The evening had been arranged with a precision that Darius rarely allowed himself. He had booked the reservation two weeks in advance, chosen the restaurant for its candlelit terrace overlooking the city, and spent longer than he'd ever admit deciding on his shirt. But none of that mattered when he finally saw Rhea step out of the car. She was breathtaking. The soft gold of her dress caught the streetlights, her hair falling in loose waves over one shoulder, and when she smiled at him, Darius momentarily forgot how to speak. "You're staring," Rhea teased, looping her arm through his. "Can you blame me?" he said, recovering his voice. "You look stunning tonight." "Well, it is my birthday. I had to make an effort. Mother wouldn't even let me leave the house, looking like a grandma." He laughed and pressed a kiss to her temple as they approached the restaurant's grand entrance, its glass doors glowing amber from within. But before they

The dorm room was a mess of half-packed bags and last-minute indecision, Charlie's side of the closet looking like it had been hit by a small, targeted hurricane. "You cannot bring three different button-downs to a backyard barbecue, Charlie," Darius said from the doorway, arms crossed, watching his roommate hold up two nearly identical blue shirts as though the fate of the evening depended on the choice. Charlie didn't respond, he just kept packing, bead of sweat trickling from his forehead. "Let's go." He said, hanging the bag on his shoulder. The drive out of the city took almost three hours, and somewhere around the second hour the skyline of glass towers and gated estates gave way to rolling hills, wooden fences, and modest houses with porch swings and flags hanging still in the afternoon heat. Darius kept glancing at Charlie, who had been unusually quiet since they left campus, his knee bouncing against the passenger door, a small duffel bag clutched

Darius watched from a distance as Nathaniel paced the lawn, his phone jammed against his ear while his free hand cut the air in angry gestures. He looked very angry, that made Darius wonder what could be wrong. What he was saying didn't quite reach Darius, but he didn’t need them. Slowly, he stood. His eyes stayed locked on Nathaniel’s back as he turned the corner toward garden. At first, Darius thought of calling Charlie's attention, but he thought Nathaniel could have disappeared before he returned. He pushed himself off the pillar, taking a step forward, already forming the question he intended to ask — is everything alright? — when a hand closed firmly around his shoulder. He spun around, startled, and found Charlie standing there, brows drawn together, one of his eyes narrowed with open suspicion. "Are you eavesdropping on my brother's call?" Charlie asked, his voice low but pointed. Darius blinked, caught off guard by the accusation. "What? No.

The building didn't look like much from the outside — a squat, unassuming block of gray stone tucked between a shuttered print shop and an empty lot, the kind of place a person could walk past a hundred times without a second glance. That was, Valerio suspected, precisely the point. He had to confirm the address sent to him again and again to be sure he hadn't been somewhere else. He straightened his jacket as the car pulled away behind him, smoothed a hand once through his hair, and stepped through the unmarked door with easy confidence. The lobby, at least, matched the reputation. Marble floors, low lighting, a quiet that seemed to swallow sound whole. A young woman at the front desk looked up as he entered, her expression carefully. "Good afternoon," Valerio said, flashing the kind of grin that had gotten him out of more trouble than he could count. "Valerio Triesenberg. I have an appointment with Roberto." "Of course, Mr. Triesenberg

Neither of them spoke for most of the drive. Charlie kept the radio off, which was its own kind of statement, and Darius sat with the phone face-down on his knee like he could undo the last twenty minutes by not looking at it again. Every so often he caught himself doing the math anyway in his head. "Darius." Charlie finally broke the quiet, his voice careful. "You've been staring through that windshield like it personally wronged you. Are you gonna tell me what happened or I'll have you thrown out of the car." "I'm right, Charlie!" Darius exhaled slowly, "I didn't want to be." "And what's that?" "That was a toxicology report I just received. Someone has been poisoning my grandfather through his meds." Charlie sat up straighter. "Wait—what? Poisoned? By who?" "That's what I don't know." Charlie went quiet, absorbing it, then reached over and gripped Darius's shoulder. "Then we find out who's doing it. Whatever you need, I'm in."