Chapter 2
The glass door was still open behind us and the city kept humming like it hadn't heard anything. I could feel the cool air off the balcony on my bare arms and the warm air from inside cutting across it at the threshold. Lucy hadn't moved. Her phone was still angled toward me, screen dimming now, and Ethan stood half in the living room, half out, holding that stack of white papers against his chest like he was afraid I'd grab them.
He was breathing hard through his nose. The papers shook a little where his thumbs pressed the edge.
I looked at him and said, "Let me see them."
He didn't answer right away. His eyes flicked to Lucy, then back to me. The locket rested against my collarbone, and I felt its edge catch on the thin chain every time I inhaled.
"It's just the foundation filing," he said. "It's late. We don't need to do this tonight."
Lucy's voice came in too quickly. "Vic, it's not what you think. That group chat is old. Richard just talks like that. He talks like that about everyone."
She took a half step back toward the railing, putting distance between herself and the doorway, and tried to smile. It didn't land. She tucked her phone against her blouse and then held it out again like an offering.
"It's a family chat," she said. "You know how they get. 'Don't let Victoria find out' just meant the engagement party. They wanted it to be a surprise."
I didn't look at her. I kept my eyes on Ethan's hands.
"You said 'where is it' before," I said to him. "Where is what?"
He swallowed. "Victoria."
I held out my hand. Palm up. I didn't raise my voice.
"Ethan. Show me."
For a second I thought he would turn and walk inside with them. His shoulders tightened and he glanced back into the apartment, toward the entry where the light was warmer, the marble catching the glow from the kitchen. Then he loosened his grip just enough to let the top sheet slide forward an inch.
It was a cover sheet, heavy stock, with a notary block at the bottom. And there, two lines up from the seal, was my name. Victoria Hale. In blue ink.
Or not my ink. The loop on the V was wrong. I always started my V with a sharp point and dragged the tail low. This one was rounded, careful, like someone had traced it slowly. The t was too tall. I felt a small, cold drop in my stomach even though my hand stayed steady.
"That's not mine," I said quietly.
Ethan pulled the page back a fraction. "It's a copy for the file."
"It's my signature."
"It's an authorization," he said. "For the gallery disbursement. You signed it last month when Richard's assistant came by. Remember? In the kitchen?"
I remembered the assistant. A man in a gray suit with a leather folder who'd come while I was still in my robe, who'd said it was just a routing form so the foundation could move money to the vendor before the wedding. I remembered signing one sheet, not a stack.
"This isn't that day's pen," I said. "And I didn't sign three pages."
Lucy laughed a little, a short breath. "You guys, come on. You're scaring me. It's paperwork. My family does this all the time, they have you sign things. It's not a big deal."
She was edging toward the living room now, her hand on the glass railing as she moved, trying to pull our attention inward, away from the balcony. The city lights striped across her blouse.
I stepped forward and took the edge of the top sheet between my thumb and forefinger. Ethan didn't let go. We stood there for a beat holding the same page, the paper stretching slightly.
"Just this one," I said. "You can keep the folder."
His jaw worked. He looked at Lucy, then at my face. Something in his expression gave way, not into honesty but into calculation, like he was deciding which version of trouble was smaller. He let his fingers slip.
The page came free. It was warm from his hands.
I folded it once and held it against my dress. Ethan clutched the rest of the folder tighter to his ribs and took a step back over the threshold onto the marble. The air shifted fully warm around us.
May you like
"We should go inside," Lucy said quickly, relief audible now that we were moving. "It's freezing out here."
I didn't answer. I turned with the page in my hand and walked past Ethan into the apartment, the glass door sliding shut behind us on its track with a soft thud. The city was still there beyond the glass, but muffled now. Lucy followed, already talking again about the chat, about how nothing she did was personal, and Ethan stood in the entry holding what was left of the stack, watching me hold the one sheet he hadn't wanted me to see.
