Elena sat at the kitchen island, her fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee she hadn't touched. The manor was quiet on late Monday morning, the way it always was after a long night. Sunlight slanted through the windows, catching dust motes floating above the counter, and somewhere a clock ticked, the only rhythm in the room.

Liam had insisted she take a few days off after the charity gala. Normally she would've welcomed the break. Instead, it had left her with nothing to distract her from everything Alexander had said.

Marta sat across from her, a newspaper spread open on the marble counter, reading glasses perched low on her nose. She turned the page with the slow deliberation of someone with all the time in the world.

"You look exhausted," Marta said without looking up.

Elena blinked. "I'm fine."

"You said that fifteen minutes ago too." Marta lifted her eyes over the rim of her glasses. "Yet you still haven't touched that coffee."

She picked up the mug, felt the warmth through the ceramic, and took a sip. It had gone bitter. She set it down again.

"The gala kept me up late."

"Mmhmm." Marta turned another page. "And the phone call on the balcony kept you up later."

Elena's chest went tight. "You saw that?"

“It’s hard not to see things around here, dear. There aren’t many places to go without leaving the manor.” Marta's voice was dry, warm. "You came in looking like someone told you the sky was falling. And the Master has been absent since your return yesterday afternoon."

Elena pressed her lips together. She didn't know how to answer that. Didn't know how to explain that she’d walked into a trap set before she ever set foot in this house. That her brother's debt was manufactured. That Liam Thorn had planned every step.

That she still didn't know what to do about it.

“You can tell me or not tell me,” Marta said, folding a section of the paper. “But you can’t sit in my kitchen looking like a ghost and expect me not to notice.”

Elena almost smiled. “It’s complicated.”

“It usually is.” Marta turned another page. “Complicated just means there’s more to understand.”

Elena stared at the coffee. Alexander’s words still rang in her ears. He planned it. The whole thing. Your brother’s debt. Your company. You.

“What if the information makes everything worse?” she asked quietly.

Marta looked up, her eyes steady. “Then you’ll know what you’re dealing with. That’s better than letting someone else decide it for you.”

The silence stretched. Elena traced the rim of the mug with her thumb, watching the light catch the ceramic glaze. Somewhere in the house, a floorboard creaked.

"You want my advice?" Marta asked.

"Always."

"You don't have to decide what to do today. Just don't make the mistake of deciding you have to do it by yourself." She turned another page of the newspaper, then stopped. Her eyes went wide. "Oh my."

Elena looked up. "What?"

Marta's face had gone from calm to delighted in the space of a breath. She lifted the newspaper, spun it around, and laid it flat on the counter between them.

And there they were.

A photograph, crisp and clear, taken at the gala. Elena in her deep blue gown, her hair swept up, a polite smile on her lips. Liam beside her, his hand resting at the small of her back, guiding her forward. They looked intimate. They looked like a couple. His blue suit looked pristine, his expression unreadable, his jaw sharp in the flash of the camera.

The headline read: Thorn Heir Spotted with Mystery Woman at Charity Gala.

Elena's stomach dropped.

“You’re in the paper!” Marta’s voice jumped an octave, and Elena looked up to find her holding the folded newspaper in both hands. “Elena, you’re in the society pages.”

“That’s—that’s nothing. It’s just a photo.”

“Just a photo?” Marta smiled, tracing the edge of the page with one finger. “Look at you. You look stunning.” Her eyes shifted to Liam beside her. “And Mr. Thorn... my word. I’ve never seen him photographed looking quite so... at ease.”

Elena leaned closer, studying the photograph as though there might be something she had missed. “It was just good timing. That’s what photographers are good at.”

“Perhaps.” Marta tilted the paper toward her. “Though he does seem rather focused on making sure you’re right beside him.”

Elena’s gaze settled on the photograph again. Liam’s hand rested lightly against the small of her back, his attention turned toward her even as the camera caught them from across the room.

“He was just guiding me through the crowd.”

“I’m sure he was.” Marta’s smile widened, just enough to make the words teasing. “It’s a rather thoughtful photograph, that’s all.”

Heat crept up Elena’s neck. “Marta.”

“I’m not saying anything.” She lifted one hand in innocent surrender, though the amusement in her eyes gave her away. “I’ve worked in this house a long time. Mr. Thorn isn’t usually one for photographs, and he certainly isn’t one for unnecessary gestures.”

“It was a work event,” Elena insisted, but her phone rang before she could say anything more. She glanced at the screen, and the name staring back at her made her breath catch.

Momma.

She stared at it for a beat, then another, the phone buzzing against the marble counter. A small, knowing smile touched Marta’s lips. “You going to get that?” she asked.

Elena swallowed and swiped to answer. “Hi, Mom.”

“Elena!” Her mother’s voice was bright with excitement, almost breathless. “Darling, you’re in the newspaper! I was reading my morning paper, and there you were on page three. In that beautiful dress—and standing beside a very handsome man! Who is he?”

Elena closed her eyes. "Mom—"

"Is that your boss? Oh, honey, he's handsome. I can see why the photographer picked that picture."

"Mom, it's not—"

“Is he single? He looks single. Or is he taken? Not that it would matter. A man like that, I’m sure we could find out—”

"Mom!" Elena pressed her fingers to her temple. "Mom, it was a charity gala for work."

"Well, whether he's your boss or not, you two certainly photograph well together."

Elena sighed. "It was just a picture."

"A very nice picture." Her mother's voice carried a smile. "You looked... comfortable. I haven't seen you smile like that in a long time."

Elena felt her face warm. Across the counter, Marta had picked up the paper again, pretending to read while listening to every word.

