(Margot)The knock comes just after eight.I’m still in the drawing room, staring into a glass of wine.Charles sits in the opposite armchair, flicking through papers. He’s avoiding talking to me.I haven’t asked him about the alone time with Nico.He is not telling me anything of course. So I sip my wine and plan my next move.If I move fast I should be able to secure James enough board support to keep him at the helm despite his personal dalliances.This is what happens when emotions get involved. People can step in and blindside you.The AI announces Theo is waiting outside the door.“Let him in,” Charles says without looking up.Theo steps inside. His face tells me this isn’t a social call. Not that it would be.“Mr. Hale. Mrs. Hale.”Charles sets his papers aside. “You look like hell, Theo. What now?”“I’ve just come from the office. I need to update you both on a few matters.”“Couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” Charles asks, leaning back in his chair.“No.” Theo looks at me first.
(Serena)Theo’s email pings my phone five minutes after I send him the screenshot of the storm map.It’s everything he has- flight path details, takeoff time from Lapland, last known coordinates before the tracker went silent.I call reception and ask if they can do some printouts for me. They give me their email and I send the files.In around half and hour there’s aknock at the door and a young man hands me the printouts.“Thank you.” I give him a generous tip.He grins, nods and leaves again.I spread the printout on the bed beside the map of the marked storm area. I stare at the red line that is James’ jet which just… stops.Right in the middle of the storm’s worst cell.My stomach knots up.The data looks clinical- latitudes, longitudes, timestamps- but all I see is that frozen gap where the rest of the journey should be.I message Theo.What does it mean, exactly?A moment later, the reply: The transponder dropped out there. They could have flown after that. Doesn’t mean they st
(Serena)We land in Oulu just after dark.The runway is wet with snowmelt, the air sharp when I step down onto the tarmac. It’s not where I planned to be tonight, but the storm over Lapland made it impossible to get through.I probably should’ve checked first instead of leaving so spur of the moment.The pilot arranged the diversion. Apparently, this kind of thing happens.As soon as the cabin door closes behind me, I flick my phone off airplane mode.A new message appears instantly.James: I want to talk. Headed to Paris now.Oh okay. Damn. I wonder if he’s still up this way. This was sent just as we took off.I tap out a reply immediately: On way back to you. Where r u now?The little sending wheel spins. Then fails. Not delivered.I try again. Same thing.I hit the call symbol. Right to message bank.Maybe he’s in the air. We’ve probably passed each other.The pilot, walking past with his bag.“Hey, can you tell me about the storm in Lapland? How bad is it?”“Not the worst but it h
(Nico)Charles pats me on the shoulder. Like he’s proud of me.That alone surprises me.I don’t want to feel anything by that. I’m not here to get his approval. I want to hate him.I don’t want to need his approval in any way. I’ve gotten this far without him, I do not need him now.He doesn’t smile again, but he doesn’t recoil either. There’s something deliberate in his posture.Like a man not just accepting a truth but owning it. At least for now.Margot rises. Her voice cuts through the room like a knife. “We’re done here.”Charles turns to her. “No. I’m not. But you are.”She glares at him. “Don’t do this.”“I’m going to speak with my son. Alone.”“Charles.”“Leave us.” He says a little louder now.“I don’t think so.”“Margot.” His voice is calm, but it has an edge that could slice a wall in two. “Out.”She stares at him like he’s grown horns. “You’re asking me to leave you alone with him?”“I’m not asking.” He moves to the door and opens it himself. “I’ll see you back at the pent
(Margot)He’s late.I check the time again. It’s only been two minutes since the last time.No, he still has a minute to arrive.Charles sits beside me, apparently unbothered. But I know better.Thirty-two years of marriage teaches you about a man. His face might be marble, but there’s tension in his hands.He’s curious. Maybe even anxious.He should be. I am. This meeting could break everything.I shift in my chair. I haven’t been nervous like this in decades.Back then, I had nothing but ambition. Charles was the one with all the power. Now, I have everything to lose.The door clicks open. Dead on 10 a.m.He’s here.Nico Morel.I stare at him.This isn’t what I expected. No false arrogance. No gold chains. No theatrical entrance.He’s not swaggering in like some cliché with entitlement leaking from his pores. He walks in like he owns the room, but not because of ego… because he knows he has a reason to.That’s worse.Tall, sharp suit, even sharper expression. He doesn’t hesitate. Do
(James)It’s only been a day. Clearly, she isn’t pining over missing me.But then... no. I shake my head.I know better. I know how this shit works. Photos lie. Timelines blur.Headlines exaggerate.And even if she is laughing, even if she is with someone …she deserves that. Space. Distance. Normalcy.A chance to remember what it’s like to be herself.She gave me her truth. All of it. And it nearly broke her open in front of me.I can’t begrudge her for living.Hell, she didn’t even know if I’d ever respond. Why should she mope around?I scroll again. Zoom in on the picture of him. I do an image search.Claude Moreau- Designer. Nephew of fashion icon Sabine Moreau.Ah. That makes sense. Sabine is making sure Serena is taken care of while in Paris.I stare at Serena’s face.I miss her. God, I miss her.I pull out my phone again. Hit call.It diverts to voicemail. I don’t leave a message.She’ll call me when she’s ready. If I’m blocked, I guess I’ll work it out.I need to see her. I nee