Manchester. Elara's Kitchen.
Talia felt like she was floating.
She and Elara had just come back from The Midland, buzzing from the sugar high. Talia felt... light for the first time. She still wore her silk blouse but had kicked off her shoes, curling her feet under her on one of Elara's cozy kitchen chairs.
The guilt vanished, replaced by an odd calm. The world hadn't ended. Her mother and sister were fine. She had... survived.
"See?" Elara said as she put the kettle on, her face flushed with the joy of a successful outing. "A few tiny sandwiches, and everything seems brighter. You, my girl, are officially on the mend. Nine more days of this, and you'll be a new—"
A loud, old-fashioned brrrring-brrrring echoed through the air.
It was the landline. The heavy, cream-colored phone on the kitchen wall.
Talia's heart didn't just stop; it dropped.
Her newfound calm disappeared, replaced by ice-cold adrenaline. No one called the landline unless there was an emergency. Her mother. Maya.
"Oh, God," Talia whispered, instinctively putting her hand to her throat. She was already halfway out of her chair. "It's... it's the shop. Something's happened. The landlord... the bank..."
"Stop it," Elara said, raising her hand. She looked annoyed, not worried. "You are a guest. I will handle this."
She picked up the receiver and tucked it between her ear and shoulder while reaching for the teabags. "Solomon & Daughters, Northern Command, Elara speaking..."
Talia watched her aunt's face, her heart racing. She was holding her breath.
Elara's playful, serious expression suddenly shifted.
"Sarah? Darling, what... what's wrong? You're... you're crying?"
Talia's vision narrowed. Crying. This was bad. She had to go home. She had to fix it. She reached for the phone, but Elara waved her off, her eyes wide.
"No... no... slow down," Elara said, sounding shocked. "A man... a suit... wait, 'The Culinary Guild'? Sarah, that's... that's... Double? Are you... double? ... A signing bonus? ... 'Mr. Arie'?"
The words sounded like nonsense. Talia stared, her panic blending with dizzying confusion.
Elara stayed silent for a minute, just listening, her jaw slack. She slowly sank onto a stool, gripping the counter with one hand. "My God," she whispered. "My... God... Yes... yes, of course... She's... she's right here."
Elara looked up at Talia, her eyes wide and dazed.
"Talia," she said, her voice high-pitched. "You... you must... you must talk to your mother. It seems... you are no longer a refugee. You are... I think you are an heiress."
She handed the phone to Talia.
Talia's hand trembled so much she almost dropped it. "Mom?" she breathed, her voice shaky. "Mom, what's... what's going on? Is the shop okay?"
"Okay?" Sarah Solomon's voice was not the stoic, sad tone of the last three years. It was high-pitched and ecstatic. "Oh, Tali! Tali, honey, it's... we're... we're SAFE!"
Talia's knees buckled. She grabbed the back of the chair to steady herself. "What... what do you mean, safe?"
"A man, Tali! A man in a suit... from 'The Culinary Guild'! A Mr. Arie... he... Tali, he gave us a new contract! He said... he said he heard Élan had made a 'catastrophic error' and that... that he wanted us. Exclusively!"
"A new... contract?"
"A miracle, Talia!" Sarah was now openly crying, laughing through the tears. "He... he's paying double, Tali! Double! And... and he's paying the first quarter... in advance! As a signing bonus! The check... Tali, the check... it's... it's... it's enough. Enough for everything. For the lease. For the suppliers. For... for Maya's tuition. For... for all of it. We're... we're saved. Oh, my baby, we're saved..."
Talia slid down the wall until she was sitting on the cold kitchen tiles, the phone pressed to her ear.
The words didn't make sense. Double. Advance. Saved.
The weight that had been pressing down on her chest for three years, her constant, suffocating companion... it didn't just lift. It vanished.
It was simply gone.
"Mom..." she whispered, and a sound she didn't recognize escaped her throat. It was a sob, but it felt... light. "Mom, are you... are you sure? Is it real?"
"It's real! Our lawyer already called his. It's real! Oh, Tali... your father... he would be so proud..."
Talia didn't even realize she was crying until Elara knelt in front of her, pressing a tea towel into her hands. She was laughing, sobbing, and completely incoherent.
She was free.
"Who... who is he?" Talia finally asked, wiping her nose. "This... 'Mr. Arie'?"
"A miracle, Tali. A guardian angel in a suit. He... he just... he saved us."
Jadon
The line was dark. Ari had hung up.
Jadon sat in his Manchester penthouse, motionless in his chair. The file on "Talia Solomon" remained open on his screen.
His "Asher" phone buzzed on the desk. A single, encrypted text from Ari.
The eagle has landed. Contract delivered. 'Mr. Arie' was a success. They... were receptive. Wire transfer for the advance is en route.
Jadon read the text and looked at the photo on his screen—a grainy, candid shot Kael had pulled from a local London paper, showing Talia at a farmer's market, laughing while holding a bundle of spices. It was the only photo that existed.
He had done it.
He had fixed it.
He had, as a ghost, sent a "guardian angel" to save the woman he had, as a ghost, nearly destroyed. He had balanced the scales. He had atoned.
He should have felt... something. Relief. Satisfaction. Power.
He felt nothing.
He had "saved" her, yes. But he had created a new, beautiful, and infinitely more dangerous lie. He had built a wall of deceit between them, so perfect that she would never see the man inside.
He had given her a miracle. But he had also made it impossible for her to ever... forgive him.
He gazed at her laughing face on the screen. He had just, officially, become the unforgivable villain.