LOGINLiam's POVThe thing about Talia is that she is very good at most things.She is good at rooms. She walks into them and they rearrange themselves for her, people turning, conversations pausing, that particular atmospheric shift that very beautiful and very confident people generate simply by arriving. I have watched her do this for three years and I have found it consistently impressive and I am finding it tonight something else entirely.We are at a fundraiser for something I agreed to attend six weeks ago when my calendar had a gap and Helena thought it would be useful optics, and Talia is working the room the way she works rooms, moving through it with the ease of someone who has never once worried whether they belong somewhere.I am watching her.Not the way I usually watch her, with the particular appreciation of a man who chose this, but with the slightly removed quality that has been settling over me in increments for months, the feeling of watching something I know well from a
Emma's POVHere is what nobody tells you about raising toddlers in Paris.The city does not care.Paris has survived revolutions and occupations and approximately four hundred years of extremely strong opinions about bread, and it looks at three almost-two-year-olds dismantling a café table with the serene indifference of something that has seen considerably worse and come through fine.I find this comforting.It is a Tuesday morning and I am at our usual café on Rue Cler because Philippe does not flinch when Ace reorganizes the sugar packets and gives Grey the small quiet corner table he needs to eat his breakfast in his specific sequence and has at some point in the past three months simply begun producing Willa's order before I have finished sitting down, which is either excellent service or a sign that we come here too often and I have chosen to interpret it as excellent service.Ace is currently explaining something to a pigeon on the pavement outside with the focused urgency of
Liam's POVMarcus finds the thread on a Monday morning and delivers it the way he delivers everything significant... without preamble, without editorializing, setting a single printed page on my desk and stepping back and waiting.I look at the page.It is a photograph.It is not a clear one but a frame grab from what looks like a conference venue security footage, slightly pixelated at the edges, the kind of image that was not meant to be seen by anyone who was not specifically looking for it.It is the photo of a woman walking through what appears to be a hotel lobby, shot from above and slightly behind. Dark hair, a purposeful stride that suggests someone who knows exactly where they are going and has already decided everything about the meeting they are walking toward and she is wearing a structured blazer and carrying a leather portfolio and she is completely, deliberately not looking at any camera."This was taken at the Hôtel de Crillon," Marcus says. "Eighteen months ago. Ther
Emma's POVThe twins are running.I say twins because that is what it feels like when Ace and Grey move at full speed through an apartment simultaneously, two small people with absolutely no concept of obstacles or consequences, and Willa walks behind them at a measured pace with her rabbit under her arm and the expression of someone who has decided that dignity is worth the sacrifice of speed.They are fourteen months old and my apartment has ceased to be a living space and has become a terrain.Everything below knee height is either bolted to the wall, removed entirely, or has already been destroyed by Ace and is currently being examined by Grey and will subsequently be reorganized by Willa into a system only she understands.I move the coffee table on a Wednesday after Ace uses it to launch himself at the sofa for the third time in a day and I stand in the living room and look at the space where it was and think about the apartment in LA with its perfectly curated surfaces and its
Liam's POVThe first decline comes on a Tuesday.It is polite, professionally worded and signed by someone named Bertrand Lacroix, who is apparently the board chair of Bellamy Inc and who writes with the careful courtesy of a man delivering a rejection on behalf of someone who does not wish to be identified as the person doing the rejecting."Thank you for your interest in a strategic partnership with Bellamy Inc. At this time, the company is not seeking external acquisitions or partnership arrangements. We wish Carson Holdings continued success." I read it twice, set it down, and pick it up again.I have been declined before, this is not a new experience. I run a company that makes approaches and receives them regularly and the word no is not one that destabilizes me professionally. I have been told no by government bodies and sovereign wealth funds and men twice my age who thought my ambition was charming and my timeline was optimistic and who are now, without exception, doing busi
Emma's POVSix weeks after the triplets are born, my mother goes back to San Diego, and I stand in the doorway of my new apartment and watch her taxi pull away and then I close the door and stand in the hallway of my life and think, right.Just me then.Me and Adèle, who arrives every morning at seven thirty with the calm authority of a woman who has decided that whatever is happening in this apartment is manageable and she intends to prove it, and me and three babies who have already established distinct and specific opinions about every aspect of their existence.Ace's opinion about most things is that they should be louder.Grey's opinion is that everything should be examined thoroughly before any conclusions are drawn.Willa's opinion is that she should be in charge and everyone else should be aware of this and act accordingly.I find a bigger apartment in the seventh arrondissement in March, one with three bedrooms and a kitchen large enough to actually turn around in, and I move







