Sam had claimed the east corner of the Pemberton Estate at sixteen and never given it back. Two rooms. Tall windows facing the back gardens. Early spring pressing up through the soil—wet green, bare branches, bulbs that didn’t care the ground was still cold.

She handed Arianne a glass of wine. Arianne took it. Didn’t drink.

"Relax." Sam settled into her chair, tucking one leg under herself. Silk—pale gold, loose at the shoulders. No shoes. "It’s a party. Small one. Barely qualifies." She waved a hand. "I know you don’t like fuss. This isn’t fuss. This is three women drinking wine on a Tuesday because one of them had a birthday last week and nobody made enough of it."

Audrey was already on the small velvet sofa, her glass held in both hands like she wasn’t sure what to do with it. Coat off, shoes still on. She looked slightly out of place—not uncomfortable, but aware. The way a person is aware when they’ve been invited into a room they haven’t earned yet.

Arianne recognized it. She’d worn that posture for years.

"Thank you," she said. "For not making it fuss."

"That’s what I do. Defuse tension. Provide wine." Sam raised her glass. "To Arianne. Who survived another year and finally let someone buy her a star necklace."

Arianne’s hand went to her throat. The star was warm against her skin.

"Franz told you."

"Franz tells me nothing. Lily told me. She’s very proud. She wanted me to know she helped pick the gifts." Sam’s grin flickered. "She also wanted me to know there was chocolate involved. She’s very focused on the chocolate."

Arianne drank. The wine was good—something Sam had probably taken from Gilbert’s cellar without asking. The warmth of it spread down her chest.

Sam set her glass aside and reached beside her chair. Produced a paper bag—heavy weight, nice paper, the kind from a boutique that didn’t put prices on anything.

"Speaking of Franz." She held it out. "I heard you two are trying."

Arianne didn’t ask how she knew. Sam knew everything. It was exhausting and useful in equal measure.

"Here. These might help."

Arianne opened the bag.

Inside, folded in tissue: five sets of lingerie. She lifted the first one—purple lace, a nightgown that would leave her entire back bare. Deep V in front. The kind of garment designed to be removed slowly or not at all. The thong was barely there. A slip of purple and black.

She set it aside. Lifted the second.

White. Similar cut—bare back, deep V. But this one had an opening at the crotch. Not coverage. Access.

Arianne held it up. Examined it without embarrassment. "Sam."

"What. You’re married. You’re trying. These are tools."

Audrey made a small sound. Not a word. A sound.

Arianne looked over. Audrey’s face was red—not pink, not flushed. Red. The kind of red that started at the collarbone and didn’t stop. She was staring at the white set like it might stand up and introduce itself.

Arianne folded it carefully. Placed it back in the bag.

"Audrey." Sam leaned forward. "Why is your face that color?"

"I don’t know what you mean."

"Your face. It’s red. Like someone set it on fire."

"It’s warm in here."

"It’s early spring. The heat isn’t on." Sam’s grin widened. "Don’t worry. Once you and Gil get married, I’ll get you sets too."

Audrey’s blush deepened to something that didn’t have a name. She took a long drink of wine. A very long drink.

"We’re not—" she started.

"Not yet. I know." Sam waved a hand. "But he was in your apartment at midnight and he’s looking at you like you hung the moon, so I’m planning ahead. I’m a planner."

Audrey opened her mouth. Closed it. Took another drink.

Sam’s phone buzzed on the arm of her chair. She glanced at it. Her expression shifted—not worried, but attentive. The kind of shift that happened before she stood up and left a room.

"I have to take this. Two minutes."

She was gone. Bare feet silent on the hallway carpet. The door clicked shut.

The room settled. The wine sat in Arianne’s glass. The paper bag sat at her feet. Outside, wind moved through the bare branches. A scrape against the window glass. Then still.

Audrey spoke.

"Can I ask you something?"

Arianne turned. Audrey had set her glass down. Her hands were empty now. Her face was still faintly pink, but her eyes weren’t.

"Yes."

"Gil told me about the investigation. Some of it. Not everything." She paused. "He told me about Layla. What she was really doing. That she wasn’t just—"

"Collateral."

"Yes."

Arianne waited.

"I’m not asking for details. I know you can’t give them." Audrey’s voice was careful. Precise. The voice of someone who knew how to ask questions without setting off alarms. "But I need to understand something. Franz is part of this. He’s in the room. At the table. And you’re—" She stopped. Chose again. "You seem calm. About him being involved. About all of it. How are you calm?"

Arianne looked at the windows. The wet green. The bulbs pushing up through cold soil.

"I’m not."

Audrey waited.

"I’m not calm." The words came out slower than she meant. "I have—uncertainty. That’s the word. Uncertainty. About what we’re walking into. About whether I should have let him walk into it with me."

