LOGINPOV: Avalon Pierce
Avalon noticed that Catherine, seated across from them with her hands clasped together, appeared worn out, her expression more fatigued than remorseful.
"Catherine spoke in a hushed tone, 'Margaret is mistaken about who has control over that account, or to be more precise, she's correct about the flow of money, but incorrect about the person actually pulling the strings.'"
"Explain," Selene said.
Catherine spoke up, "The account is mine, but after I was in the hospital, I gave someone permission to handle my finances." She paused, looking down at her hands. "I trusted Diana to take care of things while I was getting better," she said, her voice a little shaky.
The room went very still.
"Diana worked with the government to build our case," Avalon explained, choosing his words carefully. "Without her, we wouldn't have half the evidence we do today."
"She cooperated," Catherine said, "and in doing so, she made herself useful to the prosecutor and invisible to suspicion. Nobody questions the person who handed over the evidence."
Selene looked at Avalon.
"Diana had a way into your account” she asked Catherine, her voice low and serious. "And a reason to use it, too?"
"What motive," Avalon said.
Catherine was quiet for a moment.
"Diana didn't just give Hale information because he made her," she said, choosing her words carefully. "At first, I think she did some of it on her own, willingly. But then it got out of control. Whitmore was aware of that. He even threatened to tell everyone that Diana was a willing participant, not someone who was forced, if it meant he'd get a lighter punishment."
Selene warned, "She'll end up losing the entire deal, everything she's worked so hard to negotiate will just fall apart."
"Everything is at stake," Catherine said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Her freedom, and possibly even the rest of her life, hang in the balance."
Avalon sat back, processing.
He spoke slowly, his words dripping with realization. "She's been just a phone call away from every single part of this investigation," he said, his eyes locked on some point in the distance. "I mean, think about it - she's the one who tipped us off about Whitmore, who warned us about that car lurking outside our building, who sent us Henderson's file." His gaze shifted to Selene, a look of understanding passing between them. "It's clear now - she's been pulling the strings from the inside all along, managing this whole thing with precision."
"Maybe she's really trying to be helpful," Selene said, "and now we're on the verge of accusing someone of murder, all because of something she was allowed to know about."
"Catherine spoke up, her voice firm. 'There's only one way to find out for sure,' she said. 'I haven't had a chance to talk to my lawyer about this particular situation yet, I wanted to fill you in personally, before things get more complicated and other people start to get involved.'"
"Why," Avalon asked.
"Catherine spoke up, her voice filled with concern. To you, Diana is more than just a name on a piece of paper, she's someone you've put your faith in, someone who's been entrusted with sensitive information about your family. I don't want to be the one to unfairly damage that trust, so if I'm mistaken about this, please tell me."
They left just after two in the morning.
Selene just sat there in the car, not saying a word for what felt like a really long time.
"Do you believe her?" she asked.
Avalon spoke up, "I'm convinced the account access is genuine." He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing, "However, I'm not entirely sure it implies what Catherine seems to think it does."
"Diana has always been there for us," Selene said, "helping us out every time we needed it, without fail."
"I know."
"Doesn't that count for something."
"It means everything," Avalon said, her voice firm. "That's why I have to talk to her myself, instead of just guessing what she might think."
His phone buzzed.
Margaret.
He answered immediately.
"I cross-referenced the visitor logs at the facility where Whitmore was held," Margaret said. " Looking for anyone connected to Catherine's account who had physical access in the past month."
"And?"
"Nobody visited," Margaret said. " But someone called the facility seven times in the two weeks before Whitmore died. Same number, every time. I traced it."
"Whose number," Avalon said.
Margaret was quiet for a moment.
"The phone is registered to Diana," she explained. "However, the calls were made from different locations every time - always from payphones, and using burner numbers that were conveniently located near those payphones. It seems like someone was trying to avoid being traced, and they knew exactly how to do it. But, for some reason, they slipped up this one time."
Avalon spoke up, his words coming out slowly. "That's not Diana's style," he said. "She's always careful, always thinks things through. There's no way she'd make a mistake like that."
"Unless someone wanted it to look like Diana," Selene said softly.
Avalon looked at her.
"Someone must have been aware of her connection to Catherine's account," Selene said, her voice low and thoughtful. "They knew exactly how to set her up, to make it look like she was the one who did it."
