Chapter 213: At Our House
The lights were dimmed, but the room didn’t disappear.
Arianne had adjusted them herself. One overhead off. The standing lamp near the window turned down. The screen did most of the work now, colors moving across the walls in soft, uneven pulses.
The movie had been Lily’s choice. It always was.
She sat in the center of the couch like she owned it. Legs tucked under the blanket she insisted on using even when she didn’t need it. The fabric had twisted around her knees from all the squirming, but she didn’t notice. Her chin rested just above the edge of the cushion. Her eyes followed everything on screen.
Leo sat beside her. Closer than he had been at the start.
His tablet lay face-down near his thigh. Forgotten. Every so often, his fingers twitched like he might reach for it, but he didn’t. His shoulders were forward. He leaned in when something caught him.
The movie was loud. Bright voices. Fast movement. Colors that didn’t stay in one place.
Lily reacted anyway. A small gasp. A laugh. A pull at the blanket that let it slip further down.
Leo didn’t react the same way. But he watched everything.
Arianne sat at the far end of the couch. Her arm rested along the back. Fingers loose against the fabric. Her shoulders were down. Her breathing was even. But her eyes moved between the screen and the children every few seconds. She didn’t need to check on them anymore. She did it anyway.
Franz sat beside her. Closer than before. Not touching.
His arm was along the back of the couch, just behind her shoulders. Not draped. Not withdrawn. Just there.
The glow from the screen moved across his face. Blue. Then gold. Then something warmer.
He wasn’t watching the movie. Neither was she.
"There’s another article," she said. Low. Just enough to reach him.
Franz’s hand moved behind her. Not toward her. Just a small adjustment, the way he did when something had landed. "I saw. Noah’s team is already on it."
She nodded. Didn’t ask what they were doing about it. That was the part she was learning—letting someone else manage a narrative about her. She’d spent years controlling every surface that faced outward. Letting go of one piece of that, even to someone she trusted, felt like learning a new grip.
"They’re framing it as intentional," she said.
"Let them."
She glanced at him. The screen moved behind his shoulder. "That doesn’t bother you?"
He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed on the children for a moment. Then: "It bothers me that you have to deal with it. The rest doesn’t matter."
Arianne looked back at the screen.
The rest doesn’t matter. She turned that over. It should have sounded like a dismissal. It didn’t. It sounded like something he’d decided already and wasn’t going to revisit.
She’d spent years making sure everything mattered—every detail, every surface, every impression. Because if she let something stop mattering, she’d learned, it became a gap that someone else could use. And Franz was sitting beside her saying the rest doesn’t matter, and the thing that landed wasn’t the dismissal. It was the we underneath it. The way he’d taken her problem and made it theirs without being asked.
On screen, music rose. A character shouted. Lily leaned forward, gripping the blanket. "Wait, wait—this part."
Leo leaned in closer.
Arianne lowered her voice. "The trips."
Franz turned his head toward her. Just slightly.
"They escalated," he said. Not asking. He’d been turning it over since the bar. "Frequency, distance."
"Yes."
"That means they found something. And they kept going back."
Arianne’s fingers pressed into the fabric behind her. "They weren’t visible about it. They made sure of that."
Franz went very flat. Not tense. Just precise, the way he got when something had clarified.
"Then they were meeting someone," he said. "Or looking for something specific. Not exploring."
"Layla’s family said they came back better." Arianne kept her eyes on the screen. "Every time."
Franz considered that. "Then they weren’t running."
"No." Her fingers stilled. "They were going toward something."
On screen, the scene changed. Bright. Chaotic. Loud.
Lily laughed. Leo’s shoulder bumped against hers as he leaned closer.
Franz’s hand moved behind Arianne. Not touching. Close enough that she felt the warmth.
"His study," Franz said. "If he was meeting people off the record, he would have kept something there. Not obvious. Something that doesn’t look like evidence until you know what you’re looking for."
