Chapter 210: No Secrets Between Them
By the time Arianne got the twins into bed, the house had gone flat.
Lily fought it first. "I’m not tired." Two questions about why the moon follows the car. One whispered conversation with Leo that ended with him typing something on his tablet and her refusing to show what it was.
Then Lily’s eyes closed mid-sentence.
Leo went easier. His tablet slipped from his hands while he was reading it. His breathing changed before he did.
Arianne stayed. Sitting on the edge of the bed. One hand on the blanket between them. Not touching either of them. Just close enough to feel the rise and fall.
She sat there longer than she needed to.
When she finally stood, she adjusted the blanket. Unnecessary. Checked the tablet on the bedside table. Turned the light off halfway. Dim enough that the room didn’t feel empty.
The door closed behind her without a sound.
The drive was silent. No music.
The city had thinned into that late-night rhythm. Lights on. Traffic slower. People moving with less purpose. Arianne kept both hands on the wheel before she realized she was gripping it. She forced her fingers to loosen. They didn’t want to.
Her mind didn’t drift. It stayed where it had been all evening.
Trips. A year. No children. Not random. Not casual.
Alex and Layla, leaving the twins, going somewhere they didn’t name. Coming back happy. Good for the marriage, Jessica had said. She was glad they had time away.
Jessica didn’t know anything was wrong. That was the point. That was the whole point.
Her jaw was sore. She’d been clenching it without noticing.
She turned into the street.
Nate’s bar didn’t look like much from the outside.
No sign that stood out. Just a dark front, low lighting, the kind of place people either knew or didn’t.
Inside, it was warmer.
Low music. Glass against wood. The steady hum of conversation that stayed in the background instead of pushing forward.
Julian and Gilbert weren’t in the open.
They were already in the back.
Past the bar, behind a narrow hallway most customers didn’t notice unless they were looking for it. A door sat slightly ajar at the end—dark wood, no marking.
Arianne pushed it open and stepped in.
The room was small.
Not cramped, but contained. One low table. Two leather benches facing each other. A single overhead light, dim enough to keep the edges in shadow. The walls muted the noise from the bar until it became a distant hum.
Julian sat on one side, angled slightly toward the door, glass in hand. Gilbert was across from him, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, already focused.
No one spoke.
Nate came over a moment later. Set a glass in front of her without asking. Something dark. Strong.
She picked it up. Didn’t drink.
The silence stayed. Not awkward. Just waiting.
The door opened again.
Franz stepped in. He didn’t pause. Didn’t scan the room. His steps were direct, certain. He moved through the bar like the noise didn’t touch him.
He slid into the booth beside Arianne. Close. Not touching.
"Sorry." Low. "Ran late."
No elaboration. The cool of outside air clung to him—clean, something sharper underneath. His sleeve brushed her arm as he settled. It landed.
Julian tipped his glass. "Filming done?"
Franz nodded. "For now." A beat. "The rest is waiting."
He didn’t say Rochefort Group. Didn’t need to. The weight of it sat there anyway. Reports. Approvals. Decisions stacked longer than they should have been.
Arianne didn’t look at him. But she felt the change. Her stepping in had eased the pressure. Not removed it. Never that.
No one spoke for a moment. They drank instead.
The glass was cold in Arianne’s hand. The liquid burned on the way down. She let it settle in her chest.
Then she set the glass down.
"I took the twins to see Layla’s family."
That broke it.
Julian’s posture changed. Gilbert’s attention sharpened. Nate moved closer, one hand on the table without sitting.
Franz didn’t move. But she could feel him listening. The way his weight adjusted. The way his focus narrowed.
"They told me something." Arianne’s fingers rested against the rim. She wanted to grip it. She didn’t. "Last year, Alex and Layla started taking trips. Just the two of them."
Nate’s brows pulled together. "Trips?"
"Regular. Every few weeks. Sometimes longer."
Julian leaned forward. "They left the twins?"
"With Layla’s parents." Her throat was dry. She didn’t reach for the glass. "They thought it was time away. A couple thing."
She looked at the table.
"It wasn’t."
