Earlier - En Route to Their Homes
June Crystal stared at his phone, his thumb hovering over the contact labeled "Handler."
This has gone too far.
He'd helped Amelia because she was his sister. Because she was heartbroken.
Because he'd thought scaring Ophelia a little—maybe making her back off from Maxi—would be harmless.
He'd never intended for anyone to get "hurt".
And now some innocent woman was in the hospital with a head injury, and the people he'd hired were talking about "handling it" and trying again.
No. Absolutely not.
He pressed dial.
"Yeah?" The voice on the other end was gruff, professional.
"Call it off," June said, his voice tight. "All of it. I want you to stop immediately."
There was a pause. "We don't offer refunds—"
"I don't care about the money. I want you to stop. No more attempts. No more surveillance. Nothing. And clean up your traces. All of them. Security footage, evidence, everything. Make it disappear."
Another pause, longer this time.
"That's going to cost extra."
"I don't care. Just do it. And if I find out you've gone near Ophelia Levesque or her family again, I'll make sure the authorities know exactly who to look for."
The threat hung in the air.
Finally: "Fine. Consider it done. We'll scrub everything by morning."
The line went dead.
June dropped his phone on his desk and buried his face in his hands.
What the hell have I become?
He'd crossed a line he could never uncross.
And all because his sister couldn't let go of a man who would never love her back.
Levesque Manor - Main Quarters
The car ride home had been silent.
Oppressively, uncomfortably silent.
Lyra and Atticus had separated from her parents at the manor's main entrance—Mr. Levesque and Seraphina heading to the east wing while they turned toward their private quarters in the west.
The moment they stepped through their door, Atticus went straight to the kitchen without a word.
Lyra stood in the foyer, watching him, her mind racing.
Something was wrong.
Something had been wrong since that car ride after the merger meeting with Logan and Kalina. The one where Atticus had been so suspicious of Kalina, so convinced she was hiding something.
Since then, he'd been... off.
Quieter than usual. Withdrawn. During the drive home from the hospital tonight, he hadn't offered a single opinion about the situation—hadn't speculated about who might want to hurt Ophelia, hadn't suggested security measures, hadn't done any of the analytical problem-solving he was known for.
He'd just driven. Silently.
And even now, he was being awfully quiet.
Lyra followed him into the kitchen.
Atticus was pouring himself a glass of water, his movements mechanical.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
He shrugged, not looking at her. "Nothing."
"Atticus—"
"I said nothing." He drank the entire glass in one go.
Lyra's chest tightened with frustration. "Do you think this is Kalina's doing?"
Atticus set the glass down with more force than necessary.
"Do you still think she has ulterior motives?" Lyra pressed, unable to stop herself. "Is that why you're being so quiet? Because you think she staged a hit-and-run to—what? Get attention? Manipulate the family? What exactly do you think she's—"
"Lyra, stop." His voice was low, warning.
But she couldn't stop. The stress of the day, the fear for her sisters, her confusion over her husband's behavior—it all came pouring out.
"You've been suspicious of her for years now! Ever since! You think she's hiding something, you think she's playing games, you think—"
"This isn't about Kalina!" Atticus suddenly roared, whirling to face her.
Lyra flinched.
"I'm happy she's okay!" he continued, his voice shaking with anger. "I don't think she staged anything! I don't think the way you think I think! So don't just fucking assume!"
He grabbed the empty glass and smashed it against the floor.
Glass exploded across the kitchen tiles.
The sound echoed in the sudden, terrible silence.
Lyra stood frozen, her heart pounding.
Atticus had never—never—reacted like this before.
In five years of marriage, she'd never seen him lose control. Never seen him raise his voice like that. Never seen him break something in anger.
"Are you that blind?" he asked quietly, his voice raw.
Then he turned and walked out of the kitchen, heading for the bathroom.
Lyra heard the door slam.
She stood alone in the kitchen, surrounded by shattered glass, her mind reeling.
What went wrong?
What had she missed?
What was he talking about?
Twenty Minutes Later
Lyra had cleaned up the broken glass in a daze, moving mechanically, her thoughts spinning.
She'd replayed the conversation over and over.
"This isn't about Kalina."
"Are you that blind?"
What did he mean?
She'd showered in the guest bathroom—giving Atticus space—then changed into comfortable clothes and went to the kitchen to prepare a light meal.
She wasn't hungry, but her hands needed something to do.
Soup. She made soup.
When she returned to their bedroom with the bowl, she found Atticus already asleep—or pretending to be—curled on his side of the bed, facing away from her.
His shoulders were tense even in sleep.
Lyra set the soup down on her nightstand, untouched.
She couldn't eat.
Instead, she gathered her laptop and a stack of business papers and retreated to her private working room down the hall—a small office she used when she needed to focus.
She buried herself in merger projections, acquisition reports, market analyses.
Anything to stop thinking about the look on her husband's face when he'd shattered that glass.
"Are you that blind?"
The numbers on the spreadsheet blurred.
Lyra rubbed her eyes and kept working.
Hours passed.
The house grew silent around her.
Eventually, exhaustion won.
She dozed off at her desk, her head pillowed on her arms, surrounded by papers she hadn't actually processed.
And in the bedroom down the hall, Atticus lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his jaw clenched.
He'd almost told her.
Almost said it.
I don't care about Kalina. I care that you don't see ME. That you don't see US falling apart.
But he hadn't.
Because what would be the point?
She was so wrapped up in family drama, business mergers, suspicions about her sisters—she didn't have room to see what was happening in her own marriage.
Atticus turned onto his side and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, he'd apologize for losing his temper.
Tomorrow, they'd pretend everything was fine.
Just like they'd been pretending for months.
Meanwhile - Kalina's Hospital Room
Kalina jerked awake, disoriented.
The room was dark except for the soft glow of medical equipment and the hallway light filtering under the door.
For a moment, she panicked—where am I?—before memory returned.
Hospital. Hit-and-run. Family found her.
She turned her head carefully—still hurt to move too fast—and saw Ophelia asleep in the cot the nurses had brought in, curled up under a thin hospital blanket.
And in the corner, Rhys sat in the chair he'd refused to give up, his head tilted back, eyes closed.
But she could tell from his breathing he wasn't actually asleep.
"You should go home," she whispered.
His eyes opened. "So should you."
"I'm literally hospitalized. I have an excuse."
"So do I. I'm protecting a witness."
"I'm not a witness. I didn't see who shot at the car."
"You're a target by association. Close enough."
Kalina sighed. "You're stubborn."
"You performed a concert on a hospital bed. You don't get to call anyone stubborn."
Despite everything, she smiled. "Fair point."
Silence settled between them—not uncomfortable, just... there.
"Rhys?" Kalina asked quietly.
"Mm?"
"Earlier, when you said people surprise you. That sometimes the threats you dismiss are the ones you should take seriously." She paused. "Were you talking about your wife?"
The air in the room changed.
Rhys's expression closed off completely. "Go to sleep, Kalina."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"I said go to sleep."
His tone left no room for argument.
Kalina bit her lip and turned away, facing the wall.
She'd crossed a line.
But she'd also learned something important.
Whatever had happened to Siennah Castillon, Rhys blamed himself for not taking some threat seriously.
And now he was determined not to make that mistake again.
Even if it meant staying up all night in an uncomfortable chair, watching over a woman he barely knew.
Kalina closed her eyes and let exhaustion pull her back under.
In the corner, Rhys stared into the darkness, his jaw tight.
I won't fail again.
Not this time.