LOGINI looked around the room still having a hard time believing what I was seeing.
Yellow curtains. Beige carpet. The hairline crack running diagonally across the ceiling above the wardrobe. My room, the one I had slept in before I was married, before any of it happened. I sat on the edge of the bed with my hands pressed flat against the duvet and looked at everything slowly, letting the feel of the cotton against my kin determine if this was reality. I could hardly believe that I had truly been reborn. The betrayal by Dorothy and Alexander was absolutely no dream. I had felt every second of it with every fiber of my body. The hands around my throat. The open window. The fall. My life leaving me with each second I struggled to draw breath. Alexander's face above mine. All of it had been real. And now I was sitting here in morning light I had not seen in three years, on a bed that smelled of fabric softener, in a room that should not have existed for me anymore. My digital clock sat on the nightstand. The time. The date. Three years back, exactly. I'm here. I'm really here. As I descended the stairs to the living room, I was met by a familiar scene. My parents and Dorothy. All three of them laughing happily. My mother's bright high pitched chatter filled every corner of the room. My father laughed as well, his shoulders at ease as he looked at Dorothy, affection overflowing from both their gazes. My sister sat at the centre of it all, her long wavy black hair cascading over her chest, her face open and glowing. Deep inside my chest an uncontrollable urge to cry pushed itself upward. Right up until the moment of my death I had never once received such unconditional love from them. Not once in ten years had they looked at me the way they were looking at her right now. I came down the remaining stairs and walked toward them, step by step, closing the distance between myself and the very person who had murdered me and my unborn child not an hour ago in another life. Dorothy turned the moment she heard my footsteps. Her face broke into a wide warm smile and she held a small wrapped bottle out toward me with a playful wink, her long hair sweeping forward as she leaned in. "A gift for you, sis." A beautifully wrapped bottle of lily perfume. White lilies on the label, pale tissue paper folded neatly around the glass, a small ribbon tied carefully around the neck of it. It would have been lovely if I were not allergic to lilies. "I'm allergic to lilies." I made no move to take it from her hand. My mother hurried immediately to Dorothy's defense, turning to me with that familiar look of quiet reproach. "Your sister didn't mean any harm. She had no idea you were allergic to lilies." "No, she knew perfectly well." I kept my eyes on Dorothy. "She stuffed lilies into my schoolbag before. She has always known." My father looked at me with the particular disappointment he reserved for moments when I failed to perform the gratitude he expected of me. "How could you possibly think your sister would intentionally try to hurt you? We are a family. Dorothy has never had a malicious bone in her body." Every single time. Every conflict, every deliberate cruelty, every carefully constructed wound, and they always found a way to sand it down to an accident, an oversight, something I had misread or blown out of proportion. I had had enough of that. "I truly didn't know you were allergic!" Dorothy's eyes had already filled with tears, right on schedule. She pressed her fingers to the corner of her mouth, her bottom lip trembling with practiced precision. The crocodile had already begun to shed her tears. "How could you think such things of me?" She shook her head, "I'm your sister, and I love you!" "Don't call me sister." I took a slow breath in and let it out. "We have never been sisters. And you have never once treated me like one!" "Maeve!" My father practically barked my name at me. "I am merely stating the facts." I watched a small smug flicker move across the very corner of Dorothy's mouth before she rearranged her face back into hurt. I saw my mother's expression crumple. I saw my father turn his gaze toward me, his eyes heavy with disappointment. "We loathe one another and we will never be reconciled." I looked at all three of them and did not drop my gaze. "I'm done pretending otherwise." I did not flinch. I did not take back a single word. A tear slid down my cheek as I looked away, gritting my teeth so hard my gums burned with protest. Ring, ring, ring. The familiar ringtone reached my ears. Only then did I realize it was my own phone ringing. I had actually forgotten that I was currently working at Alexander's company. HR was calling to inquire why I had been absent without notice. "I'm on my way right now," I told the caller and then hung up, not bothering to go upstairs to change as I began to head out. "Where do you think you're going?" My father's voice rose behind me, hard and sharp. "How did I end up with such a rude daughter?" "Maeve, you can't just leave like that." I wiped my face with the back of my hand and walked straight out of the house. I