"What did you expect?"
"Lip service. The appearance of control while you maintained actual access. Gabriel used to do that—tell me I had choices, then structure situations so only one choice wasviable." She takes a sip of coffee. "But you actually gave me admin privileges. I could lock you out of the system entirely if I wanted."
"You could. But you won't."
"Why are you so sure?"
"Because you need the protection more than you need the privacy. And because you're smart enough to know that having someone watching who you've vetted is better than being watched by people you haven't." I lean back against the booth. "Plus, you invited me to lunch. People who want to lock out their surveillance don't buy lunch for the person doing the surveilling."
Her lips curve into a small smile. "Fair point. Though maybe I'm just trying to understand my watcher. Keep your enemies close and all that."
"Am I your enemy?"
"I don't know what you are yet." She sets down her coffee. "That's part of why I wanted to talk. Thursday's lunch with Ezra—I'm worried about it."
"You have reason to be. He's not inviting you for nostalgia."
"I know. Solange will be there, at a different table. But I'm wondering..." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "Would you be willing to be there too? Not at my table—that would escalate things. But close enough that if Ezra tries something, if he becomes threatening, there's someone who can intervene?"
I keep my expression neutral even though Lucien already gave me this exact assignment. "I can be there. Close enough to monitor, far enough to avoid escalating tension."
Relief crosses her face. "Thank you. I know it's asking a lot—"
"It's not. It's smart threat management." I lean back against the booth. "Multiple observers means multiple perspectives. Harder for Ezra to manipulate the narrative if three people can contradict his version."
"You've done this before. Managed situations where someone's trying to construct false narratives."
It's not a question. She's stating fact, making an educated guess about my background. I could deflect, could maintain professional distance. But lunch at Stella's isn't professional distance. It's two people negotiating what honesty looks like.
"I've done it before," I confirm. "Different contexts, different stakes. But the principle is the same—document everything, maintain witnesses, never allow yourself to be isolated with someone who's building a case against you."
"Gabriel used to isolate me." She says it matter-of-factly, without self-pity. "Dinners where I didn't know anyone, events where he'd abandon me with strangers, then criticize how I handled myself later. It was a test I could never pass because passing wasn't the point. Failing was."
The server arrives with our food. We're both quiet while she sets down plates, refills coffee, and retreats. Then Lana picks up her spoon, stirs her soup without eating.
"I'm telling you this," she continues, "because I need you to understand what I'm walking into Thursday. Ezra is Gabriel's brother. He learned the same manipulation tactics. He'll be charming, concerned, and reasonable. And underneath that, he'll be documenting every reaction, every word, every hesitation. Building his case."
"Then we build ours first." I take a bite of my sandwich, buying time to organize my thoughts. "What's your legal position? What does the will actually say?"
"Everything to me. No contingencies, no conditions. Gabriel updated it two years into our marriage. His attorney—Malcolm Fielding—assured me it's ironclad."
"Malcolm Fielding, who sent you the text about irregularities."
"The same. Which suggests either he's being pressured by Ezra, or he's found something that actually compromises the estate distribution." She finally tastes her soup. "Solange thinks Gabriel was involved in things that would expose powerful people if investigated publicly. Financial crimes, maybe worse. She's been decoding his encrypted files."
This aligns with what Lucien told me. Gabriel Pope wasn't just a venture capitalist with controlling tendencies. He was connected to networks that operate in shadows, that trade in information and leverage and consequences.
"The Glasshouse," I say.
Her head snaps up. "How do you know about that?"
"Because I've been investigating Gabriel since Lucien assigned me to watch you. Following financial trails, encrypted communications, meeting records. Gabriel had ties to The Glasshouse—funding, maybe more. If that comes out during estate proceedings, people who can't afford exposure will move to contain it."
"Contain it how?"
"However necessary. Discredit you. Eliminate evidence. Worst case—" I stop myself, but she finishes the thought.
"Worst case, eliminate me." She sets down her spoon, and I can see her processing this reality. "You're saying I'm not just fighting Ezra over money. I'm fighting to stay alive."
