Chapter 8

After Ciara hung up, she stared at the trending photo on her screen, comparing it again and again with the suit Sean had been wearing.

She zoomed in, trying to find any difference. The size of the lapel, the style of the cufflinks, even the faint crease along the sleeve.

Identical.

She told herself, "Sean likes this brand. It's completely normal for him to have the same piece."

But her hands were shaking.

At some point Neil had walked over to her side. "Ciara, you don't look well. Did something happen at the company?"

"No." Ciara pulled her eyes away. "Something's come up. I need to head back for a bit."

Neil blinked. "Now? You said you'd spend three days with me."

"Something urgent," Ciara said, in a tone that left no room for argument. "I'll have my assistant stay with you. Buy whatever you want."

Neil bit his lip, his eyes reddening. "You're going back to see him, aren't you?"

Ciara didn't answer. She turned and walked out.

She booked the earliest flight back from Havenport without telling Sean.

When she landed, she went straight to Sean's office.

The receptionist saw her and paused, startled. "Ms. Hayes? Are you here to see Mr. Shaw? He didn't come in today."

"Didn't come in?" Ciara frowned. "He took the day off?"

The cloud of doubt in her chest kept growing, pressing down until she could barely breathe.

A suspicion slithered into her mind like a snake and slowly tightened.

No.

Sean wouldn't.

They had known each other for over twenty years. She knew better than anyone what kind of man he was.

The details kept forcing their way in: the hickey on Sean's collarbone at the launch, the look between him and Vivian at the reception, and how he came home less, always claiming work.

And on that video call, Sean had kept the camera only on his face, as if he was deliberately hiding something.

Meanwhile, it was in Larkhaven.

By the time Vivian and I arrived from Rosevale, it was already evening.

The city was as quiet as an ink painting, the air carrying the faint scent of grass and trees.

Vivian had booked a secluded machiya hotel, tucked deep in an unremarkable alley. Push open the door and you would step into a delicate Japanese garden, moss covering the stone lanterns, the soft sound of water trickling through slender bamboo.

"You do know how to pick a place," I said, standing in the corridor, looking at the maple leaves in the courtyard, and drawing in a slow, deep breath.

"Of course," Vivian said behind me, her tone lazy. "If I'm going away with you, I'm not going to settle for less."

I didn't answer, just turned and went into the room.

The machiya kept its traditional Japanese style, tatami on the floor, the soft dusk light filtering through the paper screens.

I changed into something comfortable and sat cross-legged by the window. For the first time in a long while, the tension in me really did ease a little.

Dinner was reserved at a Michelin kaiseki place nearby. The dishes came out one by one, each plated like a piece of art.

For once I let myself relax, drank a fair amount of sake, and felt the flush rise in my cheeks.

"Don't drink too much," Vivian said from across the table, propping her chin on her hand as she watched me.

"It's not often I get out like this. Can't I have a few more?" I poured myself another cup and tipped it back.

The sake was sweet going down, but it hit hard afterward.

I was already a little tipsy.

Vivian watched me and then said, "You know, when you smile, that's the only time there's any light in your eyes."

I froze, my cup halfway to my lips.

I looked up at her. She was watching me seriously, without her usual lazy air, something in her eyes I couldn't quite read.

"And the rest of the time?" I asked, my voice lower than I meant it to be.

Vivian thought about it for a moment, then said slowly, "The rest of the time, you smile too. But it's the kind of smile that looks like a mask."

I was quiet for a while, then turned my face away, looking out the window.

The lights in the garden threw dappled bamboo shadows, and the evening wind rustled through the leaves.

"Sometimes I forget," I said quietly, "what I look like without the mask."

Vivian didn't answer, just watched me quietly.

After a long moment, she said, "Then take your time. There's no rush."

I turned my head, met her eyes, and something I couldn't name rose in my chest.

This woman had only known me for a few months, and she could see straight through me.

But the one who had known me for over twenty years didn't even know I'd changed the password on my phone.

I picked up my cup and drained it in one go.

I said, "Another one."

When Ciara came out of the office building, she saw Vivian's van parked at the curb.

She was about to walk over when the door opened.

The one who stepped out wasn't Vivian, but her assistant.

The assistant was carrying an insulated bag and said to the security guard nearby, "Ms. Grant is on vacation for a few days. All her work's been pushed back. I'll leave these things with you for now, and she'll pick them up when she's back."

Ciara clenched her fists, her knuckles white. 'Vivian was on vacation, and Sean had taken the day off. Could that really be a coincidence?'