I knock at 10:49 AM.
She opens the door wearing jeans and a gray sweater, hair down, looking more rested than yesterday but still carrying exhaustion in the tightness around her eyes.
"Hey." She steps aside to let me enter. "Come in."
Her apartment looks the same as yesterday. But the morning light through her windows makes everything feel different. Less like a tactical briefing location and more like someone's actual home.
"How was Mira?" I ask, setting my laptop on her coffee table, maintaining the professional framing even though Elias's instructions are circling in my head.
"Fierce and strategic. Exactly what I needed." Lana settles onto the couch, pulls her knees up in that protective position I've learned to recognize. "She reviewed the recording from yesterday. Said Ezra's threats are explicit enough to establish malicious intent. That if he proceeds with formal challenges, we can demonstrate this isn't about justice—it's about control and money."
"That's good. Strong legal positioning." I sit on the opposite end of the couch, the same careful distance we've maintained through multiple conversations. "Did she give you a timeline?"
"Ezra has until next Thursday to decide whether he's filing formal proceedings. Mira's preparing our response eitherway—settlement rejection or full legal defense." She wraps her arms around her knees. "She also said I should prepare for discovery if this goes to court. That my therapy records will likely get subpoenaed. My phone records. Financial transactions. Everything."
"Everything Gabriel did to you will get examined too. The surveillance, the control, the abuse. That works in your favor."
"Or it makes me look like an unreliable narrator. A traumatized widow rewriting history to justify inheriting her husband's fortune." Her voice is steady, but I can hear the fear underneath. "Mira was honest about that possibility. That juries sometimes don't believe women who stayed in abusive marriages. Who didn't leave until their husbands were dead."
The system's failure to protect survivors isn't news, but hearing Lana voice that specific fear makes anger pulse through my chest. "Then we make sure the evidence is overwhelming. The recording from yesterday. Testimony from people who witnessed Gabriel's behavior. Documentation of his monitoring and control."
"Solange offered to testify. Said she'd describe what she saw during our marriage." Lana looks at me directly. "Would you?"
The question catches me off guard. "Testify?"
"You've been watching me for weeks. You've seen how I move through the world, how I respond to threats, whether I'm actually unstable or just appropriately traumatized." She holds my gaze. "Would you testify to that? To what you've observed?"
Professional protocol says I should refuse. Surveillance evidence gathered without court authorization isn't admissible, and admitting to monitoring her phone and installing camerasin her apartment would expose Lucien's operation to scrutiny neither of us can afford.
But Lana isn't asking about legal admissibility. She's asking whether I'd stand up in court and defend her if necessary.
"Yes." The answer comes without calculation. "I'd testify. Maybe not about specific surveillance methods, but about my professional assessment of your stability, your trauma responses, your capability. If they're going to question whether you're fit to inherit Gabriel's estate, I'll provide an expert opinion that you're not just fit—you're functioning at a level most people couldn't manage under similar circumstances."
Something shifts in her expression. Relief, maybe. Or recognition that I'm willing to risk professional exposure to protect her.
"Thank you." She unfolds slightly, relaxing the protective position by increments. "Mira said character witnesses would be important. That showing I'm rebuilding my life rather than falling apart strengthens our position."
"The foundation helps with that. Turning Gabriel's money into freedom for other survivors—that's evidence of purpose, not instability."
"Ezra's investigators will probably argue it's guilt money. That I rushed into starting the foundation to assuage conscience over killing Gabriel."
"Let them argue it. The foundation exists. It's helping people. Whatever motivated you to start it matters less than what it's actually doing." I lean forward slightly, closing the distance between us by inches rather than feet. "You're allowed to build something good from something terrible. That's not guilt—that's transformation."
She studies me for a long moment, and I can see her processing whether to believe that framing or whether to default to the self-condemnation Gabriel trained into her.
"Elias called me this morning," I say, shifting topics before the weight of her gratitude becomes uncomfortable. "He wanted to debrief yesterday. Make sure I'd maintained appropriate boundaries."
Her eyebrows rise slightly. "Boundaries?"
"He gave me specific rules before the lunch. Parameters for how to observe without intervening." I lean back slightly; aware I'm revealing something I probably should have mentioned earlier. "I haven't told you this part yet, but when I asked Elias to have veto power over my protection of you—to be able to tell me when I'm crossing lines—he took that seriously. He gave me a list of rules for yesterday specifically."
"What kind of rules?"
"Document, don't intervene. Physical danger only—psychological attacks don't count as emergencies. Let you fight your own battles." I count them off, watching her process this. "If I felt the urge to intervene, I was supposed to text him first so he could talk me down. And afterward, I was supposed to debrief with him before coming to you."
"Did you follow them?"
"Mostly. Texted him twice when I wanted to cross Marconi's and end Ezra's interrogation. He talked me down both times. Reminded me that intervention would compromise your legal position."
