Earlier That Morning - Levesque Manor
"Absolutely not."
Kalina stared at the monstrosity her mother was holding up with the enthusiasm of someone presenting a winning lottery ticket.
It was purple. Aggressively purple.
With layers upon layers of tulle that made it look like something a flower girl would wear to a fairy-tale wedding. Rhinestones sparkled along the bodice. There were ruffles.
"Mother," Kalina said carefully, "that is a princess gown."
"It's elegant," her mother corrected, beaming.
"It's a costume."
"It's Valentino!"
"I don't care if it's made by God himself, I'm not wearing that to a memorial service."
Ophelia appeared in the doorway of Kalina's bedroom, took one look at the dress, and immediately turned to leave.
"Oh no you don't!" Their mother's voice cracked like a whip. "Ophelia Levesque, get back here!"
Ophelia froze mid-escape, shoulders slumping in defeat. She trudged back into the room like a prisoner approaching the gallows.
"Please tell me that's not what I think it is," Ophelia muttered.
Their mother produced a second dress from behind her back with a flourish.
An identical purple princess gown.
"MATCHING?" Ophelia's voice went up three octaves. "Mother, we're not twins! We're not even close in age! I'm twenty-four, not four!"
"You'll look adorable together!"
"We'll look like we're going to a children's beauty pageant!" Kalina protested.
"Nonsense. Purple is very sophisticated—"
"Purple is fine," Kalina interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Purple at a garden party? Great. Purple at a memorial service for a dead woman? Insane."
Their mother's expression turned calculating. "Kalina, darling, you need a suitor."
Oh no. Here it comes.
"And Maximilian Blackwood will likely be there—"
"MOM!" Ophelia's face went bright red.
"—so you need to look presentable. Put-together. Feminine." Their mother gave Kalina's usual blazer-and-pants ensemble a pointed look.
Kalina crossed her arms. "I am plenty feminine, thank you."
"In business casual, yes. But this—" She shook the purple monstrosity. "—this says 'marriageable young woman of good breeding.'"
"This says 'kidnapped by Barbie,'" Kalina deadpanned.
Ophelia snorted.
Their mother was undeterred. "Your father specifically said you two have the lowest attendance record at family social events—"
"Because most of them are boring—" Kalina began.
"—and that you, Ophelia, only attend events that benefit your gallery, not the family business."
Ophelia's jaw dropped. "That's not—okay, that's partially true, but—"
"So you're both going. Together. Representing the Levesque name. And you're wearing these dresses because I spent a fortune on them and they're designer."
"They're hideous," Kalina said flatly.
"They're purple!" their mother insisted, as if that explained everything.
There was a long, painful silence.
Finally, Ophelia sighed. "If I wear this, can I at least do my own hair and makeup?"
"Of course, darling!"
"Fine." Ophelia snatched the dress from her mother's hands. "But I'm burning this the second we get home."
Their mother turned to Kalina expectantly.
Kalina looked at the dress. Looked at her mother's stubborn expression. Looked at Ophelia's betrayed face.
"I hate you both," she announced, taking the dress.
"Love you too, honey!" her mother chirped, and swept out of the room like she'd just won a war.
The moment she was gone, both sisters stared at each other.
"We are NOT wearing these," Kalina said.
"Obviously not," Ophelia agreed.
"We'll figure something out in the car."
"Deal."
Two Hours Later - In the Car
The queue of cars leading to the Castillon estate stretched for what felt like miles.
Kalina sat in the driver's seat of Ophelia's white Mercedes, inching forward at a snail's pace, while Ophelia sat beside her looking equally miserable in her purple nightmare.
"This is supposed to be a memorial," Kalina muttered, eyeing the traffic jam ahead. "Not a concert. Why is there a queue?"
"Because it's the Castillon family," Ophelia said, scrolling through her phone. "Everyone who's anyone in this city is here. Networking dressed as mourning."
"Gross."
"Agreed."
They moved forward another three feet.
Kalina glanced down at her dress and grimaced. The rhinestones caught the sunlight and practically sparkled. She looked like a disco ball crossed with a cupcake.
"I can't believe Mother did this to us."
