What Annabel did not like about weekends was Janice's unnecessary visits. Most of all, the traditional gathering that took place every Sunday. She much preferred being at work or with Roman, than being around her own family now. But today was yet another Sunday, and she was at home — only minding her own business this time. Annabel was sitting in the living room and reading a novel when she heard the laughter before she even turned to see where it was coming from. They were light, soft giggles coming from the kitchen. It was clearly Janice’s voice, and unmistakably Freya’s own coming after. It was the kind of laughter that made Annabel's stomach turn, not because it was loud, but because of what it meant.She stood up to leave, but paused at the doorway. They hadn’t seen her yet.“…if love paid bills, half the women in the world would be billionaires,” Janice was saying as she rinsed a teacup. Her tone had that wicked sweetness that she always used when she wanted to sound clever.

Freya stared at her phone for what felt like the tenth time that morning.There was still no response from her sister. Only two messages that got no response. Freya angrily threw her phone on her bed, then immediately picked it back up and typed another message: "Can we talk? Please." Then she deleted it."She hates me," Freya said to no one, then she got ready and left for work. And as she had been doing lately, Annabel was in Roman's apartment. She was wrapped around a throw blanket on Roman’s couch, as the scent of roasted garlic drifted from the kitchen. Kade was flipping channels with a look of intense concentration, like someone disarming a bomb."Can we not just watch something normal?" Kade asked. "Just once?""Define normal. If your abnormal show is that show with the rich humans screaming about family secrets, I already know it ends in betrayal and brunch."Annabel chuckled distantly. They ate and moved to the room."You’re quiet," he said gently. She turned toward him. "

Roman did not sleep throughout that night. He had spent most of it sitting at the edge of his bed, watching the digital clock tick from hour to hour. At some point, he stood up to pour himself a drink he didn't even touch, then he laid down again for twenty minutes just to stare at the ceiling. There was no point in pretending anymore, rest was out of reach for him now. By six-thirty, he was already in the shower, letting the hot water drum across his back as though it could wash off the previous day. But it didn’t. No amount of water could scrub the words “you’ve been served” from his memory.And to be honest, Roman was not really ready for another legal war. It was a tiring exercise. And he was mad at himself for seeing the signs of the fraudulent activities of the Valeys, and choosing to look away. Was it really worth it?He shaved carefully, put on a navy-blue suit, and selected a black tie with a minimal pattern. It was his normal routine, but something about the way he knot

The conference room on the forty-second floor of the Valey tower was cold. There were no windows and no distractions. Pope sat perfectly still at the head of the table with his hands folded beneath his chin as he read through the printed schedule for tomorrow’s court hearing. Even though it was night already, his suit remained neatly pressed and unwrinkled, as if it had been made exactly for this moment. Dexter leaned back in his chair across him, while chewing on a toothpick and spinning a silver pen between his fingers. Prance sat beside him, scrolling on a tablet, and occasionally tapping out notes.At the far end of the table, Ezra Winfield was flipping through a tabbed binder, page by page. He was skimming but not rushing. Every tab was color-coded. Every section was marked. And his glasses rested low on his nose.“So,” Ezra said without looking up, “we’re first on the docket. Judge Hauser. 9:00 a.m sharp.”“Hauser’s a stickler,” Pope said. “I assume you’ve played this clean?”

The morning light was very bright. Annabel blinked against it, realizing only as she sat up that she hadn’t made it to her bed the previous night. She was still curled on the living room couch, with a thin throw blanket tangled around her legs. Her sweatshirt was rumpled from hours of restless half-sleep.Her mouth was dry. Her head ached from the tension that had knotted her entire body and refused to let go.Her phone buzzed once on the table, and it made her stomach tighten immediately. She picked it up without thinking. It was Roman.The message was clipped. “I’m sorry. Call me when you’re ready.”She stared at it for a long time. She could almost hear his voice, the way it had sounded when he tried to explain, right before everything had broken.Annabel kept the phone back down without replying. She pushed herself up and made her way toward the kitchen. She found a little solace in the normal rhythm of her morning routine, which was coffee, breakfast, emails and other mundane st