Eleanor’s mouth pinches.
“You have no right to be here,” she says.
But she’s watching Julian’s hand, watching the case, watching the way he doesn’t flinch.
Julian doesn’t argue.
He pulls out his phone and taps the screen, and suddenly the air fills with a sound you didn’t notice before.
A faint, constant hum.
The chandelier.
The camera you didn’t know existed, hidden inside the ornate metal like a spider in a flower.
Arthur’s expression shifts, just a hair.
Not fear.
Calculation.
“What is that?” Chloe asks too quickly, too bright.
Julian’s voice stays calm.
“It’s evidence,” he says.
“And the cloud already has a copy.”
Eleanor’s face goes pale in a way that makeup can’t fix.
“Turn that off,” she snaps, stepping forward.
Julian doesn’t move.
“Touch me,” he says softly, “and we add assault.”
You want to speak, but your throat is sand.
Your baby kicks, or maybe it’s your imagination, but the movement brings you back into your own body like a rope pulling you from dark water.
You force air in.
“Hospital,” you rasp.
Julian nods once, already dialing.
“Emergency,” he says into the phone.
“Pregnant woman, severe burns, possible attempted homicide.”
The words hang in the room like a sentence being written.
Arthur laughs, short, thin.
“Attempted homicide,” he repeats, like it’s melodramatic.
Then he looks down at you and his voice lowers.
“You’re going to ruin yourself,” he says, almost kindly.
“Think about your baby. Think about what a scandal does.”
Julian’s gaze snaps to him.
“You mean the baby you were trying to erase?” Julian asks.
Arthur’s smile fades.
And for the first time, the room feels smaller.
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