"I can't believe she thinks we're going to find husbands looking like rejected Disney princesses," Ophelia added.
"Speak for yourself. I'm not looking for a husband."
"Neither am I! But apparently Maxi Blackwood is going to take one look at me in this purple monstrosity and fall madly in love."
Kalina snickered. "Is he even coming?"
"I don't know." Ophelia's cheeks turned pink. "I didn't ask."
"You could text him."
"Absolutely not. That would be—no. No."
"Chicken."
"Shut up."
Finally, finally, they reached the entrance. A valet approached the car, his professional smile faltering slightly when he saw their matching purple gowns.
Kalina could practically see him trying not to laugh.
"We know," she said dryly as she handed him the keys. "Trust us. We know."
Ten Minutes Later - Quick Store Stop
"This place better have something black," Ophelia hissed as they ducked into a small boutique just outside the estate grounds.
"Anything is better than this," Kalina agreed, already scanning the racks.
The shop owner—a kind older woman—looked up, saw them, and her eyes went wide.
"Oh my..."
"Don't," Kalina warned. "Just... don't."
"We need blazers," Ophelia said quickly. "Or coats. Or literally anything that will cover—" She gestured helplessly at herself. "—this."
The woman bit her lip, clearly fighting a smile. "I have some lovely black coats in the back—"
"SOLD," both sisters said in unison.
Three minutes later, they emerged wearing matching long black coats—entirely by accident—that covered the purple gowns completely.
Ophelia looked down at herself, then at Kalina, then burst out laughing.
"We're STILL matching!"
"At least it's not purple," Kalina said, adjusting her collar. "And black is appropriate for a memorial."
"True." Ophelia linked her arm through Kalina's. "Okay. Let's do this."
"Wait—did Maxi show up?"
Ophelia checked her phone. "I don't see his name on the guest list update... No Silas either."
"Damn. There goes Mother's master plan."
"Thank God. I don't think I could face him while wearing a secret princess gown."
Kalina grinned. "Our secret shame."
"Forever and always."
At the Memorial
The Castillon estate was even more packed than Kalina had expected. Black-clad guests milled about the beautifully decorated grounds, speaking in hushed, respectful tones.
She and Ophelia stuck together at first, making polite conversation with business associates and distant family friends.
Then Ophelia spotted some of her old school friends across the lawn.
"Kal, I'm going to—" She gestured vaguely.
Kalina knew what she meant. Ophelia's old friend group. The ones from before. There was still tension there—old wounds that hadn't quite healed—but they maintained appearances. In their world, connections mattered more than comfort.
"Go," Kalina said. "I'll wander."
Ophelia squeezed her hand gratefully and headed off.
Kalina exhaled, finally alone.
She started walking aimlessly through the grounds, observing. People-watching.
Trying not to die of boredom.
That's when she spotted him.
Rhys Castillon, walking alone toward the far side of the estate. His posture was rigid, his expression blank. But there was something about the way he moved—mechanical, detached—that made her pause.
Curious, she followed at a distance.
He led her to the family burial garden.
Kalina hung back near the entrance, partially hidden by a stone pillar. She watched as Rhys stopped in front of a white marble headstone.
Siennah Castillon
Even from here, she could see his shoulders start to shake.
And then he broke.
Rhys Castillon—cold, controlled, untouchable Rhys Castillon—wept.
Kalina's chest tightened. She shouldn't be seeing this. This was private. Raw.
But she couldn't look away.
She watched him cry for his dead wife, watched him finally let three years of grief pour out, and felt something crack inside her own chest.
What a mess, she thought sadly.
Eventually, Rhys wiped his face roughly and turned away from the grave. He walked quickly—almost running—back toward the main grounds.
Kalina followed again, keeping her distance.
She saw him get into his car. Saw him sit there for a long moment, phone to his ear. Then he started the engine and drove away.
Kalina stood in the car park, staring after him.
"He's still bleeding," she murmured to herself, shaking her head.
Still bleeding from a wound that never closed.
She sighed and pulled out her phone to text Ophelia.
Time to find her sister and get out of here.
This memorial was depressing enough without watching broken men fall apart in graveyards.