POV: Avalon PierceSelene called her father one final time that autumn, not out of obligation, but because something in her had settled enough to want closure rather than distance.He answered on the second ring, his voice older, steadier than she remembered.“I got married again,” she said. “Properly this time.”“I’m glad,” he said, and she could hear that he meant it.“I’m not calling to reconcile,” she said. “I want to be clear about that.”“I understand,” he said.“I wanted you to know I’m happy,” she said. “Genuinely happy and that whatever happened between us, I’ve made peace with it. Not because you deserve peace but because I do.”There was a long pause on the line.“Thank you for telling me,” he said finally. “I hope you stay happy, Selene. I mean that.”“Goodbye,” she said, and meant it as final in the gentlest way she could manage.She hung up feeling nothing but lightness.That evening, the foundation’s fifth anniversary approaching, Avalon sat with Elena in the study, the
POV: Selene CastellanoAvalon asked her again on a Tuesday, the way he’d promised he would years before, except this time there was no crisis waiting in the wings, no Henderson Capital, no federal sentencing hanging over their heads.Just an ordinary evening, Elena and Robert asleep at Maya’s for the night, the two of them standing in the courtyard of the building they’d built together.“I want to marry you again,” he said. “Properly this time. Not because a will required it. Not because I finally got around to asking after everything settled. But, simply because I choose this, every single day, and I want to say it in front of everyone who helped us get here.”Selene looked at him.“You already asked me this,” she said. “The night Henderson’s resolution passed.”“I know,” he said. “I want to ask you where everyone can see it. Where Elena can watch her parents choose each other on purpose.”She felt her throat tighten.“Yes,” she said. “A thousand times, yes.”They married in the cour
POV: Avalon PierceFive years passed the way real years did, not in dramatic leaps but in the accumulation of ordinary days that eventually amounted to something enormous.Elena was eight now, sharp and certain and increasingly aware of the world she’d been born into. Robert was seven, quieter than his cousin but equally stubborn, the two of them inseparable in the way cousins raised in each other’s pockets often became.The foundation had expanded to three cities. The Riverside clinic had helped over four thousand families. Rosa Gutierrez had passed peacefully two years earlier, her building still standing, still in her family’s name.On a Sunday afternoon in October, Selene found Elena sitting on the floor of the foundation building, looking at the stone carving above the door from the inside, tracing the letters with her finger.“What does it mean,” Elena asked. “The question.”Selene sat down beside her.“It means we never stop asking what we’re actually trying to do,” she said. “
POV: Selene CastellanoThe building was finished in November, exactly on Kofi’s timeline, standing on Valencia Street with its wide windows and its courtyard already growing the peace lilies Maya had insisted on planting.Elena, now three and a half, stood at the entrance holding Avalon’s hand and staring up at the building.“Ours,” she said.“Ours,” Selene confirmed.Above the doorway, carved into simple stone, the same words that had opened everything two years before:What are we actually building toward?Beneath it, smaller: Lorraine Pierce, 1943-2024. She kept building.The opening ceremony drew three hundred people. Rosa Gutierrez, now with silver fully through her hair, cut the ribbon alongside Esperanza Reyes, who was eighty one now and needed a cane but refused any other assistance walking through the doors of the building her family’s story had helped create.Kevin Walsh’s program had grown to sixty young people. Evelyn stood at the front with tears she made no effort to hid
POV: Avalon PierceThe groundbreaking happened on a Saturday morning in March, exactly a year after Elena’s first birthday, and Avalon stood at the edge of the empty lot watching Selene explain the plans to a small crowd that had gathered without any formal invitation.Word had simply spread. Rosa Gutierrez told her neighbors. Kevin Walsh told the young people in his program. Esperanza Reyes, now eighty and moving more slowly but still sharp as ever, told everyone at her church.By the time the ceremonial shovels were handed out, nearly a hundred people stood on Valencia Street watching.“This isn't groundbreaking for us,” Selene said into the small microphone Amara had arranged. “It's groundbreaking for what this neighborhood already knew it deserved. We’re just finally building it.”The crowd applauded.Elena, nearly two years old now and increasingly opinionated about everything, stood between Avalon and Selene holding her own small plastic shovel that Maya had insisted on buying f
POV: Selene CastellanoThe foundation’s third year opened with a decision that had been building for months.Selene stood at the whiteboard on a Monday morning with Amara, James, and Nadia gathered around her, and she looked at the mark in the corner that was Nene’s handwriting and said what she’d been thinking since Elena’s birthday.“I want to build something permanent,” she said. “Not just programs. A building. A physical home for the foundation that isn’t a corner office we outgrew a year ago.”Amara looked at her carefully.“Where,” she said.“The Mission,” Selene said. “On Valencia Street. Near Rosa’s building. Near the clinic. Somewhere the community can walk to instead of us always being the ones who have to reach out.”James was already thinking through the practicalities. “That requires capital we haven’t budgeted for. And it requires an architect who understands what this place needs to be.”Selene smiled slightly.“I already have someone in mind,” she said.Kofi looked at
POV: Avalon PierceThe hospital corridor smelled like every hospital corridor.Antiseptic and recycled air and the stillness of a place where time moves differently than it does outside. Avalon had been in too many of them this year and he still hadn’t gotten used to it.He stood outside room 214 l
POV: Selene CastellanoThe doctor’s office smelled like recycled air and quiet anxiety.Selene had been in enough medical spaces over the past year that she’d stopped noticing them. But today she noticed — the particular hum of the ventilation, the paper sheet on the examination table that crinkled
POV: Selene CastellanoDiana answered on the third ring.“I know,” she said. Before Selene could speak. “Hale’s legal team served me this morning. They want my communications with him as part of their own defense strategy.”“Explain that to me.”“Hale’s lawyers are arguing that Diana was feeding in
POV: Avalon PierceThomas Reeves opened his door before Avalon knocked.The second time it happened, Avalon began to think the man had cameras.“Maya Castellano called me this morning,” Thomas said, stepping aside to let him in. “Directly. On my personal number, which I’d like to know how she obtai







