“No comment.”
Another started to press. “There’s acute public interest in who might be joining you in London. Will you?—”
“This press conference is about King Global Capital,” he said. “I would be happy to take questions directly related to that.”
The room understood. They would lose him if they didn’t keep in line. After about twenty minutes of back-and-forth, the time was called.
“Thank you for your attention.”
A soft rustle of camera shutters. The screen returned to the anchor desk.
“A clean showing from Gage King,” the anchor said. “Clear vision, zero distraction. The market approves.”
Bea pulled out one AirPod and stared at the phone screen, now frozen on his face.
And it struck her, quietly but completely: he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t. Not even if she didn’t go with him. Not because he didn’t love her, but because this future—his future—was already in motion.
And it didn’t need her to work.
3:22 p.m.
Bea sat on the library lawn with Lillian, a couple of half-eaten pastries between them. The grass was warm beneath her, the air lazy with late sun.
Her phone was face down beside her knee. She hadn’t checked it in over an hour.
Bea had never been so grateful for the privacy of St. Ives. And for the Republic, where press boundaries weren’t a guideline; they were gospel. Somehow, not a single photo of her had ever made it into circulation.
She didn’t know how. She just knew it helped.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you about it,” Bea said, guilt choking her. “The apartment and everything.”
“It’s okay,” Lillian said. “I’ll be fine. I’d rather live with you for a week than not at all.”
Bea’s throat tightened. “You’re a better friend than I deserve, Lils.”
Lillian accepted Bea’s hug.
“So. London. Is that why you visited?”
Bea nodded.
“It puts a whole new spin on everything,” she said. “Almost like…we should have that conversation all over again.”
Bea let out a breath, but it wasn’t a laugh. More like a release. “Sure, why not?”
Lillian stayed quiet for a moment. Then she asked, “How did it feel?”
Bea picked at the edge of the pastry paper. “Like a city I was supposed to be impressed by. And I was. It’s beautiful. Powerful. Controlled. Everything Gage is.”
“What did Gage say?”
“That it could be home.”
“And can it?”
Bea stared out across the lawn. She thought back. Tried to sift through her memories and emotions in light of all the months in between.
“I don’t know. Maybe? I think I kept waiting for something to click. Like I’d see a sign, or feel it in my bones. But it didn’t come.” A breeze stirred the corner of her skirt. “I didn’t hate it. I just didn’t feel like I…belonged to it.”
