"Say that again," Caro said quietly, once Peter had ended the call.
The study felt different now than it had only minutes ago, the argument that had filled it replaced by something quieter, more uncertain. Outside, the car that would take them to the estate was already waiting, but neither of them had moved toward the door yet.
"The housekeeper says a woman arrived at the estate two hours ago," Peter said, his voice carefully controlled, the way it always was when he was holding something back. "She didn't give a name. But she asked the housekeeper one question before she left again."
"What question?"
Peter's eyes met hers. "She asked whether the boy who used to read in the east library had ever come back for his books."
Caro's breath caught. "The library. Your library. The one I found."
"No one outside this family has ever known about that room," Peter said quietly. "Not even Isabella, as far as I know. Lena and I were the only two people who ever called it that. The east library. Everyone else just called it the old wing."
"Then it really was her," Caro whispered. "She came to the estate. Today. Looking for you."
"And then left again, before anyone could stop her." Peter's jaw tightened. "Which means she's still being watched closely enough that she couldn't risk staying. But she's also close enough to reach the estate without being caught entirely." He exhaled slowly. "We were planning to go tomorrow. I think we need to go tonight."
"Then let's go," Caro said immediately, already reaching for her coat.
"Caro." Peter's hand caught hers, gently, stopping her. "Before we do this. Before everything changes again." He hesitated, something unfamiliar in his expression. Uncertainty. "I need to say something, and I'm not sure I'll have the chance to say it once we're in that house."
Caro went still. The air between them shifted, the same way it had once before, weeks ago, in her bedroom, when he had told her she mattered and then immediately took it back. She remembered exactly how that had felt, the warmth and the withdrawal in the same breath, and some part of her braced for it to happen again now.
"Say it," she said softly.
"That night, in your room," Peter said, his voice rougher now. "When I told you that you mattered, but only if you performed your role correctly. I have thought about that conversation more than I would like to admit." His eyes searched hers. "I said it because I was afraid of what it would mean if I said the first half without the second. I have spent eleven years making sure nothing mattered enough to be used against me."
"And now?" Caro asked, her heart beginning to pound.
"And now I am about to walk into the one place in the world where everything I have ever tried to protect can be used against me," Peter said. "And the only thing I can think about is making sure you know, before we walk through that door, that the first half of that sentence was always true. You matter. Without conditions. I should have said it that way from the beginning."
Caro's breath caught, the weight of his words settling somewhere deep in her chest.
"Peter," she said quietly, "that night, you asked if I understood the difference between curiosity and falling." Her voice was unsteady now, but she did not look away. "I told you I kept going, even if it was dangerous. I think I already knew, even then, that I wasn't just talking about the library."
Something shifted in Peter's expression, the same recalibration she had seen so many times now, except this time there was nothing guarded behind it.
"I know," he said softly. "I think I knew too. I just didn't have a word for it yet that didn't feel like a liability."
"And now?"
"Now," Peter said, his hand lifting slowly to her face, the same way it had once before, except this time he did not hesitate, "I think I have stopped caring whether it's a liability."
Caro's eyes closed briefly at the touch, the same way they had that night, except this time neither of them pulled back.
"If we do this," she whispered, "if this becomes real, tonight, before we walk into that house, everything Isabella and the Voss family already suspect about us becomes true. There's no more pretending this is just the contract."
"I know," Peter said.
"And once we're in that house," Caro continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "they'll see it. Whatever this is. They'll use it."
"I know that too," Peter said. His thumb traced gently along her cheek, the same gesture from before, except slower now, more certain. "I have spent eleven years deciding that nothing could matter enough to be used against me." His voice dropped further. "Tonight, I would rather walk into that house with something worth protecting than walk in with nothing left to lose."
Caro's breath caught at the words, and this time, when Peter leaned closer, neither of them stopped.
Their lips met gently at first, hesitant, as though both of them were still half expecting something to interrupt it the way something had interrupted them before. When nothing did, the kiss deepened, Caro's hand finding the front of his jacket the way it had at the gala, except this time it was not for the cameras, and there was no flash to catch it, no audience to perform for, just the two of them and the quiet hum of the city outside the glass.
For a long moment, the world outside that office, the Voss family, Isabella, the estate waiting in the dark, all of it seemed to recede.
Then Peter's phone buzzed again.
He pulled back slowly, his forehead resting briefly against hers, both of them breathing unevenly.
"That's probably the car," he said quietly. "Ready to leave."
"Probably," Caro agreed, though neither of them moved yet.
Finally, Peter straightened, his expression settling back into something more composed, though his eyes had not lost the warmth that had been building all evening.
"Whatever happens tonight," he said, "whatever we find at that estate. I need you to know that this," he gestured slightly between them, "this is not part of any plan. This is not a strategy. I want you to understand that clearly, before we walk through that door."
"I understand," Caro said softly.
He held out his hand, and this time, when she took it, neither of them let go as they walked toward the door.
Caro's phone buzzed once more as they reached the car. She glanced down, expecting the driver's confirmation.
Instead, it was a single new message, from the same unknown number that had reached out before.
Don't come tonight. They know you're coming. They've been waiting for exactly this moment for eleven years, and they've already decided what happens when you walk through that door.
Caro's stomach dropped. She turned the phone toward Peter, her hand no longer steady.
"Peter," she said quietly. "I think we need to talk about this before we get in the car."