Mag-log inCHAPTER 54: SOKOLOV IN PERSONViktor Sokolov is smaller than I expected.Not short. Average height, with the kind of build that reads larger in photographs than it does in actual rooms. He's somewhere in his late fifties, silver-haired, with the unhurried movements of someone who stopped being in a hurry a long time ago because he no longer has to be. He wears a dark suit with no tie, which in a formal meeting setting is a choice rather than an oversight it says I set the register, not you. He arrives exactly on time, which in a man of his resources is also a choice. He shakes Dominic's hand first and then mine, and holds mine a half-second longer than is standard. Not inappropriate. Just noted.We're in the Laurent Industries boardroom. Sokolov requested neutral ground and this is what we offered a table we chose, in a building we control, which is not neutral at all but lets him believe it is. He brought one person: a woman in her forties with close-cut hair and a leat
CHAPTER 53: ISABELLE LEAVESShe is gone before six.I know because I hear nothing. No Mara at 4 AM, which she was doing reliably every morning she was here, no footsteps in the guest wing at five, no water running. I wake up at five-forty to feed Helena and the house has a different feeling, the particular spaciousness of a building that is holding fewer people than it was the night before. I notice this without being able to explain how I notice it.I feed Helena. I changed her. I set her in the bassinet and I walk down the hallway to the guest wing door and I push it open.The room is made up. Neat in a way it wasn't when Isabelle occupied it the duvet pulled straight with the kind of precision that takes effort at five in the morning, the pillows stacked, the bedside table cleared of the small collection of things that accumulate around a person even in four days. A water glass, a phone charger, a paperback Isabelle had been reading with a receipt used as a bookmark. All of it
CHAPTER 52: PATERNITYHe tells me on a Tuesday morning, before work, before the rest of the house is moving.I'm making coffee when he comes into the kitchen. He's already dressed, which means he's been up for a while, and he has the look of someone who made a decision in the night and has spent the dark hours living with it rather than fighting it. He closes the kitchen door behind him, which he only does when he wants the conversation to stay between us and not travel down the hallway to wherever Mrs. Chen is moving around in the early morning.He says: "I've arranged a paternity test. Private lab, no clinic, results in four days. I wanted you to know before I told anyone else. Before James, before the lawyers, before anyone."I put the coffee down.The thing about the grey eyes was always going to need answering. I knew that. I think he knew I knew that, and I think he did this partly because he wanted the answer and partly because he couldn't let me carry the questio
CHAPTER 51: MOTHER'S MOVEEleanor calls on a Sunday morning.Not a coincidence. Eleanor has never done anything by accident in her life, and Sunday morning is the time when people are home, when guards are down, when the business week feels far enough away that a personal call doesn't feel like an intrusion. She knows this. She uses it.I'm in the kitchen when my phone lights up with her name. Helena is the bouncer. The coffee is fresh. Isabelle left yesterday, as agreed, without a goodbye and without the coat she came in, which I only noticed after the car took her. I haven't told Dominic about the coat yet. I've been thinking.The phone rings a second time.I picked it up."Iris." Her voice is warm the way a room is warm when someone has turned the heating up specifically before you arrived. Deliberate. A service being provided. "It's been too long.""Eleanor.""How is the baby? Helena, isn't it?" She says the name like she has looked it up. Which she has, probably, because Eleanor
CHAPTER 50: CONFRONTATIONI waited until after lunch.Not because I need more time to decide what to say. I decided that in the laundry room this morning, standing in the smell of detergent with the machine running and the phone in my hand. I wait because Dominic comes home at twelve-thirty, which I was counting on, and because the confrontation needs to happen with him present. Not for backup. Isabelle's whole play depends on keeping Dominic and me in separate rooms, feeding us separate versions of the same story, and I am not going to let her do that.He finds me in the kitchen. I show him the photograph on my phone before he's taken his coat off. He reads the notification preview once. Then he looks at me."When did you find it?""Last night."He is quiet for three seconds, which for Dominic is a long time. Then he nods, once, and hangs up his coat.We go together.Isabelle is in the sitting room with Mara on the floor mat between her feet, a cloth book open in her hands that she's
CHAPTER 49: THE BURNER PHONEI didn't try to unlock it that night.I stand in the dark hallway for another minute, just holding it, and then I put it back exactly where I found it., deep in the left pocket of Isabelle's coat., and I hang the coat on the rack and go back to bed.I lie there for an hour, not sleeping, the house settling around me in its familiar night sounds.The thing about finding something you weren't supposed to find is that you have two choices. You can use it immediately, when your hands are still warm from it and your mind is still loud. Or you can wait, and think, and decide what you actually want to know before you go looking for it. The second way is harder. It's also the only way to do it without making a mistake you can't take back.I wait.In the morning I get up before anyone else. I feed Helena. I make coffee. I listen to the house, Mrs. Chen's footsteps starting in the kitchen at six-thirty, the water running in the guest wing bathroom at te
The words hang between us like sparklers in darkness. Beautiful, dangerous, impossibly bright.Neither of us moves for a moment. The library is quiet around us, moonlight coming through the tall windows in long silver panels across the floor. The lamp in the corner throws just enough warmth to see
The hospital smells like my worst memories. Antiseptic and fear and the particular stillness that comes before bad news.Victor is already in the waiting room when we get there. He's sitting in one of the plastic chairs with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, and when he looks up at
I wake up not knowing whose blood is on my hands. Literally on my hands. Until I remember: I fired the gun.The ceiling is white and the sheets are stiff and scratchy against my arms and for a confused second I think I'm back in the first hospital, waiting for news about Sebastian. Then I turn my h
CHAPTER 24: VICTOR'S CONFESSIONVictor Laurent has always seemed invincible. Until now, sitting in his leather chair, looking every one of his sixty-eight years.His study smells like old books and cedar and the particular weight of a room where serious things have been decided for deca







