And I follow, carrying three words I can't say and watching her be exactly who she is.
They arrive like a wave.
Four women in sundresses and sandals, talking over each other, energy crackling. Barbie leads—sharp, composed, already scanning the setup. Sloane and Merritt flank her. Katelyn trails with shopping bags and nervous eyes.
"Oh my gosh," Katelyn breathes, taking in the terrace. The flowers, the china, the glinting champagne flutes, the spread. "You did all this?"
Jane shrugs. "It's just brunch."
"It's not just brunch," Merritt says quietly. There's something in her voice—gratitude layered with disbelief that someone cared enough.
I stay back. Let Jane have this.
But I'm watching. Can't stop.
"Before we sit," Jane says, reaching for the USB drives on the side table. Professional Jane. Spine straight, voice steady, movements precise.
"Everything's here." She hands Barbie a labeled drive. "Raw footage, timestamped to the minute. Highlight reels with key moments clipped and zoomed. Printed stills for quick reference." She pulls up her phone. "Cloud backup with password protection. Active for thirty days. The audio from both my recordings and West's phone are crystal clear on these files. Every word. Every laugh. Everything Natalieneeds to hear."
Sloane lets out a low whistle.
"When do we tell her?" Merritt asks.
Jane pauses. Careful. "That's your call. But if it were me? Soon."
Merritt's voice drops. "She'll be devastated."
Jane meets her eyes. Gentle but unflinching. "She will. But she'll also be saved from marrying someone who doesn't respect her. That's worth the devastation."
Barbie nods once. "Then it's ours now."
Jane holds her gaze. "It's yours. You decide when and how. I've done my part."
"And if something goes sideways?"
"You call me. Anytime. Day or night."
The transfer settles between them—quiet, final. Hours of planning, careful positioning, danger. All of it passing from Jane's hands to theirs.
She's calm. Like she's navigated handoffs like this a hundred times.
But I see the relief in her shoulders. The way she exhales.
She just changed Natalie's life. And she knows it.
"Okay." Jane's voice lightens. "Enough business. Let’s sit, eat and celebrate."
They settle around the table. Jane presents the lobster with the kind of measured pride she usually hides under deflection.
“What is this?” Sloane asks, examining the plate before tasting.
“A little Boston inspiration with the Caribbean lobsters in paradise,” Jane replies.
Merritt takes a bite first. Calm. Analytical.
Her expression shifts almost immediately.
“Oh.”
