"He wanted you to have a piece of him," he says finally. "Whatever happened."
Not comfort. Just truth.
I close my fingers around the metal.
It survived.
He didn't.
Mother's townhouselooks like a museum dedicated to emotional unavailability.
Five stories of white stone, Upper East Side perfection. I've hated this place since I was six and realized other people's mothers actually smiled.
Sergei stops at the door.
"I'll be outside. You need me, I'm here."
"You're not coming in?"
"This is family business." His eyes scan the street, the windows, the shadows. Always watching. "I'll handle the perimeter."
Handle the perimeter.Like we're at war.
Maybe we are.
Charles opens the door before I can knock. The butler's been with the family longer than I've been alive, and right now, he looks like someone carved grief directly into his face.
"Miss Isabelle." His voice fractures. "I'm so terribly sorry."
I can't speak. If I open my mouth, I'll start screaming.
Mother's in the drawing room. Perched on the ivory settee, like a perfectly preserved specimen—ash-blonde hair lacquered into submission, makeup flawless, wearing black Chanel, like she's got a photo shoot scheduled withVogue: Widows Edition.
"Isabelle." She doesn't stand. "You look a mess."
I glance down. Wrinkled black dress, bare feet, mascara probably smeared halfway to my ears. "Dad's dead."
"Don't be dramatic." She pours tea from the silver service with the kind of steady hand that comes from decades of practice not giving a shit. "Hysterics won't bring him back."
My fingernails bite crescents into my palms. "What. Happened."
"Gas leak. The investigation is ongoing, but these things happen." Delicate sip. Pinky raised. "The service is Friday. Laurent's, naturally."
"Naturally."
Only the best funeral home for Manhattan's elite corpses.
"Your uncle Matthew has been tremendously helpful with the estate matters." She sets down her cup with a softclinkthat sounds like a gunshot. "Such a comfort to have family we can trust."
Trust.She says it like the word doesn't have teeth.
"Dad had the boat serviced two weeks ago." My voice sounds far away. "Every system checked."
"Accidents happen, darling, even to people with money."
But her eyes flicker.
Just for a second.
