Naomi found Riven alone without making it obvious.
The event was thinning out — the kind of polite unraveling that happened after people had been seen enough to leave without consequence. Riven stood near the corridor that led to the restrooms, phone in hand, gaze unfocused. He looked like someone waiting for permission to breathe.
Naomi watched him before approaching.
Not because she hesitated.
Because she wanted to understand the shape of his stillness.
When Riven finally noticed her, his reaction was immediate — a sharp intake of breath, shoulders tightening, eyes flicking briefly over her shoulder toward the ballroom.
She stopped a step away.
"Hi," Naomi said.
Riven nodded. "Hi."
"You don't need to look for him," she added calmly. "Lucien isn't coming over."
Riven stiffened.
Naomi clocked it and didn't comment.
"May I?" She gestured lightly to the wall beside him.
Riven hesitated, then shrugged. "It's a hallway."
Naomi smiled faintly and leaned against the wall, posture relaxed, unthreatening. She didn't block him in. Didn't crowd his space.
"You thought I was Lucien's partner," Naomi said.
Riven's head snapped up. "I didn't—"
She lifted a hand. "You don't need to explain. I could see it."
Riven's jaw clenched. "I didn't say anything."
"No," Naomi agreed. "You didn't."
That silence lingered between them.
Naomi studied him openly now — the sharp mouth, the restless hands, the tension that lived permanently in his shoulders.
"You're younger than I expected," she said.
Riven scoffed. "Everyone says that."
"I imagine they do," Naomi replied. "And I imagine you hate it."
Riven didn't answer.
"You weren't jealous because you thought I was beautiful," Naomi continued. "You were jealous because you thought I was safe."
Riven laughed, brittle. "You don't know anything about me."
Naomi tilted her head. "Then tell me why it mattered."
Riven looked away. "It didn't."
Naomi didn't argue.
She waited.
"...I don't like being replaced," Riven muttered.
Naomi's voice softened. "By who?"
Riven exhaled sharply. "By anyone."
Naomi nodded once. Then said gently, "I'm not his lover."
Riven froze.
"What?"
"I'm his adopted sister," Naomi clarified. "We grew up in the same house. We survived the same messes. That's all."
The color drained from Riven's face.
"Oh," he whispered.
Naomi watched the realization settle — embarrassment, recalculation, the slow ache of jealousy redirected inward.
"And before you apologize," Naomi added, "don't."
Riven frowned. "Why?"
"Because misunderstanding me isn't the problem," she said. "It's what you were protecting yourself from."
Riven crossed his arms. "You're reading too much into this."
"Maybe," Naomi agreed. "But you looked at me like someone who'd already lost."
Riven's throat worked.
"You don't want Lucien," Naomi continued quietly. "You want what he represents — distance without punishment. Silence without consequence."
Riven laughed softly. "You make it sound pathetic."
"No," Naomi said immediately. "I make it sound learned."
That landed.
Riven's voice dropped. "You don't know my relationship."
Naomi nodded. "You're right."
Then she said, "But I know restraint."
Riven's eyes flicked up.
"I know what it looks like when someone stops interrupting," Naomi continued. "When they start adjusting before they're asked. When compliance becomes reflex."
Riven shook his head. "You're wrong."
But his hands were shaking.
"You think I'm weak," he said.
Naomi stepped closer — just enough to lower her voice.
"No," she said firmly. "I think you're adapting. And adaptation is how people disappear slowly."
Riven swallowed. "Then what do you want from me?"
Naomi studied him for a long moment.
"I want you to know Lucien isn't silent because he's ashamed of you."
Riven flinched.
"He's silent because he believes stepping in would make things worse," Naomi said. "Because men like him mistake restraint for morality."
Riven laughed — sharp, bitter. "Of course he does."
Naomi frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means he'll wait until it's too late," Riven snapped. "They always do."
Naomi absorbed that quietly.
"And the man you're with," Naomi said carefully, "relies on that waiting."
Riven's voice dropped to a whisper. "You think he's using me."
Naomi didn't answer directly.
Instead, she asked, "When was the last time you said no without explaining yourself?"
Riven stared at the floor.
"When was the last time you changed your mind and didn't feel guilty for it?"
Silence.
Naomi nodded.
"I'm not here to tell you to leave," she said. "I'm here to tell you that if you stay, do it knowing this won't soften."
Riven looked up, eyes burning. "And Lucien?"
Naomi hesitated.
Then said, "Lucien does not save people."
Riven's face fell.
"He ends things," Naomi continued. "And when he does, nothing goes back to how it was."
Riven whispered, "Then why warn me?"
Naomi met his gaze steadily. "Because when it ends badly, I don't want you to believe no one saw it coming."
She handed him a card.
"I won't interfere again unless you ask," she said. "But if you ever need someone to say this is not normal without wanting anything from you—"
She stepped back.
"Take care of yourself, Riven," Naomi said quietly. "And stop mistaking survival for choice."
She turned and walked away.
Riven stood frozen, heart pounding.
For the first time, the silence around him didn't feel protective.
It felt exposed.
And across the room, Lucien Crowe watched his sister leave Riven's side—
Knowing something irreversible had been named.
Not aloud.
But clearly enough to draw blood later.