Mag-log inNATHANIELI can already tell the thoughts that are sitting inside her head right now.Who is she? Why didn’t he mention her? Why does he look comfortable sitting there? Is she the reason he has disappeared?She doesn’t scroll any further. She simply lowers the phone slowly before tossing it onto the armchair behind me like suddenly touching it has become unbearable.And without a single word, she turns around and walks back to the couch she was sitting on earlier and grabs her phone.Then, she begins walking towards the door, and without thinking, my hand grabs her wrist just as she is about to pass me, and I pull her gently but firmly enough to stop her.“Betty, wait…”She spins halfway toward me, startled by the contact, and yanks her hand away like I am contagious, making her stumble backward slightly.“That photo doesn’t mean anything.”The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and the second they do, confusion hits me hard because what the fuck?Am I seriously standing her
NATHANIELMy phone vibrates against my palm, and the sound cuts through the quiet living room instantly.It’s a text from my FBI contact. “Found something on Rhys. I need you to wire the payment first.”A dry scoff escapes me. Of course, he wants the money up front. But honestly, I cannot even blame him.These days, everyone moves like they are one bad decision away from betrayal. Trust has become something people sell in pieces, and after everything that happened with Amanda, I am not exactly in a position to judge.The memory tries to surface, but I shove it away immediately before it poisons this moment, too.I navigate toward my banking app and quickly transfer the agreed-upon fifteen thousand dollars without hesitation.The second the confirmation clears, another notification pops up.A folder with photos. And alongside it, a short message. “Here is everything I could pull from the last twenty-four hours on short notice.”My chest tightens. Because across the room, Betty still ha
BETTYI am pretty sure this is the longest Nathaniel and I have ever been in the same room without yelling at each other, throwing accusations back and forth, or looking at one another like we would rather be anywhere else on earth.And that’s why this has been nothing but uncomfortable.The living room is quiet except for the occasional tick of the giant clock mounted near the hallway and the soft crackling of the fireplace across the room.I am seated near the window, curled into the edge of the couch, while Nathaniel occupies the armchair closest to the door, as if both of us unconsciously chose positions that would make escape easier if this became too much.Harriette left almost an hour ago, claiming she needed her beauty rest before she “aged ten years from stress,” before pointing her cane at both of us dramatically and ordering us to wake her up the second we heard anything about Rhys.I cross one leg over the other before uncrossing it again moments later, my heel tapping ligh
NATHANIELFor several long minutes, I simply stand there motionless while the vest clings heavily against my body and droplets run down my face in steady streams.It feels strange. Like waking up after being unconscious for too long, before my hands eventually move.The soaked vest lands on the floor first. Then the sweatpants.Steam thickens around me while I drag both hands through my wet hair and force myself to keep moving.I step out several minutes later, stop in front of the mirror, and my hand reaches for the shaving cream automatically.The foam spreads across my face slowly before I grab the razor.The first swipe feels almost foreign against my skin, but gradually my hands begin to move faster and steadier, until hair starts to disappear into the sink, my actual face beginning to return beneath all the damage.“There you are,” I mutter. Still exhausted. Still hollowed out.But at least now I resemble Nathaniel Blackwell again, rather than some conspiracy theorist living ben
NATHANIELThey have been sitting out there for almost 2.5 hours now. And I know because I have not stopped watching them once.From the balcony outside my room, the garden stretches beneath me in soft evening light, the roses swaying gently every time the wind brushes through them, while the fountain somewhere in the distance pours water in quiet little streams against stone.Right in the middle of all that calm sit Betty and Harriette with enough tension wrapped around them that even from up here, I can feel it.Harriette keeps adjusting the spoon beside her teacup without actually drinking anything.Betty keeps checking her phone every few minutes before placing it back down again, only to grab it again moments later, like somehow the screen might suddenly change if she stares at it hard enough.My fingers tighten unconsciously around the whiskey bottle hanging loosely from my hand.I have only taken one sip since I retrieved it from the cellar after they left me standing there alon
BETTYI feel overwhelmed by the time Harriette finishes speaking.Not in a dramatic, earth-shattering kind of way, but in the quiet kind of way that slowly settles inside your chest and refuses to leave.Because nothing about this visit is going the way I imagined.I came here expecting tension, resistance, coldness, maybe even a fight if I am being honest with myself.Yet somehow, I’ve ended up seated in Harriette’s garden while she orders tea and snacks like I had merely returned from a short vacation instead of disappearing from this house for three whole months.The staff moves around us quietly, placing everything on the small round table between us with familiar ease.A silver tea set. Chocolate chip cookies. Small pastries. Fresh fruit.And somewhere inside the house, someone is apparently preparing my favorite meal together with Grace’s favorite strawberry milkshake because, according to her, I can’t go back to her empty-handed.The entire thing feels strangely domestic. Warm.
NATHANIELThe phone buzzes in my pocket just as I reach the front doors of the mansion.I hesitate, my hand lingering on the handle while the vibration continues against my thigh, steady and insistent.I consider ignoring it entirely because the last thing I want right now is a conversation I don’t
NATHANIELChris chuckles beside me. “Don’t mind him. He’s had a few too many.”Daphne nods in agreement.I take the second shot, and this time I fail entirely at hiding the burn, which earns laughter from all of them. I should have probably just stayed home.“Anyway,” Chris says, settling back, “it’
NATHANIELGlasses meet one another constantly throughout the hall, the sound carrying above polite conversation and carefully measured laughter between guests.Most of the faces surrounding me remain unfamiliar, even though they stand on my family’s estate, their comfort obvious.Amanda’s family an
BETTYMrs marshal leaves the café, and I remain seated long after our handshake has ended, staring down at the rectangle of paper resting against the dark, polished table.Ten thousand dollars. My name written carefully across the center, her signature firm at the bottom.The café hums around me —







