Victoria’s smirk slipped for just a fraction of a second before she caught it and rebuilt it into her softest, most delighted face.

“Harrison?” She said it like a caress. “Darling, what are you doing here? I told you I had a small family thing to handle, you didn’t need to—”

He didn’t look at her. He walked past her as though she weren’t standing there at all, and stopped beside me, and held out the folder.

I watched it happen on Victoria’s face — the exact moment the ground began to move under her.

For a decade she had defined herself by her power over people like Harrison Reed, by her certainty that she could read any room and bend it.

And here was the man she’d spent ten years pursuing, walking the length of a hospital corridor to stand at the side of the sister she’d spent twelve years destroying, and he had not so much as glanced at her.