would never cry for them again. As I stepped into Alexander's company, memories of the past came flooding back before I was ready for them. I used to take such pride in the fact that Alexander had allowed me to stay by his side as his assistant. I had told myself it meant he cared about me. That it was his quiet way of choosing me, keeping me close on purpose, wanting me near. The giant screen in the lobby was displaying a poster for the Hagreeves family company's most prized piece, the diamond ring called the Eternal Heart. I stopped in front of it for a moment and looked at it. He had used that very ring to propose to me. He had stood before the priest and vowed that he would love only me for the rest of his life. It had all been a lie… I took a slow breath of my own and walked to the elevator. Alexander's office was on the top floor. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Black hair, blue eyes, a crisp grey three-piece suit. I held my breath, watching his broad shoulders flex ever slightly as his fingers danced over the keyboard and flipped pages simultaneously, every movement of his captivated me, scared me. I bit down on my bottom lip with more force than neccesary, convincing myself that the sight of him didn't have the same effect as it used to. He was bent over his desk, focused entirely on whatever was in front of him, so absorbed in his work that he hadn't heard the door open. He was so focused and serious, just as he had been all those years ago when I was utterly captivated by him, when the sight of him like this had made my heart turn over in my chest. Now a bitter ache moved through me and settled heavily behind my ribs. "Maeve, you're here!" Liam greeted me from the sofa, straightening up with a grin. Romy looked up from where he stood at the window and raised a hand in acknowledgment. Since highschool school they had been Alexander's most loyal friends. They had also been front row witnesses to every humiliating moment of my devotion to him, watching me pursue Alexander with an obsession that had no dignity left in it. In their eyes I had always been exactly one thing: Alexander's faithful dog. "You're an hour late," Alexander said, without looking up from his desk. "Go and prepare for my afternoon meeting. Immediately." His voice was deep, rich and always had this authoritative lilt that had once had me feeling like I was being hypnotized, like I couldn't say no to him. I felt differently when I heard that voice now. All I pictured was his face above me, the future father of my sister's child who watched the life leave my eyes. When he received no response he looked up at me with a puzzled and impatient expression, his brow pulling together. Sharp blue eyes held mine with a bored intensity that made me just want to cave in out of habit. "Maeve? What are you waiting for?" "No." I held his gaze without flinching. "I'm afraid I can't do that for you anymore." Alexander’s expression grew increasingly puzzled and then impatient, the way he always did when his most reliable subordinate failed to simply obey. "I want to resign.”MAEVE The hospital antiseptic wrapped around me the moment I walked through the sliding doors and I followed the signs to the cardiac ward with my bag sliding off my shoulder and my coat still half buttoned from leaving Jane's apartment faster than I had planned.I almost missed him.Alexander was near the reception desk with his back half turned, one hand flat on the counter, his head down. Suit jacket slightly rumpled, tie gone. He looked up when he heard my footsteps and the moment his eyes found mine my chest did the thing I had been hoping it wouldn't."You're here." Like he hadn't fully believed I would come. His blue eyes held mine and I felt the pull of them immediately and against my will and I looked at his face properly for the first time in a while and noticed every single thing I didn't want to notice. The exhaustion sitting around his eyes. His jaw set just slightly too hard. His lips pressed into that thin line of his. I hated how unfairly his face still did what it di
MAEVE The call with the competition coordinator lasted forty five minutes and by the end of it my hand was cramping from writing notes and Jane was sitting across from me at the kitchen table mouthing questions at me that I kept waving away.Two boutique houses wanted to commission work. One was based in the city, small and selective and the kind of place whose pieces ended up on the right people without the label needing to advertise itself. The other was in Paris.Paris.I wrote it down on my notepad and looked at it and felt something shift in my chest that I wasn't ready to fully examine yet.The coordinator, a woman named Clara who spoke at the efficient pace of someone with seventeen things to do after this call, told me that both houses had reached out within twenty four hours of the announcement and that this was, in her experience, unusual. "People move fast when they find something real," she said. "I'd recommend moving faster."We agreed on a timeline for introductory call
