The drive back to Hartwell was quiet. I held the ledger tightly in my lap, afraid it might slip away if I relaxed my grip. Sebastian drove carefully. His knuckles were white on the wheel, his face was calm. I wanted to ask if he was regretting his decision to join me, but the words got stuck in my throat after what we had just seen.
Julian, my cousin, was on the phone whispering plans. "If she shows, we'll be ready." That phrase repeated in my mind, making me uneasy. Ready for what? A family meeting? Or something more dangerous, like the crossed-out names in the second ledger?
"You look like you're trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces," Sebastian finally said, his voice breaking the silence. He didn't look at me, but I could feel his attention.
"Because I am," I said, sharper than I meant to. "My cousin is being a double agent, And you're the sidekick with a favor that comes with strings?"
He chuckled softly. "Sidekick means I'm following you, Miss Hartwell. If anything, I'm keeping you from talking too much." Then he added quietly, "The favor isn't a secret. It's a debt—one your father paid for when mine couldn't. Rosegate was just the start. He helped untangle things I didn't know."
I turned to him, the dashboard light illuminating his face—jaw tight, eyes shadowed. For the first time, he looked human. "So tell me about the debt," I urged, lowering my voice to match the engine's hum. "No more avoiding the subject. If we're in this together, I need to know what to expect tomorrow."
Sebastian's grip on the wheel tightened for a moment, then he sighed. "Your father didn't just donate money. He built connections. Rosegate was central to that—quiet deals and hidden alliances. My family got caught in a bad deal years ago with some dirty investors. He stepped in and redirected funds through a fake name. He saved us. In return, he wanted me here—not as a servant, but to watch out for you. To ensure you don't get snagged on your way back."
"Snagged?" I echoed, a bitter laugh escaping. "Is that how he sees me? A loose thread? And what about Julian—does he know this? Is he one of those dirty investors?"
"I don't know," he said honestly. "But those crossed out names in the ledger match people your father cut off. Julian's foundation, the one from the luncheon, is linked to a few of them. If he's making decisions at Rosegate, he's not just fixing your image. He's protecting himself."
The estate appeared ahead, its gates wide open. We drove into the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires. I saw something move in the rearview mirror, maybe a shadow between the hedges or just the wind. Sebastian turned off the engine, and the silence highlighted my racing heartbeat.
"Inside," he whispered, already getting out. "And lock your door tonight. No more nighttime adventures."
I followed him up the steps, the ledger under my arm. The front hall welcomed us with its usual polished scent, but tonight it felt off—too quiet. The chandelier light made sharp patterns. Mrs. Dalloway's area was silent. Only the quiet ticking of a clock filled the space, counting down to whatever "tomorrow night" would bring.
We parted at the stairs—him heading to east wing, me going to the west wing. As I reached my door, I saw a slip of paper stuck under the frame, white against the dark wood. My breath caught. I snatched it up, unfolding it with shaky fingers.
Two words were written in ink that blurred at the edges. "Don't come."
No signature, no crest. Just a warning that smelled faintly of smoke—the same smell I recognized from Rosegate and Hartwell's. I crumpled the note in my hand, adrenaline rushing from me. Was it Julian? Or someone higher up in the family, cutting off branches before they could grow too wild?
Sleep was impossible. Instead, I paced the dressing room, the ledger open on the vanity. RG—Arrival—7/14—21:00. Tonight. Nine o'clock. The "Stop" note from before laughed at me from the page, but this new warning felt harsher. I traced the letters with my finger, lost in thought. The dates and initials created a picture of favors and conflicts. Rosegate was more than just a location. If Julian was gathering support, I needed more than just my quick thinking to win this time.
By dawn, I had a solid plan. I would go—we would go—but not without preparation. I quickly texted my publicist contact, who owed me for a previous favor, and learned that Julian's foundation was hosting a "private gala" at Rosegate tonight. It was an invitation only event, so we would have to be careful.
The morning was a struggle to keep things normal. Julian entered without his clipboard for once, smiling and chatting about "image metrics." However, he couldn't meet my eyes. He nervously fiddled with his toast. "Big night ahead," he said too casually. "Charity event. You should come—great for networking."
I sipped my Earl Grey while Sebastian poured behind me, as steady as ever. "Wouldn't miss it," I replied, mixing sweetness with firmness. "Family first, right?"
Julian paused, fork in mid-air. "Right."
Sebastian caught my eye across the table, looking pleased. No smirks today, just teamwork.
As the day progressed, Hartwell buzzed with preparations. clean linens and polished silver, but there was an underlying tension. A gardener mentioned "trespassers in the east woods" from the previous night. Mrs. Dalloway shot me a look that said "I know you're up to something." And twice, I swore I could smell smoke coming from the vents.
By evening, I stood before the mirror. It was modest enough to show regret but sharp enough for confrontation. The ledger was tucked in my clutch, along with the crumpled warning. Sebastian waited in the hall, looking sharp in his black tie. He offered his arm, which felt like an alliance rather than a duty.
"Ready to crash the party?" he asked quietly.
I took his arm, and its warmth steadied my nerves. "Born ready. But if Julian tries to surprise us again—"
"—I'll handle the shadows," he replied with a hint of a smile. "You handle the truths."
We stepped outside, the car coming to life like a partner in our plan. Rosegate awaited us with its gates wide open under a dark sky. Lanterns lit the drive, making our caution feel unnecessary. As we drove up the hill, I noticed the cars lining the gravel and people slipping through the ivy.
At the entrance stood a figure, half hidden by the light. It wasn't Julian. This man was taller and broader—the one from the luncheon. He turned as our headlights shone on him, and for a moment, his face showed not welcome.
The kind that signaled "We've been expecting you."
I tightened my grip on Sebastian's hand, feeling the weight of the ledger in my lap. Whatever game was ahead, the stage was set. And tonight, I planned to win.