Veils and Mirrors

Friday crept up like a whisper I didn't want to hear. I had tried everything—meetings, reports, even a spontaneous visit to the legal team—to distract myself. But now, standing in front of my wardrobe, none of that mattered.

Sarah hovered nearby with a steamer. "Your appointment at the Aldridge estate is confirmed for three o'clock."

"I remember," I said, my voice flatter than I intended.

She didn't push, just hung a pale blush dress on the door. "This one. It's soft enough for Evelyn, but still sharp enough for you."

I looked at it in silence. It reminded me of a peace treaty stitched from silk.

As the car pulled away from Cater Tower, I told myself I wasn't nervous. I was prepared. I had survived worse. But something about Evelyn unsettled me—not because she was unkind, but because she wasn't. I had no weapon for warmth. It made me vulnerable.

By the time we arrived at the Aldridge estate, the sun had dipped low, casting a honeyed glow across the trimmed hedges and ivy-lined gates. Evelyn met me at the entrance in a pale blue cardigan, smiling like she'd waited all day just to see me.

"Celine, darling," she said, embracing me. Her perfume smelled of violets and orange blossoms—gentle, elegant, maternal.

I let her hug me. For a second too long.

"I hope you don't mind," she said as we walked inside, "but I asked the staff to prepare some of Charles's favorites. He always eats more when he's surrounded by family."

I blinked. "Is he joining us?"

She chuckled. "Not today. This afternoon is for us. Just us girls."

The tea service was immaculate—rose-patterned china, petit fours, lemon curd in crystal bowls. Evelyn poured for me first, as though I were royalty.

We made light conversation at first. Books. Florals. The spring charity gala. But soon the air thickened with meaning.

"I remember when I first met Blake's father," Evelyn said, gently stirring her tea. "He was all fire and ambition. Reminded me so much of Blake now."

I glanced at her. "He loved him a lot."

She smiled faintly. "Yes. But more importantly, he respected him. And that kind of love... it carves into you. Leaves echoes. That's why I always hoped Blake would find someone who could meet him—not just in ambition, but in spirit."

I looked down at my teacup, unsure what to say. I wasn't that person.

"I know this arrangement wasn't born from romance," Evelyn continued. "But I see the way you carry yourself, Celine. You don't yield easily. That's a strength most people misunderstand."

I inhaled slowly. "It's not strength. It's survival."

She nodded, as if she'd expected that answer. "Sometimes, they're the same."

Before I could reply, she rose and crossed to a small wooden chest by the window. When she returned, she held out a velvet box.

"This," she said, "has been in the Aldridge family for four generations. It's given to every woman who joins us by marriage."

I hesitated. "Evelyn—"

"You don't have to accept it today," she said gently. "But I want you to know that you're already part of this family. Not because of duty. But because you chose to stay."

The weight of her words sat heavier than the velvet box.

I took it in my hands but didn't open it.

"I'll think about it," I whispered.

Evelyn didn't press. She just reached over and squeezed my hand.

When I returned to the penthouse, Blake wasn't home. I set the box on my vanity next to the brooch.

Two symbols of legacy. Two choices I hadn't made—but might need to.

I stared at my reflection, wondering how long I could keep wearing armor without forgetting how to breathe without it.