CHAPTER 49
The antique bookstore remained dark that day, its brass-belled door locked and the "Closed" sign quietly swinging with the draft. Viv sat on the carpet, legs folded, absentmindedly dangling a string toy for Duke Pudding. To anyone who entered, she would have looked perfectly at ease. Her face was calm, her demeanor unchanged—as though nothing at all had happened on her solitary walk earlier. Yet the faint scent of fresh flowers clung to her coat, and there was something in her stillness that was almost too controlled.
By the time Daphne came home from work, the apartment was filled with the soft glow of evening. She stepped into their home, carrying the day's weariness on her shoulders, but her sharp green eyes immediately scanned Viv—playing with Duke, looking as if the world was nothing but quiet simplicity.
"Hey," Daphne greeted, her voice warm as ever.
Viv looked up, deadpan but fond in her own way. "You're back."
Daph dropped her bag by the door, crouched to kiss Viv quickly on the lips, and then headed straight to the kitchen. "You didn't open the shop today?" she asked casually as she washed her hands.
"Needed a day," Viv replied simply. No elaboration, no hesitation.
Daph didn't push. She knew very well where Viv had been, but she played along. If Viv wanted space, Daph would give it—just as she had promised herself.
As the scent of garlic and herbs filled the kitchen, Viv eventually spoke up, voice low and even.
"I ran into someone today."
Daph glanced over her shoulder. "Oh?"
"Donnelly." Viv's tone was clipped, factual. "She appeared out of nowhere."
The knife in Daph's hand paused for the briefest second, but she resumed chopping as if nothing had happened. "Lux," she repeated, her tone carefully neutral. "What did she want?"
"Same as always. Trying to dig, provoke, I suppose. I told her to stop sniffing around. Gave her a warning." Viv's gaze dropped to Duke Pudding's glossy fur, stroking it without any trace of tension. "She'll get bored eventually."
Daph exhaled slowly through her nose. No, she won't, she thought, but she didn't voice it. Viv's detached confidence was both reassuring and infuriating. Lux wasn't the type to simply disappear.
Instead, Daph forced a light smile as she plated their dinner. "Good. I don't want her circling you again."
"She's not worth your worry," Viv said, tone final, dismissive.
But Daphne was worried. Even as they ate together, her mind worked silently in the background, calculating. Viv underestimated Lux—underestimated the danger she could pose. But Daph would not. She tucked her concerns neatly behind casual conversation, letting Viv believe she had put the matter to rest.
Halfway through dinner, Daph set her fork down. "There's something I should tell you."
Viv raised an eyebrow.
"In three days, I have to fly to the States. Work trip. A week."
Silence. Viv's fork hovered mid-air, then lowered with slow reluctance. Her eyes, cool and sharp, held Daph's. "America?"
"Yes." Daph kept her tone calm, unshaken. "New York, mostly. Meetings, training seminars. Standard IT work."
"No," Viv said instantly, almost sharply. "I'm not going there."
Daph chuckled softly. "I didn't even ask yet."
"You don't have to. The answer's the same. America is nothing but ghosts and mess. I'm done with it." Viv's voice was firm, her deadpan expression hiding the flicker of unease behind her eyes.
Daph leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching her intently. "Then come with me."
Viv froze. "I just said—"
"Viv," Daph interrupted gently. "I don't like the thought of leaving you here. Not with her still wandering around. Not after the spam mails, the notes... all of it. I'd be worried sick the whole time."
Viv's lips pressed into a thin line. "I can handle Lux."
"That's not the point. The point is, I'd rather have you beside me. So I won't spend the week staring at my phone like a lunatic."
Viv's jaw tightened. "Daphne, no. I don't—"
"Please." Daph's voice softened, the kind of softness that undid even Viv's strongest walls. Her green eyes were steady, honest. "Just this once. Come with me. If not for you, then for me."
There was a long silence. The clink of cutlery, the hum of the refrigerator. Finally, Viv exhaled sharply, like someone conceding to a battle she never wanted to fight.
"Fine. But only because you're insufferably persuasive."
Daph's lips broke into a grin, relief flooding her expression. She reached across the table to squeeze Viv's hand. "You won't regret it. I promise I'll make it worth your while. In fact..." Her smile turned secretive. "I've already planned a surprise for you there."
Viv narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but said nothing. The corner of her mouth twitched upward—just a fraction.
The following morning, while Viv reopened the shop, Daph carried out her own silent plan. With a bouquet of lilies in hand, she traveled alone to the quiet cemetery. The sky was a pale grey, the air thick with unspoken memories. She found Samira's grave easily—the stone etched with her name, the flowers Viv had left still fresh from the day before.
Daph stood there for a long moment, lips parted but silent. Memories washed over her: training sessions, laughter in the dead of night, the quiet bond they had once shared.
"Samira," she murmured at last, placing the lilies beside the grave. "I don't know if you'd approve of the choices we've made. Of the life Viv has now. But... she's alive. She's safe. And I'll keep it that way."
She swallowed, her throat tightening. "I'll take care of her. Even when she doesn't want me to. You'd understand, wouldn't you?"
The wind stirred, gentle and cold. Daph pressed her palm against the cool stone, a silent vow, before turning away.
Elsewhere in London, Lux's mood was anything but serene. Her fingers drummed impatiently against a glass of wine as she flipped through the photos her informant had delivered. The one was Samira's gravestone—the one she had taken herself.
Samira al-Hadi.
Useless. No record matched. No trace of the woman existed beyond that stone. Like a ghost.
Lux's eyes narrowed, a spark of frustration igniting into obsession.
"She's hiding something from me," Lux murmured. "Both of them."
Her phone buzzed. A new message. One of her men, trailing Daphne.
Attached: a photo. Daphne at the same grave.
Lux's nails dug into her palm.
"Oh, Daphne..." she whispered, voice dripping with venom and amusement. "So you know her too."
Then Lux's lips curved into a slow, razor-sharp smile. "Well, well. Isn't this interesting?"
The glass tipped in her hand, crimson wine catching the light like blood.
Across the ocean, Pen sat at her desk, hair neatly tied back, textbooks spread before her. To anyone watching, she was the picture of discipline: quiet, studious, obedient.
But her eyes lingered too long on the same page. Her fingers tapped restlessly against the desk. There was a faint smile tugging at her lips, something secret, something wrong.
And though the surveillance camera in the corner captured every second, it couldn't quite catch the glint in her eyes.
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