(Margot)The images came through a few hours ago so I know Serena has them too.That was the arrangement. Savannah thinks she is in control of this, but that media contact I gave her has been mine for many years.An hour ago I gave the okay for the pictures to be released to the world.No caption. No context needed.They’re unmistakable, Savannah and James, firelight, the moment before their lips met, and then the kiss itself. Five perfect frames that do all the heavy lifting.She finally got the job done. I bet he isn’t happy about it either. But I’ll calm him down. I always do.I smile and get my purse. It’s time I rounded up my wayward child and got him back on track. And while I’m at it, I’ll work on a Serena scandal to nail it down.The media outlets will swarm over these pictures.I check in quickly on my cell phone.Headlines pivot in real-time:“Hale Heir and Ex-Fiancée Rekindle Romance.”“The Prince Returns to His First Love… Where’s Serena?”“Savannah Blake: Hale Royalty A
(Serena)My message tone sounds.No name. No subject line. Just five images.Five perfectly timed, perfectly damning frames.I flick through them and my gut churns.The first shows the two of them lying on some old blanket, fire in the background.James relaxed, too close. Savannah’s hand propped under her chin, her eyes fixed on him.The second photo… she’s leaning in.Third… he’s not pulling away.Fourth… their mouths meet.Fifth… he’s still there.I don’t know how long I stare at them.My sisters keep talking around me, laughing about Haylee’s latest app date who apparently owned four reptiles and zero sheets.I hear it all distantly. Like I’m behind glass.Then Erin says, “Serena?”“What?”“You look like you saw a ghost,” Marcy adds, halfway off the couch already. “What are you staring at?”Haylee grabs my phone before I can stop her. “Whoa, okay, uh—”Her eyes scan the screen. Her expression shifts from confusion to fury. “Are you freaking kidding me?”She hands it off to Marcy a
(James)Her lips are soft. Familiar.It takes a single breath for my brain to catch up to the mistake.For the truth to slam through the fog of nostalgia like a freight train.I jerk back like I’ve been burned. “What the hell are you doing?”Savannah’s eyes flutter open, her expression flickering from triumphant to confused. “What?”I shove her back so fast she gasps, rolling back on the blanket. She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.“What the actual hell was that?” I demand, standing up. “You said this was about closure. About peace. About friendship.”She stands up quickly. “I never said we didn’t still have something.”“I did,” I protest. “I’ve said it a hundred times.”“You let me believe it,” she fires back, straightening. “You came here. You said you missed us.”“Not like that, Savannah. I never meant that.”“You think I kissed you out of nowhere?” Her voice sharpens. “You think I imagined your feelings for me?”“Yes,” I shoot back. “Stop this fantasy you keep trying to sell
(Serena)Meanwhile….“I wish you could’ve seen them,” I say, dropping a plate of Mom’s cookies in the middle of the coffee table and flopping onto the couch.“James looked like he’d been mugged by a bottle of tequila. Theo had his hoodie pulled over his face like he was in mourning. Ezra was sipping flat Coke like it was intravenous hydration.”“Wait, wait—Ezra?” Erin asks from the armchair. “Who’s Ezra?”“Oh yeah,” I say. “Ezra is the intern. He is hilarious and he does not have any filter when it comes to calling James out. I almost felt bad for his hangover status. Almost.”“I hope you yelled?” Haylee asks, eyes glittering with glee as she passes me a mug coffee she absolutely spiked with butterscotch schnapps.“I was a loud as I could be. Which wasn’t hard because I was so pissed. I mean, getting so drunk he had no clue what he was saying to anyone… But I still say it was Savannah.”However, true to their word, the media was gone when I got back here and Mom and Dad went off to th
(Savannah)The fire crackles low in the old Whitaker hearth, a faint wind moaning through the broken panes above us.The shadows stretch long across the stone floor, dancing across the soot-streaked walls.James lies back beside me on the old plaid blanket that was still shoved in the cupboard where we left it.He’s quieter than I expected.His head is turned toward the fire, one arm slung across his middle, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows.He looks wrecked. I think the running might have almost done us both in. We sure don’t have the fitness we did as kids.Leg day does not equate to running. But he’s here, with me.He likes this version of me. This old friend, young girl version of me. I don’t mind. The baby didn’t work so I pivot.But I’ll never be her again. I’ve learned my lesson. You can’t trust anyone. Not even those you love. Especially not those you love.My eyes are on the prize. Mrs. Hale. It’s who I was born to be and who I will be.I don’t fill the silence. Not yetTh
(James)The headache still hasn’t gone.I’m dressed and drinking water, can’t stomach food yet.The dull ache persists, but deep, like a bruise under my skull.I’ve had water, coffee, aspirin. I even tried sleep but Serena’s words are on repeat in my head. Did I say anything when I was out. I wish I could remember. Did Savannah leak it to the media?The AI system tells me Savannah is at the front door. Maybe I’m about to find out. I tell the system to let her in.Savannah comes into the sitting room where I’m spread across the sofa.She’s dressed simply. Hoodie, boots, tied-back hair. She looks like herself, or the version of herself I remember before everything broke apart. It’s actually nice to see her without makeup, fake lashes, and hair that doesn’t budge.“That was hectic,” she says. Her voice is calm. Unshaken.“Yeah,” I say. My voice is hoarse. “Tell me about it.”She walks in further and sits in the armchair. “Serena came to see me.”“I know,” I say. “What happened? She wa