The rope went taut. Elliot’s shoes scraped the floor, then lifted, trembling, twitching.
Franz stood still, one hand on the blood-slick cord, breathing hard. Sweat mixed with blood dripped from his body. His fingers throbbed, but he barely noticed. The adrenaline was beginning to fade.
[ Ah? I think he was trying to say something.]
Franz exhaled through gritted teeth, chest rising and falling.
"Fuck you" he muttered. "I’m too tired for any of that shit now."
He turned away. His boots echoed against the marble, stepping over shell casings and bodies.
He moved down the grand staircase slowly, every movement dragging. His arms ached. His side throbbed from the wound beneath his torn hoodie. The hallway reeked of smoke, blood, and silence.
He reached one of the dead guards. Knelt. Took a phone. Then the crushed pack of cigarettes from the man’s jacket.
The taste hit his tongue like fire and regret.
He opened the messaging app. Typed:
Come to the Ardent mansion.
Then he sat on the stairs, dragging smoke into his lungs like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
At Franz’s Apartment ...
I stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the street below. The weight of everything pressed behind my ribs. But there was no time for grief, no space for regret. Celeste sat on the couch behind me, curled in a blanket, eyes puffy but alert.
She hadn’t asked anything yet.
Because I was still figuring out how to say it.
So I just... started.
I told her everything.
Elliot had been planning something for a long time.
He was going to destroy everything her father built. Every deal, every loyalty, every ounce of blood and sweat my husband had poured into his name. Elliot was planning to tarnish it all.
He wanted to erase his name and remake it in his own image. And he wanted me as a symbol. A puppet in a dress. A queen on a leash.
He said it was the only way to "fix the past."
And if I’d said yes... it would’ve been a betrayal. Of your father. Of myself.
So yesterday I decided I would jump of the bridge.
The thought that her mother had tried to end her own life shattered Celeste’s heart into a million pieces, she understood the reason but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.
She doesn’t speak. Not right away.
She clutches the blanket tighter. Her lips part, but nothing comes out.
"You should have talked to me " Victoria flinches.
Celeste doesn’t cry. Not yet. But her hands shake under the blanket. And her next words barely rise above a breath
"Don’t ever do that again."
With a deep breath, I continued.
How the water swallowed me whole. How I would’ve drowned, if he hadn’t pulled me out.
After he found out I was her mother he offered me help.
He said if you thought your problems would end with you how about I help you with that.
Then came the quiet question. "But... why is Franz helping us?"
Victoria blinked. Then smiled a little.
"He said he was your friend"
Celeste didn’t say it out loud, but the thought coiled in her chest. She remembered the first time they met—how little he spoke. How aloof he seemed. She hadn’t even given him her number during that first exchange with the others. He’d said so little.
He would go that far just to help her mom
"Well, no matter his reasons... he helped us. And I’m grateful." Victoria said changing the topic
I stood, brushing down her blouse. "Come on. He told me not to leave the house today. So let’s do something else instead. Something peaceful. Just for one day."
I clapped my hands. "Now, introduce me to your friends."
Victoria stood in front of the group, inspecting them one by one. She greeted Lena, Emphera and Iris with a warm hug .
"You must be Zane," she said, narrowing her eyes.
Zane rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh... yes, ma’am."
She stepped forward and squinted. Close. Too close. Her face was just inches from his.
Zane’s face turned bright red.
Celeste covered her face in embarrassment. "Mom—what are you doing?!"
Victoria leaned back. "Nothing. Just... you’ve grown quite a bit, haven’t you?"
Zane coughed awkwardly. "I—um—thank you?"
Then an image passed through her mind.
Messy black hair fell across his forehead, still damp from a shower, a cigarette tucked behind one ear and another between his lips, unlit.
A faint blush covered her face.
She shook the image from her head.
"You better start working harder, idiot. You’ve got competition now."
Zane blinked. "Competition?"
She looked away, cheeks barely pink. "Don’t make me spell it out."
Later, while everyone was starting to relax and explore the strange atmosphere of Franz’s apartment, Celeste pulled Zane aside. Victoria, in a surprising burst of energy, ordered Monopoly through a delivery app and insisted they play.
"Can we talk?" she asked, quietly.
Zane looked up from the kitchen counter where he was helping Lena sort snacks. "Yeah, sure."
They stepped into the hallway, a little distance from the others.
Celeste looked down for a second, then back up. "I’m sorry... for before."
"I mean... I was rude. When you tried to comfort me. I snapped. You didn’t deserve that."
Zane scratched the back of his head. "Hey, it’s fine. You weren’t exactly having a great day."
Celeste gave a small smile. "Still. I feel bad"
Zane grinned. " I know you didn’t mean it. Let’s go!"
Celeste’s heart did a funny twist.
They played. They argued over fake rent. Emphera flipped the board once when she landed on Boardwalk. Lena giggled nonstop. Iris played with serious look on her face.
Victoria laughed until her stomach hurt.
Later, they put on a movie. Then another. One by one, they drifted off.
Zane in the middle of the couch. Celeste curled against his left shoulder, Emphera on his right. Iris leaned against Emphera. Lena against Celeste.
Victoria watched them, arms crossed.
"They look like puppies," she muttered. "Why did my daughter fall for this playboy?"
She pulled a blanket over them.
Her phone buzzed in her coat pocket.
Come to the Ardent mansion.
She stood there, staring at it.
The weight of the moment landed slowly.
She turned to look at the couch again—at her daughter, the friends, the warmth.
Then she walked toward the door.