"But you did."

"He chose. I chose to let him. That’s different than letting something happen to him." She paused. Her thumb found the stem of the wine glass. "He knows what he’s risking. I know what I’m risking. We decided. Together. I’m not going to—"

She stopped. The words weren’t there yet. She had to find them.

"I’m not going to take the choice away from him. Just because I’m afraid of what it might cost." She looked at Audrey. "If I did that, I’d be doing what they did. Whoever’s behind this. They took my choices. For years. I won’t do that to him."

Audrey nodded slowly. "Gil said something similar. About Layla. That she chose to stand next to Alex. That she knew the risks."

"Yes."

"And you don’t live in fear of what that choice might cost?"

Arianne picked up her wine. Drank. The warmth hit her chest.

"If I lived in fear," she said, "whoever’s behind this would own something they didn’t earn. My fear. My choices. They’d have a hand over my life without ever touching me." She set the glass down. Harder than she meant. "I won’t give them that. Not anymore."

The words came out flat. Not cold. Something harder.

"I spent years in exile. Not because I chose it. Because I was running. Because I thought invisible meant safe." Her jaw tightened. A muscle flickered. "I wasn’t safe. I was just alone. And while I was alone, Alex and Layla died. The Conway estate bled for a decade. Dominic was turned into a weapon. None of it stopped because I was hiding. It just happened without me there to see it."

The branch scraped the window again. This time Arianne didn’t flinch.

"So no. I don’t live in fear. I live in the room. I look at what’s in front of me. And I let the people I love choose whether to stand beside me." She met Audrey’s eyes. "Franz chose. He keeps choosing. I’m not taking that from him."

The wind moved through the garden. Audrey exhaled. A long breath. The kind you take when something settles.

"I want to help," she said. "I know I’m not—in the room. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But I’m a journalist. I know how to find things. Trace things. Ask questions that don’t look like questions." Her hands were still. "If you need that. If any of you need that. I’m here."

Arianne didn’t answer right away.

She thought about Gilbert’s face at Nate’s bar. His hand slamming the table. The guilt he’d carried for years—guilt over not protecting her, guilt over Alex, guilt that had calcified into something he carried alone because he didn’t know how to set it down.

She thought about Audrey telling him to stop choosing for her.

"You and Gilbert," Arianne said. "You need to settle your own affairs first."

Audrey opened her mouth.

"I’m not saying no. I’m saying not yet." Arianne’s voice stayed steady. "Gilbert has spent years carrying guilt that doesn’t belong to him. Over me. Over Alex. If I pull you into this before the two of you have figured out what you are to each other—and something happens—" She stopped. Something flickered behind her eyes. "I won’t do that to him. Not when it can be avoided."

Audrey was quiet. Her hands hadn’t moved.

"He told you about Layla," Arianne said. "That means he’s already letting you in. Let that be enough for now. Let him catch up to what he’s already given you."

Audrey looked down at her hands. Then back up. "You’re protecting him."

"I’m refusing to use you before you’re ready to be used." Arianne’s voice was flat. "There’s a difference."

Audrey almost smiled. Almost. "Is there?"

"Ask me again. Later. When—"

The door opened. Sam swept back in, phone in hand, sleeves fluttering.

"Sorry. Crisis averted. Someone thought they could book the Pemberton jet without asking. They were wrong." She dropped into her chair. "What did I miss?"

Audrey picked up her wine. "Arianne was explaining the difference between protection and refusing to use someone."

Sam looked between them. "That sounds very serious." Her eyes dropped to the bag. "Did you open the rest? There’s a red one. Very ambitious."

Arianne reached down. Pulled out the red set. Held it up.

The thong was red. The cups were—ambitious, as Sam had said. Audrey’s blush came back so fast Arianne could almost feel the heat from across the room.

Sam grinned.

"Tools," she said.

Arianne folded the red set, placed it back in the bag, and didn’t bother hiding the smile that pulled at the corner of her mouth. Small, but there. Sam saw it. Audrey saw it. Neither commented.

The wind moved through the garden. The wine was warm in her chest.

She had spent years alone. Years hiding. Years believing that letting people close meant giving them weapons. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Now she was sitting in a room with a woman who’d bought her lingerie and another woman who blushed at the word tools, and somewhere across the estate Franz was probably reading a script and pretending he wasn’t waiting for her to come back.

She’d come back.

That was the thing she was still learning how to do. Come back. Stay in the room. Let people choose her and choose them back.

The paper bag rustled at her feet.

"I’m keeping the purple one," she said.

"Naturally," Sam said. "Start there. Build up to the red."

Audrey took a very long drink of wine.

Arianne let the smile stay.