Crossing the room, she snatched the phone up, eyes scanning the screen. “Thank you for today,” the text said. “For being there.I don’t say it enough, but I see how much you do for me. Sleep well. Goodnight, Kel.”
Kel’s heart stuttered. Her thumb hovered over the screen.So simple, she thought.So kind. So Madeline. She reread it three times, then whispered, “Goodnight, Madeline,” to the empty room like a fool. She wanted to reply. To say something honest. Like how seeing Madeline rally after Ruthi’s insult made her proud. Or how she’d been about two seconds from throttling the director on her behalf. Or how the only reason she hadn’t lost her mind today was because Madeline had looked at her like she was the only steady thing in the chaos. But she didn’t say any of that and instead, she typed back, “Always. Sleep well.”
Then she powered off the phone, placed it face down on the table, and headed for the shower. If she cried under the spray, no one would know. And if she dreamed of Madeline tonight, well… that wasn’t new.
5
The first light of morning crept through the trees as the sun rose over the Isle of Dreams. Ms. Leighton walked the stone path, her ivory silk robe shifting slightly in the breeze. A bird called from the canopy above and she tilted her head to listen, then smiled faintly. It was her favorite time of day. Before the guests stirred, before the staff began their orchestrated ballet of service and discretion, and before the island hummed with expectation and transformation. The garden behind her private bungalow was closed off from the rest of the resort by thick hedges and a wrought-iron gate only two other people had the code to unlock. It was her sanctuary.
She moved to the small teak table set beneath the pergola, its lattice roof now dappled with the shifting shadows of sunrise. The scent of hibiscus and citrus blossoms hung in the air. Taking her usual seat, she sat facing the koi pond, where orange and white bodies glided beneath the surface. Moments later, the gate clicked open. The young man who brought her breakfast each morning, Rafe, entered silently, carrying the silver tray with practiced ease. He was the only member of the hospitality staff permitted into this space. He was discreet, punctual, and unfailingly polite.
“Good morning, Ms. Leighton,” he said softly, placing the tray before her. A carafe of green tea, a small bowl of fresh papaya, two slices of toasted coconut bread, and a soft-boiled egg in a porcelain cup. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“Thank you, Rafe,” she replied, not looking away from the pond. He gave a slight bow and exited without another word, leaving her alone with the birds and the steam curling from her tea. She sipped slowly, letting the heat settle into her. Her mind, sharp even at this quiet hour, began its usual inventory of the guests, staff, and all the logistics, but it was the emotional currents she was most attuned to. The subtle tides of longing, fear, and hope that arrived with each plane. Some guests wore their wounds on their sleeves. Others buried them so deeply that it took days to unearth the shape of their pain. But Ms. Leighton always saw them. Always felt them. It was her gift. And her burden.
The sound of the gate opening again pulled her attention away. Antonia entered with her usual quiet efficiency, dressed in her standard uniform of tailored black slacks and a fitted white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Her boots made no sound on the stone path. “Good morning,” Ms. Leighton said, and Antonia nodded as she sat at the table across from her.
“Ma’am.”
“I take it you’ve reviewed the overnight reports?” Ms. Leighton asked.
Antonia’s nod was crisp. “Yes. All guests are accounted for. No disturbances and the initial interactions are... progressing.” She paused for a beat. “The verbal exchange between Ruthi Shay and Madeline Whitley was more than I expected this early but not unwelcome.”
Ms. Leighton smiled faintly. “No, not unwelcome at all. That kind of friction has its uses. Sparks, when handled correctly, can illuminate as much as they burn.”
“Madeline appeared to be unnerved by it,” Antonia said. “I sensed Kel was ready to throw punches.”
“She’s fiercely loyal,” Ms. Leighton murmured. “And more observant than she lets on. Madeline’s lucky to have her.”
“And Eve?” Antonia asked.
A flicker of something unreadable crossed Ms. Leighton’s face. “She’s begun.”
Antonia arched a brow. “Already?”
“She doesn’t waste time,” Ms. Leighton said. “And Ruthi is, shall we say, ripe for the unraveling. It’s always the ones who hide behind control that ache most for surrender.” The twitch of Antonia’s jaw suggested her silent agreement. Ms. Leighton reached for a piece of papaya. “Tell me about today’s shoot.”
“I suggest the east side,” Antonia said. “There’s a cove there we rarely use. It’s quiet. Untouched. The light is perfect at mid-morning, and the terrain reflects the themes of Solis—resilience, renewal, and hope.”
Ms. Leighton smiled. “Yes, that sounds ideal,” she said. “You are quite clever, giving our guests more time to interact. Let the tensions simmer a bit.”
With a small smile, Antonia didn’t deny it. “I’ll arrange transport,” she said. “Three jeeps. One for equipment, one for crew, and one for guests.”
“Good,” Ms. Leighton said. “Let them know to dress comfortably. We’ll call it a location preview, but I want Madeline and Ruthi to feel the space before the cameras roll. Let them inhabit it.”
Nodding, Antonia stood. “It will be done,” she said as she turned to go, but paused at the garden gate. “I’ll keep you posted on how things progress.”
“I had no doubt,” Ms. Leighton said. As the gate closed behind her assistant, Ms. Leighton exhaled slowly. The garden felt quieter now, though not emptier. Antonia had that effect,cutting through the noise but leaving a presence behind. She sipped her tea again, her gaze drifting toward the koi pond. The fish swam in lazy circles, unaware of the dramas unfolding above the water. She envied them, sometimes. Their simplicity. Their trust in the boundaries of their world.
Antonia was invaluable. Loyal. Incorruptible. But Ms. Leighton knew, had learned the hard way in fact, that no one was irreplaceable. She could survive without her. She had survived worse. Her fingers tapped the rim of her teacup absently. Once, long ago, she’d trusted someone the way she now relied on Antonia. Someone who knew the codes to more than only the garden gate. Someone she trusted. And when the betrayal came, it was not loud. It was quiet. Almost surgical. She pressed her lips together.That was a different lifetime, she thought.A different woman.
Still, as the breeze shifted and the scent of lemon blossoms filled the air, Ms. Leighton allowed herself one small indulgence. One whispered thought.I hope you’re watching.I hope you see what I’ve built without you. And I hope it haunts you.
Then she rose, smoothed her robe, and walked toward the house. There was work to be done, fantasies to orchestrate, and if the island had its way, truths to unearth.
The sand was stillcool beneath her feet, the sun barely beginning to rise over the edge of the island. Madeline walked slowly along the shoreline, letting her toes sink into the damp earth with every step. The breeze was soft and salty, teasing loose strands of her hair and carrying the faint scent of hibiscus from the nearby gardens. Kel walked beside her, a few steps ahead, crouching occasionally to inspect something in the sand. She had already tucked three shells into her pocket, each one more colorful than the last. Madeline had no idea what madeone shell more interesting than another, but Kel seemed to know.
“Look at this one,” Kel said, holding something out. Madeline leaned over to inspect it. A spiral shell with iridescent stripes that shimmered in the light. It didn’t even look real. “That’s ridiculous,” she murmured. “How does nature even make something like that?”
