2025-06-08 20:56:50
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283. Suspicions
The mansion breathed easier these days.There was laughter in the kitchen again —soft and shy, but real. Ivy had started watering the balcony plants herself, a habit she’d dropped during the winter. Van had moved some of his meetings to remote calls so he could be home more often, especially in the mornings when the twins were at their wildest.The twins were thriving. Drawing spaceships and running around the halls, loud and confident. Ivy loved the noise. It made the house feel lived in.Still, the quiet between the joyful moments had a tension to it. Something unspoken.A waiting.On Wednesday, Ivy spent the afternoon organizing the front hall closet. It wasn’t necessary— it was already tidy —but her hands needed something to do. She was halfway through sorting winter coats when she found it.A pale green scarf, silk, expensive.Not hers.Not from her kids.Not from Van.Her chest tightened.She recognized it.Lila had worn it the week before she left.Ivy sat back on her heels, st
282. A Family
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
281. Healing
The house had fallen into that deep quiet that came after the twins were in bed. Their laughter, their stomping footsteps, their shrieking giggles—all gone now, folded into dreams. The hallway lights were dim. The curtains drawn. And somewhere behind the closed bedroom door, Ivy was likely lying in the dark, eyes open, not yet ready to forgive.Van stood in the downstairs hallway, just outside the guest wing.He didn’t knock.He opened the door and stepped inside.Lila was in her reading chair by the window, legs curled beneath her, a blanket draped casually over her lap. Her head tilted when she saw him.“Van,” she said with a soft smile. “I was wondering when you’d come talk to me.”He shut the door behind him. Not loudly, but with finality.She uncrossed her legs and sat straighter, pulling the blanket tighter like she was preparing for something intimate.He didn’t sit.“I talked to Ivy,” he said.Lila stilled. The smile on her face twitched, then settled back into place.“Oh?”“I
280. The Truth, Finally
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
279. Silent Pain
Van let himself into the mansion just after seven, the weight of the day pressing down on his shoulders harder than usual. His phone buzzed with after- hours texts— numbers, questions, updates— but he ignored them.The foyer was dim, the lights set to that soft amber glow Ivy always preferred in the evening. It was quiet, but not empty. He could hear the low hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen, the muted clatter of toys being gathered in the den. Chloe’s laugh echoed faintly upstairs.Home.He loosened his tie, slid off his shoes, and made his way down the hall.In the den, Ivy was crouched beside the bookshelf, putting away storybooks. She looked up when she heard him and smiled —not brightly, not tightly. Just a warm, simple smile.He felt it in his chest more than anywhere else.“Hey,” she said.“Hey,” he replied, setting his briefcase on the side table.She stood slowly, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Long day?”He nodded. “Yeah. You okay?”She hesitated— just for a fraction o
278. Doubt
The sun had just begun its descent, casting a golden haze over the mansion’s west-facing windows. Ivy stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing the last of the lunch dishes, while the twins played on the rug near the open patio doors. Billy was stacking puzzle pieces, Chloe babbling instructions like a forewoman on a mission. The house was peaceful. Or it should have been. Lila sat at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of green tea she hadn’t touched in ten minutes. She’d been unusually quiet all afternoon, but not in a shy way. More like a cat watching a mousehole, waiting. “Ivy,” she said suddenly, drawing out the name with a smile. Ivy glanced up, towel in hand. “Hmm?” Lila tilted her head. “How well do you trust Van?” The question landed like a feather— soft, weightless— but Ivy felt it settle too deeply. She blinked. “What?” “Just curious,” Lila said lightly. “You two seem so… solid. I admire that. Really.” Ivy smiled faintly, folding the towel and setting it aside. “We’ve been
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