A quiet gesture.
An old habit transformed.
“Colin sent a letter last week,” Graham said, casual as if discussing the weather.
Eleanor’s brows rose. “Did he?”
Graham’s mouth curved. “He invited us to dinner. Something about a christening and a wager.”
Eleanor relaxed, amused. “That sounds like him.”
Graham’s thumb traced the edge of her ring, the tiny blue stone catching sunlight.
“He also included an assignment,” he added. “As a joke. I think.”
“And?”
“I burned it,” Graham said simply.
Eleanor stilled—not in alarm, but in startled tenderness.
“You burned it,” she repeated.
“I did,” he said, meeting her eyes. “Because I knew you would solve it. And because I didn’t want you to have to choose again.”
Eleanor’s throat tightened.
“And if I had wanted to?” she asked softly.
Graham’s expression held steady. “Then you would have told me. We would have decided together. That’s what you demanded, and it’s what I learned to give.”
Eleanor leaned forward and pressed her lips to his knuckles. “Partner,” she whispered.
“Always,” Graham murmured.
From the next room came Amelia’s voice, very serious.
“Bramble,” she said, “if you eat the flowers, you will be in trouble.”
Eleanor’s laugh escaped.
Graham’s mouth curved.
They sat, hands linked, listening to their daughter negotiate with a dog.
The world outside was still London—still loud, still flawed, still full of men who believed paper could make them powerful.
But here, in this small mews house washed with morning light, Eleanor felt something she had never expected to feel.
Safe.
Eleanor rose and crossed to the desk. She opened the catalogue with careful hands.
On the last page, where ink had once left a blank, she had written a private entry years ago.
C2 was no longer a code for danger. It was a private victory.
C2 | Sinclair | “A Life Unthreatened” | — | Kept
