Chapter Seven

Celeste's Pov

I started paying attention to hands, not intentionally at first. But once I knew there were two of them, I needed a way to tell them apart that didn't rely on mood or tone or the way they made coffee.

The scar was the obvious tell. Thin line on the left hand between thumb and index finger. I'd seen it twice. Both times in the evening. Both times on a man who moved easier, talked softer, laughed like it didn't cost him something.

Eli had the scar. Nico didn't.

So when the man who came down to breakfast Thursday morning poured coffee with scarred hands, I knew.

"Sleep better?" Eli asked.

"Some." I accepted the cup. Watched him move around the kitchen like he lived there. Which he did. Just not publicly.

"You've been quiet lately."

"I have things on my mind."

"Anything I can help with?"

I almost laughed. He was asking if he could help with the problem of him existing.

"Not yet. But I'll let you know."

He nodded and sat across from me. Drank his coffee and didn't push for more.

That was the difference I was learning. Nico pushed gently, strategically, but constantly. Like he needed to know every variable in every room. Eli let things breathe. Let silence sit without filling it.

"Can I ask you something?" I said.

"Sure."

"Do you like coffee? Or do you just drink it because it's there?"

He smiled slightly. "I like it. Why?"

"Just curious."

"About my coffee preferences?"

"About whether you ever get to just like things. Without it being calculated."

Something shifted in his expression, not quite surprise. More like recognition.

"Sometimes," he said quietly. "When no one's watching."

"And when they are watching?"

"Then I'm very good at seeming like whoever they need me to be."

"That sounds exhausting."

"It is. But I've had practice."

We finished breakfast in comfortable silence. He cleared the dishes. I stayed seated and watched him move and thought about what Iris had said.

*Whichever one you spent that first night with hasn't forgotten.*

If it was Eli....and the timeline suggested it was, then this was him. The man who made coffee right and didn't ask invasive questions and looked at me sometimes like he was trying to figure out if I remembered.

I remembered. I just hadn't known who I was remembering.

He left for wherever he went during the day. I went upstairs and found Nico's office door open.

Nico was at his desk. No scar. Different posture. He looked up when I knocked.

"Celeste. Come in."

I did. Sat in the chair across from him. "Do you have a minute?"

"For you? Always."

The phrase was identical to something Eli had said two days ago but it landed completely differently. Nico made it sound like a negotiation. Eli had made it sound like truth.

"I've been thinking about the contract," I said.

"What about it?"

"The terms. What happens if one of us wants to renegotiate."

His expression didn't change but something behind it sharpened. "Renegotiate how?"

"I don't know yet. I'm just asking if it's possible."

"Anything's possible. What specifically are you unhappy with?"

"I didn't say I was unhappy."

"Then what are you?"

I held his gaze. "Curious. About whether I'm locked into something permanent or if there's flexibility."

"The contract is for five years. After that, we reassess. You knew that going in."

"I knew a lot of things going in. I'm learning more now."

"Like what?"

"Like how things actually work in this house. Who makes decisions. What I'm expected to do versus what I'm allowed to do."

He leaned back. Studying me. "You're testing something."

"Maybe."

"Testing me? Or testing the arrangement?"

"Both."

He smiled slightly. "Fair enough. What have you concluded so far?"

"That the arrangement is more complicated than anyone explained. And that you don't tell me things unless I specifically ask."

"Would you prefer I volunteer information constantly?"

"I'd prefer honesty by default instead of honesty on request."

"In this house, honesty on request is generous."

"That's a depressing standard."

"It's a realistic one."

We looked at each other across the desk. He was waiting for me to push harder. I was waiting to see if he'd give me anything without being forced.

Neither of us pushed. The moment held. Then his phone rang.

"I need to take this," he said.

"Of course."

I left. Went back to my room. Sat on the bed and thought about the difference between two conversations that looked identical but felt completely different.

Nico gave information like currency. Carefully. Only when the trade was worth it.

Eli gave it like breathing.

I needed to figure out which one was more dangerous.

That afternoon I saw Viktor.

He was in the hallway outside Nico's office. We hadn't been alone since the day he'd shown up for a meeting that ran too long.

"Mrs. Voss." He nodded. Professional. Distant.

"Viktor."

"Settling in well?"

"As well as expected."

"Good. This house can be difficult to navigate for newcomers."

"I'm learning."

"I'm sure you are." He paused. "If you ever need guidance, Iris is an excellent resource."

"I've noticed."

"She's loyal to this family. Completely loyal. I mention that because loyalty matters here. More than almost anything else."

He was testing me. Seeing if I'd react. Seeing if I knew what he was implying.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Please do."

He walked away. I stood in the hallway and thought about Sera telling me she'd passed information to someone called V. Viktor. Who knew about the twins. Who had helped set up the arrangement fifteen years ago.

Who wanted me to know that Iris was loyal to the family. Which meant loyal to the secret. Which meant I shouldn't trust her to help me if helping me meant exposing what she'd been protecting for over a decade.

I went looking for Iris. Found her in the east wing organizing files.

"Can we talk?"

She glanced up. "About?"

"Viktor just warned me that you're loyal to this family."

"I am."

"How loyal?"

She set down the file. "What are you really asking?"

"I'm asking if you told me about the twins because you thought I deserved to know or because you needed me to know for some other reason."

"Both."

"That's not reassuring."

"It's honest. I told you because you were going to figure it out and I'd rather you hear it from someone who can give you context. But I also told you because this situation is unstable and you're either going to stabilize it or destabilize it and I wanted you to have a choice about which."

"What situation?"

"Nico and Eli. They've been managing this arrangement for fifteen years. It worked when they were younger. It's breaking now."

"Why?"

"Because they're not twelve anymore. They're thirty-four. And pretending to be one person is getting harder. Especially now."

"Especially now why?"

She looked at me carefully. "Because of you."

"Me?"

"You're the first variable in fifteen years that affects them both differently."

"I don't understand."

"You will. But I can't explain it without breaking confidences I'm not ready to break yet."

"That's cryptic."

"That's careful. Which is what you should be too."

She went back to her files. I stood there trying to figure out if she'd just helped me or manipulated me or both.

That evening the man who came down for dinner had scarred hands.

Eli. Again.

"Just us tonight?" I asked.

"Nico has a call that'll run late. I'm on dinner duty."

"Is that how it works? You take turns?"

He paused. Looked at me. "What makes you ask that?"

"Just trying to understand the household schedule."

"Right. The schedule." He didn't believe me but he didn't push it. "We coordinate. Make sure everything's covered. It's not complicated."

"Seems complicated."

"Only if you're looking for complications."

We ate. Talked about nothing important. He was good at that. Filling space without revealing anything.

Halfway through dinner I asked: "Do you ever get tired of it?"

"Of what?"

"Sharing your life with someone else. Never being fully yourself in any situation."

He set down his fork. "That's a very specific question."

"I'm a very specific person."

"Are you asking me something, Celeste?"

I met his eyes. "I'm asking if you ever want something that's just yours. Not shared. Not negotiated. Just yours."

The silence stretched. He didn't look away.

"Yes," he said finally. "I want that. Every day."

"Then why don't you take it?"

"Because taking what I want would hurt someone I care about. And I'm not willing to do that."

"Even if what you want matters?"

"Especially then."