By the time I return to the Mariano Mansion, the sky has begun its slow descent into dusk.
The gates open silently, the house recognizing me before anyone else does. Home doesn't greet me with warmth—it greets me with certainty. The kind that doesn't ask questions.
Percy is waiting.
Of course he is.
He's stretched across the living room couch like it belongs to him personally, one arm flung dramatically over his eyes, the other clutching his phone.
"Babyyy Sistahh," he says without moving.
"If this is about dinner being late, I would like to state for the record that I am a victim."
"I just walked in," I reply.
"Exactly. Late."
I take off my heels and place them neatly by the door. "You'll survive."
He peeks at me. "Wow. Cold. Did someone try to assassinate you today or is this just your natural charm?"
"Both," I say calmly.
He sits up immediately. "Okay but like—actually?"
"No."
"Shame," he sighs. "I was ready to be heroic."
Despite myself, something in my chest loosens. Percy has always had that effect—loud, ridiculous, impossible to ignore. He doesn't fix things.
He makes them lighter.
At dinner, the house settles into its familiar rhythm. Papa Jaspher speaks little. Mama Reycee listens to everything. Percy fills the silence with commentary no one asked for.
"So," Percy says, stabbing his fork into something expensive, "big mysterious birthday coming up."
I don't look at him. "It's just a gala."
He snorts. "Right. And I'm 'just handsome.'"
Reycee's gaze flicks to me. Sharp. Knowing.
"Next week," she says softly. "Twenty-two."
"May 29th," Percy adds. "In case anyone forgot the most important date of the year."
"No one forgot," Jaspher says quietly.
Dinner ends without ceremony.
-------------------------------------------------------
My balcony is quiet.
New York stretches beneath me—lights flickering, alive, unaware of the decisions being made above it. The air is cool against my skin as I lean against the railing, fingers wrapped around a glass I haven't touched.
Seven days.
Seven days until the gala.
Seven days until anonymity ends.
I imagine the room—the chandeliers, the hush, the moment when eyes will finally find me. Allies recalculating. Enemies reassessing. Masks cracking just enough to show truth.
Kaizer Watson will be watching.
Everyone will be.
I should feel nervous.
I don't.
What I feel instead is… heavy.
Not with fear.
With memory.
My thoughts drift where I don't invite them.
HVIS.Section-E.
The way the classroom always smelled faintly of dust and rain. The way Keifer used to tilt his chair back just to annoy teachers. His quiet laugh when I corrected him. Notes passed when we should've been paying attention.
You and me, he'd said once. Against everything.
I close my eyes.
That version of us exists somewhere still. Untouched by silence. Untouched by betrayal. Frozen in time like a photograph no one looks at anymore.
I don't miss him.
I miss who I was when I believed.
The balcony doors slide shut behind me automatically when the air grows colder. Inside, the lights dim as I walk through the room, the mansion settling into night mode.
In bed, I stare at the ceiling for a long moment.
I think of laughter.Of Section-E.Of hands once held without fear.
Sleep eventually claims me—not gently, but honestly.
And somewhere across the city, in another empire built on ghosts and steel, a man I once loved breathes under the same sky.
Tomorrow—
The world keeps moving.