LOGIN(Draxler POV) Nobody spoke while the archive loaded, old hotel systems were never in a hurry— the interface designed for a generation of IT infrastructure that treated speed as optional, the footage files large and uncompressed, the whole thing running on hardware that predated the renovation. Marcus had sourced the archive through a contact at the hotel's corporate parent rather than through Eleanor's formal request, which meant we had access to the same material Eleanor was waiting on, several hours ahead of her. The advantage was narrow and would close. Marcus clicked through the archive without rushing. Five years condensed into one timestamp. We were in the east study, door closed, Marcus's personal laptop rather than anything networked. The screen showed a grid of camera feeds — stills first, the way these archives presented — and Marcus moved through them methodically, the floor plan of the Aurelia Grand reconstructing itself in my memory as he went. Main entrance. Lobby.
(Keyla POV) The decision had already been made in my head. "We are leaving before dinner." Nora looked up from her phone. Leo, who was already wearing his coat because he'd decided wearing it was easier than packing it, looked up too. "Good," Nora said, and started folding the clothes she'd laid out on her bed. I pushed one last toy car deeper into the corner before pulling the zipper — it took two tries because his toy cars were taking up more space than they should — and set it by the door. We'd been at Blackthorn for two days. In forty-eight hours, Eleanor had already requested hotel security footage. Vivienne had managed to feed a story to the press. My name had made headlines, and Leo had nearly become one too. Blackthorn had already taken more than I intended to give it.She didn't stop folding as she spoke. "We still have the legal meeting tomorrow," Nora said. "Priscilla can handle the preliminary review by video." I checked another pocket. "I'm not required to be phys
(Keyla POV) Leo's excited voice cut through my thoughts. "Mom, is this treasure?" Leo held up the cufflink, tissue paper dangled from his other hand. Anything tiny and mysterious immediately became important to him that were small and interesting and obviously adult — with the combined energy of as far as Leo knew, he'd found a shiny object. I was halfway across the room. My head snapped up. I'd been packing the side pocket of my bag — passport, Leo's documents, the folder Priscilla had given me — and The search had already scattered things across the bed looking for his crayons. Leo trusted his own theories more than my answers were in my bag rather than his own, which they weren't, but convincing him otherwise would've taken longer than simply letting him look. His little hands always found the one thing I didn't want him touching. He'd found the velvet pouch in the outside pocket. I'd stopped keeping it in the inside zip months ago, complacency of a life abroad where no one kne
(Keyla POV) Eleanor had planned this before I arrived. Tea had already been arranged. Not casually — Everything had been placed with intention. Quiet enough that every word would stay between us, the small sitting room on the first floor, curtains half-drawn against the grey afternoon, a porcelain service on the low table with two cups already poured, steam still curled from the cups, and a silver spoon laid beside each. She'd already decided how this conversation was supposed to happen that Keyla would sit across from her and they would have the conversation Eleanor had been working toward since yesterday. I didn't even reach for the chair. I took one look at the room. Then I moved to the window instead. Nothing flickered across her face. She carried on anyway and picked up her own cup, crossed her legs, and settled into the chair with the ease of someone for whom the chair had always belonged to her. She waited until I stopped moving. "I thought we might speak privately," she
(Keyla POV) Nora appeared beside me without a word and shoved her phone into my hand. "Don't read the comments." Which meant I read them immediately. Of course I did. The article had gone up sometime in the last two hours — I didn't know the outlet, one of those gossip sites pretending to be society news. It hit me before the article did. The names looked fake enough that no one could be held accountable.. The headline was: *Churchill Funeral Draws Unexpected Guest: Runaway Bride Returns — With a Child.* The article wasn't long. It didn't need to be. Every sentence knew exactly where to cut. Somebody had fed them exactly what they needed. It mentioned my name. Then Leo. — not by name, which was the only mercy, but as "the mystery child accompanying Ms. Tamara," enough detail that anyone from today would've recognized him. I dragged my eyes away from the screen. "How long has it been up?" I asked. Nora didn't stop scrolling. "Forty minutes, maybe." She glanced up at me. "I found
(Keyla POV) The smile was already there before she spoke. Vivienne smiled at me like the wedding night had never happened, either she'd forgotten, or she expected me to. I heard her heels before I saw her. She'd found me in the garden corridor during the half hour between meetings — the passage that ran along the back of the house, open to the garden on one side, with windows onto the frost-killed hedgerows and a runner that had been there long enough to show paths in it. More to avoid thinking than because I expected an immediate reply. I'd been checking my phone, waiting for a response from Priscilla about the afternoon's legal schedule. Vivienne appeared from the far end with the unhurried pace of someone who'd timed the encounter. She didn't call my name right away. "Keyla." Warm. Genuinely warm-sounding, which was the thing about Vivienne — She'd always known exactly how much warmth to put into her voice with enough technical accuracy to delay the moment of recognition. Her e
(Keyla POV) "You understand reputation collapse better than anyone we've hired." If he'd known why I understood it so well, he probably wouldn't have called it a compliment. The client said it at the end of the call, in the tone of someone delivering a compliment they'd arrived at through experie
(Draxler POV) "What would you do," "if I had?" Augustus said. He wasn't denying it. That was the part that mattered. The dining room had been cleared after breakfast but not reset for lunch, the table bare except for the water glasses Eleanor's staff left out of habit. Augustus was at the far e
(Keyla POV) "I found her." The lack of greeting told me more than the words had. He was standing in my office doorway at nine in the morning with his tablet already open. Whatever he'd found, he hadn't wasted time packaging it. I put down what I was reading. I was already on my feet before I rea
(Keyla POV) Leo ran into the room ahead of us and stopped in the middle of it. Nobody would've mistaken it for a large bedroom — small enough that the toy chest and the single bed we'd ordered would take up most of the floor space, the window looking out onto a courtyard rather than a wall, at le







