Aria's point of view
I set the boundaries first, before I agreed to anything. Supervised only with me present at all times. No alone time with Emma, not yet, perhaps not for a long time. An hour, maximum. And Eleanor arrived exactly when I said to arrive, which was the first surprise, and she wore no jewelry, which was the second — Eleanor Monroe, who had worn her pearls to the grocery store, who had treated jewelry as social armor, who had never once in my memory presented herself as anything less than impeccably assembled. She stood at the penthouse entrance in a simple grey dress and looked older than I remembered and somehow, for the first time in my life, small.
"Thank you," Eleanor said. "For agreeing to this."
"Come in," I said.
