We went home at three.The penthouse received us the way it always did the skyline in the windows, the kitchen counter, the particular quality of a space that had become genuinely inhabited over the past two years. The listening devices had been removed by the security team the previous evening. The rooms felt different without them not because anything visible had changed, but because the knowledge that they were gone changed the quality of being there. The rooms were simply ours again. Private in the way they were supposed to be.Diana was asleep in the guest room. The door was closed. We moved quietly past it.I went to the nursery.Emmanuel was awake. Mrs. Harrington, the nurse, was sitting in the rocking chair reading she looked up when I came in with the warm, professional ease of a woman who had been doing this for twenty years and had learned to read the quality of returning parents accurately.“He’s been fed,” she said. “Changed. He had a good morning.”“Thank you,” I said. “
Last Updated : 2026-08-07 Read more