ВойтиScarlett's POV I woke up at five fourteen.Not the alarm. Just me, staring at the ceiling in the dark with Nicholas's question sitting in the room the same way it had been sitting there since last night.Would you be willing to see her?Spencer was asleep beside me. His breathing slow and even. I lay there for a few minutes looking at the ceiling and then I got up carefully and found my robe and went to the kitchen.The apartment was completely quiet.I put the coffee on and stood at the garden window while it brewed. The garden was still dark outside, just the shape of it visible in the early morning, the bare patch where the sunflowers were supposed to go still waiting. Valeria's plan was on the fridge behind me. Nine color codes. Everything mapped out and ready. Just waiting for the right time.I looked at the bare dirt and thought about Emma at the dinner table. Her hands pressed together in her lap when Konrad spoke. The specific stillness of a woman who had learned a long time
Scarlett's POVThe kitchen smelled like fresh toast and coffee when Aiden came in. I was packing lunches, when I caught it. He moved slower than usual, shoulders a little rounded, like the weight of his backpack was already too much."Good morning," I said."Morning." His voice came out flat. He crossed to the table and sat down and put both hands on the surface and looked at them.I watched him from the counter."You okay?" I said."Yeah." He didn't look up. "Just tired.""Did you sleep?""I think so." He pressed his fingers against the table like he was checking the surface. "My head hurts a little."I set the lunch box down."Since when?" I asked."Since I woke up." He finally looked at me. "It's not bad. Just there."I looked at his face. He seemed a little pale. Not enough for most people to notice, but I noticed. I always noticed things like that. Being both a surgeon and a mother made it impossible not to."Have some water," I said. "Before anything else."He got up and filled
Calista's POV The line rang twice before a deep, calm voice answered. “Hello, this is Michael Reid.”“Michael, it’s Calista Lancaster." I said. "We met at the charity gala two years ago. I need your help. Now. Off the books. Completely independent.”He paused for a moment. No surprise in his tone.“Calista. I remember. Give me a moment.” I heard a door close on his end. “I’m alone now. Speak freely, but carefully. What’s the situation?”“I’m in deep mess." I paced faster. "Ten years ago, my sister was in a car accident. Drove off the road into a river. It wasn’t random. Someone wanted her gone. The investigation got buried fast. Now she’s back, alive, powerful, and building a federal case. My family’s name is all over it and someone close just walked out of the estate this morning. She’s talking. I need options. Real ones.”Daniel exhaled slowly, the sound of a man who had heard worse but still took it seriously. “Alright." He said calmly. "Start from the beginning. Keep it high-lev
Calista's POV My phone buzzed on the marble island while I was pouring a second glass of Sauvignon Blanc. The number was one of the estate’s housekeeping extensions,the older woman who handled Mother’s linens. I almost ignored it. Staff calls were usually trivial. But something in the timing, right after Father’s tense family meeting last night, made me swipe to answer.“Miss Calista,” the woman said, voice hushed like she was speaking from inside a closet. “I thought you should know. Mrs. Emma left the estate this morning. With Master Nicholas. He drove her himself. They took a small bag from the east wing. She didn’t say when she’d be back.”I set the wine bottle down too hard. Red liquid sloshed onto the counter. “What do you mean, left?" I asked. "Like a trip? Doctor’s appointment?”“No, miss. It wasn’t planned." She said quietly. "He showed up unannounced, walked with her in the garden, and then they were gone. Your father said ‘fine’ at breakfast and that was all. The whole h
Nicholas's POV My mother smoothed the necklace with her fingertips once, then closed the drawer. She turned to me with that composed expression that had carried her through decades of estate dinners and silent calculations. “Thank you for the room, Nicholas." She said. "It’s more than enough.”I nodded, unsure what else to say. The apartment suddenly felt too quiet, the hum of the refrigerator and distant city traffic the only sounds filling the space. “"I’ll figure out dinner." I said. "There’s a place nearby that does decent meals, or I can put something together here.”“Order in,” she said. “Neither of us needs to pretend we’re playing house with pots and pans tonight.” I placed the order while she moved into the living area, her steps still measured from the post-surgery routine.She walked slowly along the bookshelves, fingers trailing over the spines. “No family photos on display. No portraits. Just these technical volumes on contracts and finance.” She paused at the large
Nicholas's POV The gates opened at 7:15 the next morning. I hadn’t called ahead. No text, no warning. Just the car rolling up the long drive under a sky still heavy with overnight clouds. Sleep had been nonexistent after the call with Scarlett. Her words kept looping, Your mother isn’t safe at that estate, mixing with the memory of My father's flat gaze across the sitting room the night before. I gripped the wheel tighter as the main house came into view, stone and glass and decades of controlled power.I parked near the side entrance, the one closest to the gardens. No staff greeted me. The air outside carried that damp morning chill, the kind that clung to your collar and made every breath feel deliberate. I followed the gravel path that wound past the rose beds toward the lower terrace. My mother walked there every morning now, slow and measured steps following the post-surgery instructions Scarlett had drilled into her. She was halfway along the path when I spotted her, a light







