The car ride was quiet.
Not the comfortable kind, but the thick, tension-heavy kind where even the air seemed cautious about making a sound. Daniel sat with his arms folded, his eyes glued to the window, jaw tight like he was chewing on a thousand unspoken thoughts. Rose sat with her hands clasped on her lap, stealing glances at Vincent—trying to read him, trying to find even a crack in that perfectly calm exterior of his.
The restaurant they arrived at was one of those places with frosted windows, valet parking, and a name so short it didn't even make sense—Ecru. Fancy, but not flashy. The kind of place that rich people used when they wanted to be seen not trying too hard.
Vincent led the way, and the maître d' immediately recognized him, bowing slightly and leading them to a private booth at the back. The space was dim, intimate, shielded from the other diners with sheer curtains. Rose sat first, Daniel beside her like a silent guard dog. Vincent took the opposite seat.
Menus were handed to them, but no one opened theirs. Not yet.
Vincent leaned back slightly in the booth, eyes roaming over his younger siblings as if trying to memorize every detail.
"You both have changed," he said finally, his voice soft. "Taller. More confident. Grown."
Rose and Daniel exchanged wary glances.
"I didn't expect to see you at that crosswalk," Vincent continued, a faint, almost sheepish smile playing on his lips. "Honestly, it caught me off guard. But I'm... glad. I've had this weight sitting heavy on my chest for months now, and I think it's finally time to let it go."
The silence that followed was loaded with disbelief.
Of all their siblings, Vincent was never the one to carry burdens. That had always been Alexander—disciplined, cold, too serious for his own good. Vincent was the carefree one, the charmer, the one who never stayed long enough in a room to be part of a serious conversation.
To see him now—composed, yet vulnerable—was surreal.
"I know that look," Vincent said, noticing their stunned expressions. "I deserve it. I've never been the one to talk about feelings or responsibilities, but I've come to learn that silence can be just as harmful as neglect."
He rested his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together.
"When you two left... I thought it was stubbornness. A teenage rebellion. I figured you'd spend a night or two outside, miss the comfort of home, and come crawling back."
His fists clenched tightly, knuckles paling.
"But I was wrong. And by the time I realized how serious things were—how serious Father was—it was too late. I should've stepped in. I should've stopped him from doing what he did."
Rose blinked, her voice dry as paper. "Why do you all think I left out of pride?"
Vincent met her gaze, pain flickering across his eyes. "Because that's what Alexander said. That you were too proud to come home. And I believed it. I let my assumptions silence the instinct I should've followed as your brother."
There was a pause.
Then, quieter: "Forgive me. I wasn't a good brother. I thought letting you struggle would teach you a lesson. But abandoning you like that? That wasn't tough love. That was cowardice."
Neither Rose nor Daniel spoke. The confession came from such an unexpected place, it left them rooted in place, emotions jumbled and tangled.
Vincent leaned back again, breathing in slowly. "And as for Father… He didn't marry Olivia for love. He married her because the company was dying. Her family offered a deal. A merger. A financial lifeline, but it came with strings."
Rose frowned. "So it was all business?"
"Yes," Vincent said quickly. "And no. There's more, but..." He hesitated, gaze hardening. "If you don't know the rest, it's safer that way."
Daniel narrowed his eyes. "You really think we're still kids?"
"I think you're not ready for this weight," Vincent replied.
That hit a nerve.
Daniel slammed his hand on the table, startling the waiter passing by. "Do we look like kids to you? We've been surviving on our own for a year while you people sat in your gold-plated silence. And what's the use of opening this door if you're not going to walk us through it?!"
His voice rose.
"Do you even know your blood sister was kidnapped? Do you even care?!"
That shattered whatever composure Vincent had. His face went pale. He looked sharply at Rose, eyes scanning her as if trying to detect any hidden wound.
"You were... kidnapped?"
Rose gave Daniel a sharp glance. "You didn't have to say that."
Vincent reached across the table slightly, brows furrowed. "Rose, are you okay? Who did it? I swear, I'll—"
"It's over," she interrupted.
But from Daniel came a quiet murmur, almost under his breath.
"That was already taken care of."
Vincent caught it. His sharp hearing was trained from years of business negotiations. He tilted his head. "Taken care of?"
Neither sibling answered. But the question planted a seed in his mind—one he would revisit.
The rest of the meal passed in strained silence. Forks clinked against plates, water glasses sweat on the linen cloth, but no one truly tasted their food.
Eventually, Rose pushed her plate aside.
"Thank you for the meal," she said, rising. "But I think it's time we left. Aunty Addie is waiting at home."
Vincent's brow lifted. "Wait, who's—?"
But Rose had already turned on her heel, cheeks heating at the slip.
"Daniel," she called, and her brother followed without hesitation.
They stepped out into the cool evening air, the city buzzing softly around them.
But before they could call a taxi, a figure stepped away from the shadows near a parked car.
"Rose."
She froze.
Laurence stood there, shifting nervously. He looked almost apologetic... and afraid.
"I—what are you doing here?" Rose asked, stunned. "Are you waiting for someone?"
"No," Laurence said softly. "I was waiting for you."
She blinked. "How did you know I was here?"
"You were supposed to call me. I was meant to drive you," he replied, his voice low and polite. "If this happens again, I could lose my job. And..." he murmured something she couldn't catch.
"What?"
Daniel stepped forward, voice firm. "That's not what she asked. How did you find us?"
Laurence hesitated.
Rose's brows furrowed. "Are there spies in my home?"
The silence was louder than any answer.
"That's what I thought," she snapped, and turned to walk toward the street.
"Miss Rose, please—" Laurence jogged after her. "Please just get in the car. Let me take you home."
She spun around. "Where's Julian?"
Laurence hesitated again, then said, "He's not in the country."
Without another word, Rose flagged down a taxi. Daniel opened the door for her, and they both got in.
Laurence didn't argue. He simply returned to his car and followed the taxi all the way home.
And Rose sat quietly in the back seat, her fists clenched, her thoughts racing.
There were spies in her home. Julian wasn't even in the country.
And now she knew—
Even safety could be a performance.
And even trust... had layers.