Upon closer inspection, I see that she's wearing pajamas decorated with tiny wine glasses and has already applied a green face mask that makes her look like a swamp creature."That's like, sister code violation number one,” she declares.”
I scoff.“I texted that the meeting went well.”
"'Meeting productive, home soon' is not a report," Viktoria says, handing me a glass of red wine."It's a hostage proof-of-life statement."
I accept the wine, glancing around at my transformed living room.
Cushions have been conscripted from every piece of furniture to create seating inside the fort.
My coffee table is laden with an alarming array of junk food—cheese puffs, chocolate, those weird Swedish fish Susanna's obsessed with—and three laptops are set up in what appears to be a command center configuration.
"Did you hack my building's security to get in here?"I ask Viktoria.
"Please," she scoffs."Your super gave us the spare key.We told him it was your birthday."
"It's July.My birthday's in November.”
"He didn't ask for ID," Susanna shrugs."Also, we brought him cookies."
I take a long sip of wine."I've had a very long day."
"Which is exactly why you need a sister summit," Susanna says, tugging me toward the fort."Strip down, put these on, and prepare for intensive decompression."
She thrusts a pair of flannel pajamas into my arms—the matching set they'd given me last Christmas, with tiny pomegranates printed on dark blue fabric.
Twenty minutes later, freshly showered and pajama-clad, I crawl into the fort to find my sisters have created a surprisingly comfortable nest.
Christmas lights strung around the interior cast a warm glow, and my favorite fuzzy blanket has been arranged in the center.
"Better?"Viktoria asks, refilling my wine.
"Much," I admit, settling cross-legged into the cushions."Though I still don't understand the emergency."
My sisters exchange a look—the silent communication that's both infuriating and comforting when you're the middle child.
"You tell her," Susanna nudges Viktoria.
"Tell me what?"
Viktoria opens one of the laptops."This."
She turns the screen toward me, displaying a webpage titled "Kilt Nation: All Things Abernathy."
The site features professional-quality graphics, multiple discussion forums, and what appears to be a merchandise store.
"What am I looking at?"I ask.
"The fan site dedicated to your boss," Viktoria explains."It launched three days ago and already has forty thousand members."
I nearly spit out my wine."Forty thousand?"
"And that's just the beginning."She navigates to another tab."This is 'Abernathy Analytics,' where they dissect his public appearances for 'clues' about his personal life."
The page displays a detailed chart of Callum's tie selections over the past year, with commentary about what each color choice supposedly reveals about his emotional state.
"According to their analysis," Susanna says, leaning forward, "navy with subtle patterns indicates he's feeling confident but guarded, while burgundy suggests he's 'open to romantic possibilities.'"
"That's insane," I mutter.
