The following morning, Van sat in his corner office with the skyline stretched wide beyond the glass. The city shimmered below— steel and shadow and movement— but the noise stayed out. Inside, it was all silence. He stared at the unopened email on his screen for the third time in twenty minutes. Subject: Q3 Forecast — Urgent Review Needed He didn’t open it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, elbows resting on the leather armrests, and tried not to picture Ivy’s face from the night before— the way she’d watched him, like someone looking at a familiar painting that suddenly seemed… different. She hadn’t accused him of anything. She hadn’t even raised her voice. But she knew something. And Lila? Lila had gone right back to playing the helpful guest, the live-in family friend who folded the twins’ laundry and offered to make breakfast. As if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t called him home with a lie about a child fainting just to try to force herself on him in the hallway

The mansion woke slowly, Sunlight dripped through the tall windows, warm and golden, and the smell of coffee curled through the halls like an invitation. Ivy stood barefoot in the kitchen, her hair in a loose braid, sleeves rolled up as she whisked pancake batter in a white ceramic bowl. She didn’t glance up when Van entered. But he didn’t need her to. He moved to the counter beside her and reached for a pan, the same way he used to when they first moved into this place— before the titles, before the staff, before everything got so complicated. No words passed between them for a few minutes. Just the scrape of the whisk, the sizzle of butter, the low murmur of the twins upstairs. Finally, Van said quietly, “I can make the coffee.” “I already did.” He nodded. “Pancakes smell good.” “They’re not healthy,” she said without looking at him. “I’m spoiling them.” “They could use a little spoiling.” That earned him the smallest smile. Not full. Not forgiving. But somethin

It started with a phone call.Not from Van. Not from the kids’ school but from Macy.“Ivy,” she said, breathless. “I just saw her.”Ivy was standing in the middle of the kitchen, the scent of fresh bread still in the air. “Who?”“Lila. I swear it was her. At the corner of Eighth and Bell. She was wearing a big coat and sunglasses, but I’d know that walk anywhere.”Ivy’s stomach dropped.“You’re sure?”“I followed her for half a block, but she ducked into one of those new cafés. Ivy, she looked right at me—and smiled.”Ivy hung up only after reassuring Macy she was fine. But the second the call ended, she grabbed her coat and keys.She didn’t tell Van.Not yet.She needed to see for herself.The cafe was one of those minimalist places with matte black walls and gold -stemmed light fixtures. Ivy walked past it twice before she worked up the nerve to step inside.It was quiet. Midday lull.Only a few patrons sat scattered in the sleek booths— one woman in a blazer tapping on a laptop, tw

Lila didn’t need to be close to see.She had the angle. The lenses. The patience.The park was a perfect theater —no cover, no shadows. The benches curved around the fountain in a soft crescent, like an audience waiting for a show to start.And there she was.Ivy.Sunglasses on. Shoulders squared. Hair pulled into a neat twist, not a strand out of place. The twins laughing beside her, tugging at the edges of her coat, full of questions and sticky fingers and joy.Lila didn’t blink.She studied every detail.The way Ivy sat, spine straight. The way she smiled, but not too much. A practiced smile, not born of ease but purpose.She was performing.Not for the children.For her.Lila shifted slightly behind the tinted windows of her borrowed car. She didn’t need to get closer. She’d done this long enough to know when someone was trying to speak without words.Ivy was saying;I know you’re watching. And I’m not afraid.Lila’s fingers clenched on her lap. She forced herself to relax them.T

It started with a name.Not one he spoke aloud.Just one he typed into a private browser window after Ivy had gone to bed.Alan Greaves.His butler had told him that that was his father’s old legal advisor. The man who had helped restructure the company when it was at the verge of going bankrupt all those years ago. Van barely knew the man. He had only met him a handful of times and he felt that Alan had always been tight-lipped.Friendly, in a sterile sort of way.But something about Lila’s tone— the casual confidence— made Van wonder if that man had been less loyal than he seemed. He remembered him leaving suddenly, right before Van took over. At the time, it had seemed like a retirement. Now, it felt like smoke.He stared at the search results. Nothing suspicious.But still— there was a file in the archives. Something about a sealed amendment to his father's will. It had always been off -limits.Van leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.He had promised Ivy.He had said it