We stay like that for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, pulses pounding in unison, the world reduced to the press of our bodies and the quiet intimacy of after.
"You've got cerulean blue in your hair again." Her smile is lazy, satisfied.
"You've got cadmium yellow on your nose."
We're both laughing when the encrypted phone rings. The laughter dies immediately. That phone only rings for important things.
Vivianne answers, putting it on speaker. "Yes?"
"Ms. Faulks." The voice is crisp, professional. "Agent Harrison, FBI Financial Crimes Division. Are you ready for your deposition?"
She moves to the laptop, already set up with an encrypted video connection. I stay out of frame but close enough to hold her hand if she needs it.
The next hour is grueling. They walk her through every detail of her father's operations—the Swiss accounts, the art in the vault, the connections to Sentinel. She's steady, clear, devastating in her precision. This is the fifteenth deposition she's given to various agencies. Each one peels back another layer of the criminal empire her father built.
"Can you confirm the defendant's connection to the organization known as Sentinel?"
"Yes. I heard him identify himself as 'the Fifth' during a phone conversation. He mentioned someone called Malfor, who I now understand was the head of the organization."
"And Malfor's current status?"
"Dead, as I understand it. Found in his Swiss compound two weeks ago."
The agent's expression doesn't change. "The investigation into his death is ongoing. Professional execution, no organization has claimed responsibility."
Vivianne's gaze meets mine. We have our suspicions about who might have ordered that hit. Jenny and her team were very clear that Sentinel needed to be completely dismantled. Sometimes that requires more than legal measures.
"Moving on to the recovered assets." The agent continues. "The coordinates from the Swan pendant have led to the recovery of approximately eighteen billion dollars in gold, art, and currency so far. Is that your understanding?"
"Yes." Vivianne confirms. "Though I believe there's still more to be found."
What she doesn't mention is the five billion that will never be officially recovered. Merlin and I made that decision together. Guardian HRS has saved too many lives to operate on hope and good intentions. They need funding, resources, and the ability to move without asking permission. Five billion ensures they can keep saving people like Vivianne for decades to come.
Forest and Sam didn't even pretend to be surprised when we made the offer. Just nodded, said "It'll be put to good use," and that was that.
The deposition ends with the usual warnings about ongoing testimony, maintaining security, and the importance of her continued cooperation. Vivianne closes the laptop and slumps in her chair.
"How many more times?"
"As many as it takes." I pull her up into my arms. "Your testimony is destroying them. Your father, Prescott, and the entire network. You're giving those families justice after seventy years."
"I know. It's just—" She presses her face into my chest. "I want it to be over. I want to stop being Vivianne Faulks, star witness. I want to just be... us."
"Soon." I press a kiss to her hair. "The trials are moving fast. Your father's assets are frozen. Prescott's family is abandoning him to save themselves. Six months, maybe less, and we can disappear completely."
She pulls back, looks up at me with those extraordinary eyes. "Where would we go?"
"Anywhere you want. New Zealand. Japan. Argentina. Somewhere no one knows our names."
"What about your chalet? I liked it there."
"Then we stay there."
She kisses me again, different this time. Hungrier. Her hands slide under my paint-stained t-shirt, nails dragging lightly across my skin.
"Vivianne—"
"Shh." She pushes me backward toward the bedroom. "Less talking. More forgetting."
