Chapter 96 Christianna
Chapter ninety-six
Christianna
“What do you think the note meant?” Meg whispers from her side of the bed.
I stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Until the opera house, I hadn’t really interacted with anyone in years. I keep hoping it’s coincidence.”
Meg doesn’t answer right away. When she does, her voice is quieter. “You had the flat tire. Then the calls. Then the fake sign-ups.”
I turn my head toward her.
“And the video,” she adds. “That wasn’t random. It wasn’t about him. It was about you.”
My body stiffens.
“The reporter followed the Earls to your house,” she continues. “Someone was watching closely enough to know how to get near you without coming straight at you.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the sound of the piano drifts up. I pause as I listen. Something new. Dark. Angry. My fingers itch to follow it, to disappear into the music.
“I don’t have time to unravel right now,” I say quietly. “We’re ramping up for the patron dinner party. Press. Local engagements.”
Meg exhales. “That’s why it matters.”
I stare back at the ceiling, the weight of it finally settling.
“It does feel personal,” I admit. “Doesn’t it?”
She shifts, then sits up and takes my hand. “Maybe letting the guys move in wouldn’t be the worst thing. More people around. People you trust.”
I hesitate. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
“You are,” she says gently. “You don’t shrink around them. You talk. You push back. You say no, and they listen.”
She squeezes my fingers. “Let Erik bring in some furniture. Start there.”
I bite my lip, thinking of how easy it is to hold his hand. To draw boundaries. To be heard by them.
Maybe I’ve recovered more than I let myself believe.