherwise. But before he can press her into admitting more, a clamber of footsteps echoes behind them.

"Police! Don't move!"

He instantly holds up his hands. "Harvey Specter," he shouts out. "My associate called you. Last time I saw Gallo he was down there." He points in the direction he came from, praying the asshole is still lying in an unconscious heap.

The first cop lowers his weapon, ranking his gaze over the pair. "Stay here. We'll call an ambulance."

Donna watches both of the officers disappear, her voice fearful as she tugs her husband's sleeve. "Harvey, I want to go home." She doesn't need an ambulance or a hospital. She just wants to see their daughter. "Please."

The plea twinges his chest, and he sighs tiredly. If he could take her straight home he would, but he needs to be sure she's okay first. "Let's see what the paramedics say."

She wants to argue, but she also doesn't want to fight, not after everything they've just been through, and she nods silently as he opens his arm.

If she can't be at home, then being wrapped up safely in his arms is the next best thing, and she rests her head against his chest as his warmth closes around her.

Rachel startles as the door to Harvey and Donna's apartment bursts open. Even though she received a text saying they were on their way, the girl in her arms has been crying and fussing since Harvey left. She's been completely overwhelmed, but the toddler speaks for everyone in the room, including Mike's gentle snoring on the couch, when she garbles her elation.

"Mubby."

Rachel hands the flailing girl over, moisture welling in her gaze. "You're okay?"

It's a question not a statement, but Donna nods, clutching Madeline as Harvey's palm settles against her back.

"Dabba."

Madeline reaches over her shoulder, her chubby fist trying to reach Harvey, and when he cups their daughter's small hand in his own, the warmth of his chest cocooning her, she's never felt more safe. Or grateful for the people standing around her. "It's late. I'll make up the guest room."

"No, you won't." Rachel smiles warmly. "Go, get some sleep. Mike and I will take care of this little one."

Donna isn't sure she's ready to let go, but her body is aching with exhaustion, and Harvey's lips gently brushing her hair reminds her there's nothing to be afraid of. "I'll put her to bed," she says softly, supporting Madeline's lolling head.

Harvey goes with her, refusing to stray more than a few feet from his family, and once his daughter is settled, he helps Donna shower, his hands lathering soap over her body as she leans against him. When they're both toweled off, he tucks her into their bed, and climbs in beside her, wrapping his arm around her under the covers.

She snuggles closer, groggily blinking up at him. "Thank you," she smiles weakly. "For knowing something was wrong."

He frowns, confused as he brushes the damp hair back from her face. "You would never have left Maddy alone like that."

"You're right," she agrees, sighing. "But Gallo made it seem like you wouldn't look. Not after our fight."

He feels a slither of rage, angry at Gallo for manipulating her, but he doesn't let it harden his expression. Even though he hates she would think that, his whisper is filled with soft conviction. "I'm sorry I gave you a reason to doubt me."

She isn't mad, not since the bigger picture was forced upon her. But she still doesn't know why he kept Catherine's advance to himself, and she debates letting it go, but her curiosity niggles until she has to ask. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He breathes out quietly. There's only one real answer, and he isn't sure she's going to believe him, but tries anyway. "Honestly, I just forgot."

"You forgot?" She raises a skeptical eyebrow, wondering how that could even be possible given his history with infidelity.

He nods. "I came home, and you were asleep. The next morning Maddy was having a tantrum over something...I guess it just slipped my mind."

She reads his gaze, can tell he's being completely sincere, and she's astonished by how much he's changed over the years. She was scared he wanted an out, a way back to his old life, when she can see now he wasn't bothered by the kiss, simply because it didn't mean anything. And now she knows why, when she was the other woman, he was affected so much.

She grins, her eyes shining brightly, and he smiles warmly. "What?"

"Nothing," she covers, not wanting to dredge up the past. "I just realized, it's Christmas tomorrow."

She's right. Technically they're in the early hours of Christmas Eve already, and he slides his hand back down to her waist, tugging her closer. "And I already have the perfect gift."

The cheesy line makes her chuckle, but he's right. Their family is better than anything money could ever buy.