“It was just business, Mom. I bid on some art for him, he paid me for it, and that’s really all there is to it.”

"If you say so, sweetheart."

Elena sighed. "You're impossible."

"Occupational hazard of being a mother." She chuckled. "Seeing you smiling in the paper made my morning."

Elena was ready to place her forehead to the table.

“He's very handsome," her mother continued. "And you looked beautiful. The whole neighborhood is going to see this. Mrs. Patterson from across the street has already called me."

"Of course she has."

"She wants to know if you're engaged."

"What?!"

"I told her you probably weren't. But the photo is very romantic. You have to admit."

Elena rubbed her forehead. "There was nothing romantic about it. It was work. He's my employer. That's all."

"If you say so, darling." Her mother's voice was too light. "But I saved the clipping. I'm putting it on the fridge."

"Mom!"

"Right next to your college graduation photo. It'll look lovely."

Elena opened her mouth, closed it. There was no winning this argument. There never was.

"It was nice to see you in something other than work clothes," her mother added. "You looked happy."

She remembered the gala. The quiet conversations. The confidence with which he'd moved through the room. The ease she'd felt standing beside him.

Had any of it been real?

She'd felt something then. She didn't know what to call it.

"I have to go, Mom."

"Alright, alright. But call me this week. And bring that handsome boss of yours to dinner sometime."

"Goodbye, Mom."

"I love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too."

She hung up and set the phone down, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. For a moment, she simply stared at the screen before looking up to find Marta watching her, the newspaper still lying open on the table between them.

“Your mother thinks you’re dating Mr. Thorn?”

Elena gave a small, helpless shrug. “She thinks everyone is dating someone. It’s her hobby.”

Marta smiled, the amusement lingering in her eyes. “And what do you think?”

Elena looked down at her coffee. “I think it’s gone cold.”

Marta’s smile deepened, but she let the answer stand. “I’ll put a fresh pot on.”

Elena nodded, but her attention had already drifted back to the photograph on the table. She looked at Liam’s hand resting lightly against her back, and this time she didn’t immediately look away.

Liam stood beside her wearing the same composed expression he'd worn through every negotiation she'd ever seen, yet the image captured something she'd never questioned before. Something she'd accepted without thinking.

She’d spent weeks learning the man she believed Liam to be. On Friday night, Alexander had suggested that the man she thought she knew might never have existed at all.

Elena looked at her own face frozen in ink. She looked happy, and she had been. She’d been happy because she believed she understood the game she was playing, understood the boundaries, and knew what she was getting into. Now, she wasn’t sure she understood any of it.

Alexander had planted the question, but she wasn’t about to take his word for it. She wasn’t going to take Liam’s either, not without knowing what was true and what wasn’t. Right now, she didn’t know who she could trust.

If the truth existed, she would uncover it herself. She couldn’t keep replaying Alexander’s words in circles, turning them over until every possibility sounded plausible. Sooner or later, she needed answers, and she intended to find them herself.

"Thank you for the coffee, Marta." Elena pushed back from the counter, her chair scraping softly against the tile. "I think I need to stretch my legs."

Marta's eyes flicked up from the newspaper, sharp despite her relaxed posture. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Thank you, Marta."

Elena left the kitchen with a final smile to Marta. The hallway stretched ahead, quiet and carpeted, the morning light falling in pale rectangles across the floor. She walked slowly, her steps deliberate, listening for the sound of conversation, a closing door, or the faint cadence of Liam’s voice, but all she heard was the distant hum of a refrigerator and the occasional creak of old wood settling.

She passed the billiard room first and cracked the door open. It was empty, the green felt gleaming beneath the soft lights, a single cue resting on the table as though someone had stepped away only moments ago. She closed the door and continued upstairs, her hand trailing lightly along the banister.

The library was next. She pushed the door open and stood in the threshold, scanning the shelves, the reading chairs, and the cold fireplace. A reading lamp remained on beside an empty armchair, but the room itself sat undisturbed. She stepped back into the hallway and turned toward the study, its heavy oak door closed.

Elena approached carefully, her heels silent against the runner. She stopped a few feet from the door and tilted her head, listening for movement, a voice, anything that might tell her whether Liam was inside.

“Can I help you, Miss Rossi?”

Elena spun. Her hand flew to her chest. Presley stood three feet behind her, one step down on the stairway, straight-backed and expressionless, a small stack of books resting in his hands.

"Presley." She forced her voice to stay steady. "I didn't hear you."

"My apologies. I didn't mean to startle you." His tone was polite, unruffled. His eyes didn't flicker. "Is there something you require?"

She let her hand drop from her chest, trying to slow her heart. "I was looking for Mr. Thorn."

"I see." Presley inclined his head slightly. "I haven't seen the master yet today, Miss Rossi. I believe he is currently away."

"Right." She glanced at the study door. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"I couldn't say." Presley waited a beat. "Would you like me to contact him for you, Miss Rossi?"

Elena shook her head quickly. “No. No, that’s all right. It’s not that important.”

Presley nodded. "Very good. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No." She offered a smile she didn't feel. "Thank you, Presley."

“Of course, Miss Rossi.” He gave a small bow and turned toward the library, walking away with the same unhurried, silent precision.

Elena watched him disappear into the library before turning back to the study door. Her fingers itched to try the handle, but she stopped herself. Not yet. Not with Presley still within earshot.

She turned and walked back toward the grand hall, her mind already turning over what she knew and what she didn't. Elena couldn't be certain that Liam was actually gone, but if he was, this might be her chance.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and paused, looking down the long hallway toward the east wing, where Liam’s private suite stood behind a door she’d never been invited through. If Liam wasn't in the house, perhaps it was time she found out what was behind it.