MasukSiennaMy hand was shaking so badly that the phone nearly slipped before the video had finished playing.I had opened it standing at the window of my room, with the evening light going orange over the garden and a half-finished sketch on the desk behind me. Two minutes and eleven seconds. A small face, wet and blotched and so thin around the eyes that I hardly knew her. A blue cast. A pink plastic bracelet. A voice I had not heard in three years, cracking on every second word.“Mom, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Please come. Please. I need you. I'll be good, I promise I'll be good, please don't leave me, please...”I pressed my fist against my mouth. A sound came out of me that I didn't recognize.The video ended on a frozen frame of her face with her mouth open, mid-sob. Under it, in Julian's blue bubble, two words. “She needs you.”I read it. I read the words “I'll be good” again and again, until they stopped being words and became a shape in my chest.I had never left Mia. Not once.
Julian"Again," I said. "A little slower this time."Mia sat on the edge of her bed with her cast in her lap and her hair brushed neat, the way I'd asked. The hospital bracelet was still on her good wrist. The doctor had said she could take it off two days ago. I had told her to leave it.I propped my phone against a stack of books on her desk and checked the frame. Her face, the cast, the pink plastic band. The curtains were half drawn, so the light came in soft and gray. It looked exactly the way I wanted. I had even told the housekeeper to leave the pillows rumpled and the blanket half off the bed, as though a sick child had only just been settled there. I told myself it was staging. It was staging."I already said it," Mia said."I know. And you were good. But it sounded like you were reading." I crouched in front of her, close enough to touch her knees. "Mom needs to hear that you mean it, sweetheart.""I do mean it.""Then say it like you mean it."It was four days after the hos
Elias Damien was on his third objection when my phone buzzed against the boardroom table, and I let it buzz. "The jewelry division has lost money every quarter for six years," my half-brother said. He stood at the head of the long table with one hand flat on a folder, the other straightening a cuff that didn't need straightening. "You want to put more of the company's capital into it." "Yes." "Why?" "Because the pieces aren't what's losing money. The people running them are." I slid a second folder across the polished wood. "Licensing deals that sell our name to anyone who asks. Three master jewelers pushed out for being expensive. A workshop that hasn't taken an apprentice in a decade. It's all in there. Read it or don't." "Grandfather left you the shares, Elias. He didn't leave you good judgment." "The vote is Thursday." Around the table, eight board members found something interesting to look at. Damien's jaw tightened. I didn't explain myself. I never had, not to him, not t
Sienna My phone buzzed against the table just as Margot passed me the bread, and I almost didn't look. Dinner at the Moreau house was never fast. Étienne carved, Margot talked, and Luca argued with whoever dared to disagree with him about anything, including the weather. It was the one hour of the day when nobody asked me what I needed. I was halfway through a story about a client who wanted a ring shaped like her dog when I saw the screen light up on the cloth beside my plate. Julian's name. I turned it over, out of habit. It buzzed again. "You can answer that," Étienne said gently. "It's nothing." "It's not nothing if it makes your face do that," Margot said. I picked it up. I read the first line, and the room went very quiet in my ears. Mia has been asking about you. She wanted me to tell you she remembers the song you hum when you cook. My hand started to shake. I set the phone down before I could drop it, and pressed my palm flat on the tablecloth. I had hummed that son
JulianMy phone lit up on the hotel bed that evening, and I lunged for it before I saw the name.Mia.I stared at it for two rings. She had never once called me on her own. She was nine years old, and in all that time, the only way I'd heard her voice on the phone was when Mother handed it to her and told her to say goodnight.I answered on the third ring. "Mia?""Daddy." A whisper. I could hear the rustle of a blanket. "Can you talk?""Of course I can. Where are you?""In my closet. Grandmother's at her charity lunch and Aunt Camille's putting Marcus down for his nap. I took Aunt Camille's tablet. She doesn't know." A pause. "Are you mad?""No. No, sweetheart, I'm not mad." I sat down on the edge of the bed. My lip had swollen up so badly I had to talk around it, and I hoped she wouldn't notice. "Is something wrong?""You've been gone four days.""I know. I'm sorry. I told you I had to travel for work.""You didn't go for work." Her voice was small and very steady. "You went to find
JulianI made it out the café door with the phone against my ear and blood running down my chin, and I did not hear a word Richard said for the first ten seconds."...Julian? Julian, are you there?""I'm here.""You sound strange.""I got hit." I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth and it came away red. "It's nothing. What's happened?"Behind me, through the glass, I could see the Moreaus gathering up their sister. The tall one, Adam, had his hand on her shoulder. Luca was talking to the waiter, a wallet open in his hand. Sienna looked back once, just once, and then they led her to the car and it pulled away, and the street was empty."Where are you?" Richard asked. "I've called you fourteen times since last night.""I know. I saw. I'm in Solenne.""Solenne." I heard him breathe out. Richard Vane had been our chief financial officer for eleven years, and in all that time I had never heard him sound this tired. "Julian, I told you the lenders moved the call to Friday. They didn't j