Gilbert spoke first. "Alex mentioned traveling." His voice was even, lining something up. "But he never said Layla was with him." His gaze moved to the table. "I thought he was handling something on his own."
Julian frowned. "Why bring Layla into that?" Sharper than he meant. Not accusatory. Off balance.
Nate answered. "Because there’s no secret between them."
He said it simply. His gaze moved between Arianne and Franz. "Same with you two?"
The question sat there.
Arianne didn’t answer. Franz didn’t move. She could feel his arm beside hers. The heat from his skin. The way he hadn’t pulled away.
She should say something. Something casual. Something that meant nothing.
She didn’t.
The silence stretched. Too long to be accidental.
Arianne could feel Julian watching them. Gilbert too. The booth was small and the pause was specific and everyone at the table understood exactly what kind of silence it was.
Nate huffed out a breath. "Yeah," he said. "That tracks."
He straightened. "Did you tell Audrey?" He looked at Gilbert.
Gilbert shook his head. "No." No hesitation. "I trust her. But I’m not pulling her into something we don’t understand yet." His jaw tightened. "Not like this."
Nate nodded. "Fair."
No one spoke for a moment. But this time it wasn’t waiting. It was thinking.
Arianne leaned back. Her shoulder brushed Franz’s. She didn’t move away.
"Layla wasn’t just with him." Her voice stayed level. She made it stay level. "She was part of it. Whatever Alex was doing—she knew."
Julian exhaled sharply. "That raises the risk."
"Yes." Arianne’s fingers tapped once against the glass. Harder than she meant. The sound was sharp. "Significantly."
She didn’t need to say the rest. If Layla knew—if she was involved—then her death wasn’t collateral.
The thought sat in her chest like something she couldn’t swallow.
Two people who knew the same thing. Two people who went somewhere they didn’t name, who came back happy, who said nothing to the people who loved them. Two people who were now dead.
Not coincidence. Not accident. A clear pattern.
Nate dragged a hand along the edge of the table. "Then we’re missing half the picture." He looked at Arianne. "Where they went matters."
"That’s what we need to find."
"I’ll trace it." Simple. Direct. "Routes, bookings, anything tied to their names."
Gilbert’s gaze lifted. "Careful." Not warning. Just fact. "If they were being watched then, they’ll be watching now."
Nate’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "They won’t see me."
Julian leaned back. Not relaxing. "There’s another angle." His eyes moved between them. "If this spreads—if whatever this is starts touching more than Summers—" He stopped. "The Conways."
The name landed.
Gilbert didn’t answer right away. His expression tightened. "I don’t know," he said finally. Honest. "But if the pattern holds..." He exhaled. "They won’t stay untouched."
Arianne’s fingers went flat on the glass.
The ripple was widening. Not fast. Steady.
Franz moved. Not much. His hand rested on the table beside hers. Close enough that she could feel the heat. Not touching.
She didn’t look at him. But her hand moved. Just slightly. Just enough.
No one said anything.
The bar noise carried on. Someone laughed near the counter. Glasses clinked. The music changed tracks. None of it touched the table.
Arianne looked down at the surface for a second. Her own hand. His hand beside it. The space between.
She looked up.
"Then we move faster."
Her voice didn’t rise. Didn’t sharpen. It didn’t need to. It never did.
No one argued. No one questioned it.
Nate picked up his glass. Didn’t drink. Just held it. "I’ll have something by the end of the week."
Julian nodded. "I’ll start watching the Conways’ side. Low profile."
Gilbert didn’t say anything. Just looked at the table. Jaw tight.
Franz’s finger brushed against hers. Once. Then gone.
No one else saw it.
Arianne let it stay.
Outside, the night had settled deeper. Inside, the booth held them all.
Something had changed. She could feel it in the way Julian hadn’t touched his drink in ten minutes. In the way Gilbert kept looking at the door. In the way Nate hadn’t gone back behind the bar.
They were all doing it—sitting with the weight of something that had grown larger than any of them had anticipated when they walked in. The Conways. Layla knowing. Half the picture missing.
No one wanted to leave first.
No one said it out loud.
Franz’s hand was beside hers on the table. Close enough that she could feel his pulse against her skin if she concentrated.