ALEXANDER Liam put the article on my desk at eleven in the morning without saying anything.He just walked in, set it down in front of me, and stood there with his hands in his pockets waiting for me to look at it.I looked at it.The headline was clean and direct. National Excellence in Jewelry Design Competition Winner Announced. Beneath it, a photograph of the phoenix brooch in its display case, the rose gold catching the gallery lighting in a way that made the graduated garnets look like they were actually on fire. And beneath that, a name.Maeve Quinlan.I read the article. Read it the whole way through, which took longer than it should have because I kept stopping and going back to the beginning of paragraphs. The piece had been described as technically masterful, conceptually striking, the unanimous choice of the judging panel. There was a quote from one of the judges about the articulated settings and another one about the specificity of the emotional vision behind the design
MAEVE Patricia called me into her office the morning after the gallery event and looked at me across her desk with an expression I couldn't immediately read. "Sit down," she said. I sat. She laced her fingers together on the desk and looked at me for a moment and I held my breath. Was she about to fire me? "I watched the coverage from last night," she said. "The gallery event. Your piece." She paused. "Maeve, I've been in this city for thirty years. I know talent when I see it and I know when someone is wasting it." She held my gaze. "You're wasting it managing my restaurant." I opened my mouth. "I'm not firing you," she said quickly, one hand coming up. "Lord knows I need you here and Marcus isn't back for another few weeks. But I want to say something to you that I mean sincerely." She leaned forward. "Whatever happened that made you end up answering my job listing instead of building your own label, you need to fix it. Because what I saw in that display case last night does
MAEVE The email came on a Tuesday morning while I was in Patricia's office going through the lunch reservation list and trying to figure out how we were going to seat a party of twelve that had booked for one fifteen when we already had three tables of eight confirmed for the same slot.My phone buzzed on the desk beside me and I glanced at it out of habit and then looked back at the reservation system and then looked back at my phone.Competition organizers. In person interview requested. Questions regarding the Phoenix brooch submission ahead of the final announcement.I read it once. Read it again. Set my phone face down and stared at the reservation screen for a moment without seeing any of it.They wanted to interview me.I picked the phone back up and read it a third time just to make sure I hadn't invented it.I hadn't invented it.I typed back a confirmation with fingers that felt slightly disconnected from my hands, set the phone down, and sat there in Patricia's office with
MAEVE The Gilded Fork was a five stare hotel and also my last resort. It had floor to ceiling windows, warm amber lighting visible even from the sidewalk, the kind of entrance that had a canopy and a doorman and flower arrangements that got changed every two days because the owner believed wilting flowers communicated a wilting standard. I had looked it up the night before the interview and spent a considerable amount of time convincing myself I was qualified enough to walk through that door.I was. I knew I was. I just needed my nerves to catch up with that information.The woman who met me in the lobby was not what I had expected.Mid fifties, natural silver locs pinned back elegantly, reading glasses pushed up on her forehead like she had forgotten they were there, a deep burgundy wrap dress and the specific energy of someone who had built something from the ground up and knew exactly what it was worth. She looked at me when I walked in and her whole face changed."Maeve Quinlan.
ALEXANDER Dorothy was shit at her job.One week since Maeve walked out and I had spent most of it quietly doing Dorothy's work before anyone else noticed it wasn't being done. Files that came back organised in a way that made no logical sense. Meeting reminders sent to the wrong people. Calls forg
MAEVE I didn't really plan to sleep for eleven hours.I pulled Jane's guest room duvet up to my chin fully expecting to lie there running everything through my head the way I had been doing for weeks. Instead I was just gone. Out completely before I'd finished the thought.When I woke up I felt li
My mother's expression changed.The warmth didn't leave all at once, it curdled, slowly, the smile holding its shape while everything behind it shifted into something harder and colder and considerably more honest."Why are you so stubborn?" Her voice came out tight. "We took you in. We raised you.
MAEVE Alexander, for the first time that I could remember, had his displeasure and anger written all over his face, and he didn't bother to hide it. He looked at me like I was a disappointment, yet...those blue eyes remained trained on mine like he couldn't look away. The tingles in my spine that