He said it the way he said most things—like he’d worked it through before he opened his mouth. Like the conclusion had been sitting in him since the bar and he’d been checking it from different angles.
"He was careful with what he kept at the office," Franz said. "He kept the things he trusted most at home."
She heard the weight in that. He knew his brother. He knew how Alex worked, what he trusted, where he felt safe. And now they were going to walk into that house again and look for the thing Alex left in the place he felt safest.
Arianne turned her head. Not sharp. Just enough.
"We should go," she said.
"Tomorrow."
Her stomach tightened. She could feel the house already. The hallway. The study door. The weight of walking in.
"Yes," she said.
"What house? Is it our house?"
Lily’s voice cut through.
Arianne’s attention snapped to her.
Lily hadn’t turned fully. But her focus had broken from the screen. She was watching them now. Eyes sharp. The movie played on in front of her. She wasn’t seeing it.
Leo glanced between them. Reached for his tablet. Typed fast. Held it up.
where going?
"You’re supposed to be watching the movie," Arianne said.
"You were talking," Lily said. No apology. Just fact.
She pulled the blanket down as she turned toward them. "Can we come?"
Franz didn’t answer. Didn’t intervene. His attention stayed on Arianne.
Arianne looked at them. Really looked.
Lily was already leaning forward. Not hopeful. Not uncertain. Just waiting.
Leo held the tablet tighter. His eyes on her. Not blinking.
Arianne’s chest was tight. This wasn’t a field trip. This was searching for whatever Alex left behind. Whatever got him killed. Whatever got Layla killed.
And it was their house. The place where the twins had lived their whole lives before they hadn’t. The place where Alex had kept things he trusted. She’d been back once. That was it. The twins had wanted to see it. She hadn’t gone since.
"It’s not a visit," she said. Her voice didn’t harden. But it didn’t soften. "We’re going there to work."
"At our house." Lily said it flat. Not a question.
Arianne nodded.
Lily glanced at Leo. Leo typed. Faster. Held it up.
we’ll be good
"We’ll be good," Lily added immediately.
Arianne let the silence sit. Let them hold it.
Her gaze moved to Franz. He didn’t nod. Didn’t object.
His hand was behind her. Close.
"You can come," she said.
Lily’s face lit up.
"But you stay where we can see you. You don’t touch anything." A beat. "And you don’t interrupt."
Lily nodded fast. "We won’t."
Leo lifted his tablet again.
promise
Arianne held his gaze. His face was serious. Too serious for a four-year-old.
She nodded.
The movie continued. But it had lost something.
Lily tried to turn back. Pulled the blanket up. But her attention flickered now. Moving between the screen and the space behind her.
Leo watched longer. But even he glanced back once.
Franz’s hand settled against the couch behind Arianne’s shoulder. Closer than before.
"Tomorrow," he said. Low.
Her throat was dry. She could feel the house already. The hallway. The study door.
"Tomorrow."
On screen, something exploded into color. The room didn’t react. The light moved across their faces. Brief. Bright. Then gone.
Lily leaned into Leo without noticing. Leo didn’t move away.
Arianne’s hands were in her lap. She pressed her palms flat against her thighs to stop them from shaking.
The house had settled beyond the room. No movement. No interruption.
Just this.
Tomorrow. Alex’s house. His study. His things.
Franz was beside her, his hand now over her shoulder. She could feel him. Solid.
She didn’t lean into him. But she didn’t pull away.
The movie kept playing.
Lily’s eyes were on the screen, but her hands were twisted in the blanket. Too tight. She wasn’t watching anymore. She was somewhere else.
Leo had picked up his tablet. He wasn’t typing. Just holding it against his chest.
Arianne watched them.
Tomorrow, they’d walk through that door. All of them.
She didn’t know what they’d find.
Her fingers pressed harder into her thighs. She made them stop.
The colors moved across the walls. Bright. Empty.
No one was watching.