Arianne’s desk had disappeared under the reports.

The year-end summaries had multiplied over the past week, breeding in the dark hours when she wasn’t looking. Quarterly assessments. Investor updates. Board meeting minutes. Her laptop was open to a spreadsheet she’d been staring at for twenty minutes, and her coffee had gone cold an hour ago.

Outside her office, Rochefort Group hummed with the particular energy of December. The year-end party was scheduled for the following week. Bonuses had been released that morning — substantial ones, the kind that made people check their accounts twice. Employee morale was high. Arianne had overheard someone in the hallway earlier that day refer to her as "the boss" instead of "the interim CEO," and she’d filed that away without comment.

The news had picked it up. The financial press had been running stories about Rochefort Group’s recent quarter, the aggressive consolidation, the silent takeover of essential resources and partners, the revenue that had surged past projections. After stabilizing in the first three quarters, Arianne hadn’t expanded overseas the way Blackwood Corporation had. Instead, she’d turned inward. She’d mapped the supply chains her competitors depended on and acquired them one by one. She’d renegotiated contracts that had been stagnant for years. She’d made herself indispensable to people who hadn’t known they needed her.

The business press was calling it a masterclass. Others were calling it ruthless. Arianne didn’t care what they called it, as long as the numbers held.

Gio appeared at her door with his tablet in hand. "The reports from the last quarter are finalized. Revenue is up forty-three percent from this time last year. The board is very happy."

"They should be. I did what they hired me to do."

"You did more than they hired you to do. That’s why they’re nervous." He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Alongside the positive press, there’s been some malicious gossip circulating. I thought you should know."

Arianne leaned back in her chair. "Tell me."

Gio glanced at his tablet, though he didn’t need to read from it. "The rumors fall into two categories. The first is that the Rochefort family handed you the company outright, which is why you’ve been able to do whatever you want without oversight. The second is more specific." He paused. "Some people are saying you’re keeping Noah Hart as a boy toy while you’re secretly engaged to Franz Rochefort."

Arianne’s expression didn’t change. "Engaged to Franz Rochefort."

"Yes. The logic, such as it is, goes like this: you’re a socialite and a private person. It would make sense for you to marry into the Rochefort family. Your relationship with Noah Hart is just a fling before the real marriage. He’s the entertainment. Franz is the commitment."

"And these people believe this."

"Some of them do. The story has enough internal logic to be plausible to anyone who doesn’t know the truth." Gio lowered his tablet. "The implication seems to be that someone wants to force you and Franz to admit your marriage publicly, while simultaneously dragging Noah’s name into the mud. It’s a two-pronged attack."

Arianne was still. Then she said, "People can be remarkably imaginative. They can turn black to white if the story is compelling enough."

"Do you want the rumors addressed? I can have them suppressed by the end of the week."

"No." She reached for her coffee, remembered it was cold, and set it down. "Let it be for now. We don’t need to retaliate every time someone makes a move. If we react too quickly, they’ll know they’ve hit something real. Let them talk. The rumors about me and Noah have been circulating for months, and none of them have stuck."

"This one is more specific."

"Specificity makes it easier to disprove when the time comes. Let it run its course." 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Gio nodded. Made a note. "There’s something else," he said, moving topics with the efficiency Arianne had always valued in him. "The skincare brand you invested in. They’re planning to expand westward next year, and they want Noah Hart as their primary brand ambassador. The contract needs updating before Franz returns."

Arianne nodded. "Good. The expansion gives us leverage. Make sure the terms reflect the international reach. His fee should account for the broader market."

"I’ve already drafted the adjustments. There’s one more thing." Gio paused, his face neutral. "You asked me to include Sam Pemberton in the campaign as well. The brand is open to featuring both of them. I’ve prepared a separate contract for her review."

Arianne watched him. His expression was perfectly professional. No flicker. No hesitation. No change in tone when he said Sam’s name. It was almost too controlled.

"Good," she said. "Have both contracts ready for Franz when he arrives. He’ll want to review them before the New Year."

"I’ll have them on his desk by tonight." Gio made a final note and looked up. "Franz’s flight landed an hour ago. He should be at the estate by evening."

Arianne glanced at the clock on her laptop. She’d been counting the days on the calendar with the twins, crossing off squares with the marker Lily kept on the kitchen counter. The waiting was almost over.

"Clear the rest of my afternoon," she said. "I’m going home early."

Gio nodded. "I’ll handle the remaining reports."

He turned to leave, and Arianne watched him go. He’d been perfectly professional throughout the exchange. Perfectly neutral. She’d given him an opening — Sam’s name, dropped deliberately into the conversation — and he’d stepped around it without breaking stride.

She didn’t call him back. She’d said what she needed to say days ago. The rest was up to him.

The estate had gone still when Arianne arrived. The twins were in the sitting room with Aunt Estella, Lily’s voice drifting down the hallway in an animated narration of her day. The calendar on the refrigerator caught Arianne’s eye as she passed, another square crossed off, the marker still sitting on the counter beside it.

She went upstairs to change. The bedroom was exactly as she’d left it, the bed made, the wooden whale on her nightstand. She’d returned it to Leo weeks ago, and he’d given it back to her the next morning. They’d been trading it back and forth ever since, an unspoken ritual neither of them acknowledged aloud.

She changed out of her suit and into something softer: a sweater, dark trousers, her hair loose around her shoulders. The armor of the workday fell away piece by piece.

Downstairs, the front door opened.

The twins’ shrieks of joy reached Arianne before she reached the stairs. By the time she came down, Franz was already on one knee in the foyer, his arms full of children, his bag abandoned by the door. Lily was talking a mile a minute about school and the calendar and the hamster in Miss Chen’s classroom. Leo had pressed himself against Franz’s side and hadn’t moved.

Franz looked up. Saw her on the stairs.

His smile changed. Softened. Became something private that was just for her.

"I’m home," he said.

"I can see that."

"I brought presents."

"Bribery."

"Effective bribery. The twins are on my side now."

Lily pulled back to look at his face. "We were already on your side. You don’t need presents."

"Good to know. I’ll return them."

"No!" She clamped onto his arm. "You can’t return presents. That’s against the rules."

"I didn’t know there were rules."

"There are always rules."

Franz met Arianne’s eyes over Lily’s head. The corner of his mouth twitched. She didn’t smile back, but something in her expression must have given her away, because his gaze held hers a beat longer than necessary.

"Come on, Uncle Franz," Lily said, tugging at his hand. "Leo and I made a fort in the sitting room. It’s bigger than the last one. You have to see it."

"I’m being summoned," Franz said to Arianne.

"You are."

He let Lily drag him toward the sitting room, Leo trailing behind with the whale under his arm. Arianne watched them go — her husband, her children, the noise and chaos of the life they’d built. Then she went to the kitchen to tell Aunt Estella they’d need an extra plate for dinner.

The reports were still on her desk at Rochefort Group. The rumors were still circulating. The skincare contracts were still waiting to be reviewed. For now, the house was full. The calendar was marked. The year was ending, and Franz was home.