LOGINScarlett's POV I went upstairs after the kids were finally settled. Spencer was already in the bedroom. The lamp on his side was on, throwing a yellow circle across the floor. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the spot where the carpet met the wall. He hadn’t come down for dinner. I’d left a plate covered on the counter and it was still there when I came up, the pasta gone cold. I closed the door behind me carefully so it wouldn’t click too loud. “You didn’t come down for dinner.” I said. "I wasn't hungry," he said flatly. I set my phone on the dresser and sat on my side of the bed. The mattress dipped under my weight. He didn’t look over, his shoulders were tight. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing," he said. "I'm just tired.” I watched the side of his face. The muscle near his jaw kept jumping. I knew that look. “You’ve been different since Nicholas left this afternoon,” I said. “You’re giving me one-word answers. You didn’t sit with us after t
Spencer's POV Scarlett was on the phone in the hallway when I sat down on the living room floor with Aiden. He had the tablet propped against a stack of books, the echo video already queued. Valeria sat at the table with her sketchbook open, pencil moving in short, precise strokes, but her eyes kept flicking toward the hall. She heard everything, so did I. “Yes… Emma’s proffer went clean." Scarlett said. "They’re locking the agreement today… No, Calista’s under watch but they haven’t moved publicly yet. They’re trying to keep the full weight of what Emma gave them from leaking until the supporting records are nailed down… Konrad’s still one step behind formal inclusion. Ashfield said we’ll know very soon whether they can bring him in properly.” "Uncle Spence," Aiden nudged my knee harder than necessary. “Frames.” “Forty-two,” I said, my eyes stayed on the screen but my attention didn’t. “Forty-three.” Scarlett hung up and came into the living room and stopped in the doorway, pho
Calista's POV I sat very still on the sofa, the phone dark in my lap, the message from Reid’s associate still burned into the screen even after it went black. Do not leave the country. My thumb hovered over the contacts. Nicholas. I stared at his name for a long time before I finally pressed it. The phone rang against my ear. Once. Twice. The sound was too loud in the empty room. Four times. Voicemail. His recorded voice came on, short and formal, the version he used for people he didn’t want to talk to. I hung up without speaking and lowered the phone. My hands were shaking. I could feel the shaking in my fingers against the glass. I tried again and got the same ringing, same voicemail, same dead air afterward. I stood up and walked to the window. Outside the light had gone thin and gray. I could see my own reflection faintly in the glass, hair pulled back too tight, face pale, eyes too wide. I looked like someone who had already lost and hadn’t admitted it yet. I dialed Emma'
Calista's POV I told myself nothing had happened yet. There was no official notice, no knock on the door. No agents standing in my living room with a warrant in their hands. The house was still quiet, the same expensive quiet it had always been, the low hum of the air conditioning, the faint tick of the clock on the mantel, the soft creak of the floorboards when I paced, for a few hours I almost believed that silence meant I still had time. Then the calls started going unanswered. The first one was a woman who used to handle small transfers for me without asking questions. I dialed her number and listened to it ring. Once. Twice. Five times. Voicemail. I left a message, voice carefully even. “It’s Calista. I need you to move something for me. Call me back as soon as you can.” I waited but the message stayed unread. The single check mark on the screen felt like a closed door. I tried a man at the bank next. The one who normally replied within minutes, sometimes seconds. I typed
Scarlett's POV The conference room smelled like burnt coffee and old printer toner.I sat at the long table with the sealed evidence box in front of Ashfield. Nicholas was two chairs down, elbows on the wood, the same exhausted focus he’d worn since last night still sitting on his face while Spencer stood near the wall, arms folded, quiet but present. Richard had a laptop open and a legal pad already half-covered in notes.Ashfield broke the evidence tape with a clean snap. She opened the box and began laying the folders out in careful order, one after another, like she was building something that couldn’t be taken apart again.“These are foundation formation documents,” she said. “Dated eleven years ago with everything we've got. Pre-accident. Daniel Jackson’s signature chain across the corporate shells and the contingency structure. Medical payment records tied to Harris’s reconstructive surgery, drawn from the same pre-loaded account. The authorization and transfer that show Calis
Scarlett's POV Emma didn’t answer right away.She looked at Nicholas first, then at the pages spread across the table, then finally at me.“If I do this,” she said, “Konrad will know I betrayed him.”“He already knows you left him,” I answered quietly.“Leaving him and standing against him are two very different things.” her voice was low."You’ve already been standing against him by keeping those files," I kept my voice steady. “By walking out, sitting here tonight and putting them on this table. Testifying is just the part that makes it count for more than the three of us in this room.”Nicholas stayed silent beside the doorway, while Spencer hadn’t moved from his spot near the wall. Ashfield and Richard watched without interrupting.Emma’s gaze dropped to the payment authorization again, the one with Calista’s name and the date that sat weeks before the river. “I spent eleven years telling myself silence was the only way to keep anyone safe,” she said. “It didn’t keep anyone safe







