Harlan pointed at Riley like he was presenting evidence in court.
"It’s her fault," he said, sounding offended. "She insisted on coming to your house, then started complaining she was hungry. She demanded pasta and fried eggs. Since you people don’t have a maid, I ended up making it myself."
Lewis and I both turned to look at the kitchen ceiling.
Greasy splatters. A few dark spots. And one tragic fried egg stuck up there like a warning sign, the yolk still sliding down in slow defeat.
Lewis’s mouth twitched like he was fighting laughter and rage at the sa ti.
These two acted like our house was their territory. No invitation, no respect. Just walked in, started cooking, and sohow turned it into chaos.
Lewis rubbed his temples, like he could already feel the headache forming. He must’ve rembered he forgot to change the password this morning.
He lifted a finger and pointed at the half-cooked egg on the ceiling.
"Are you trying to make bread?" he asked flatly.
Harlan coughed, clearly embarrassed. "Ahem... I just wanted to try tossing the pan. And, well... it kind of ended up like that."
Lewis stared at him for a long second.
"Why didn’t you toss it into your head instead?" he said.
Harlan opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Even though Lewis was complaining, his body moved like an Alpha who couldn’t stand seeing disorder in his space. He poured a little oil, cleaned the pan, and calmly started showing Harlan how to cook the eggs properly.
No shouting. No drama.
Just quiet control.
Riley pulled aside, eyes full of admiration, and whispered like she was sharing a dirty secret.
"Lewis is insane," she said. "He can do everything. He goes to fancy events, he cooks, and he still has energy for you every night. Tell , does he not suffer from any man problems at all?"
I poked her forehead.
"Stop talking like that," I said, trying not to laugh. "Focus. Did you learn anything useful today?"
Riley’s face changed imdiately. She glanced back at the kitchen, then grabbed my wrist and dragged into the living room like she was afraid the walls could hear.
"I saw Whitney," she whispered.
My heart kicked hard.
"Did you talk to her?"
"Not properly. Vito was watching her closely. He used her ’poor health’ as an excuse to take her back to her room." Riley’s eyes shone with pride. "But I managed to sneak her a phone."
I froze.
My mouth fell open. "Riley... you’re brave."
Before now, I’d left Whitney a number, but that ant nothing if she had no way to contact anyone outside that house. A phone was not just a device.
It was a door.
Riley lifted her chin. "She probably wants to escape too. She looked shocked at first, but she hid it imdiately. Now we just wait. Once she finds a small opening, she’ll contact ."
"Well done," I said, rubbing her head gently. Then my gaze slid toward the kitchen. "So what’s going on with Harlan?"
Riley snorted.
"What else?" she said. "He’s being cheap. He insisted on following everywhere. The mont I said I was hungry, he had to show off. You saw it. He almost set your kitchen on fire."
She sighed dramatically, like she was the victim here.
"Dad always said a man who can’t cook is useless."
I chuckled under my breath.
Grant had only recently learned how to cook himself. Not long ago, that man couldn’t even fry an egg without panicking.
Just then, Harlan overheard Riley’s comnt.
He turned, eyes narrowing. "Your dad has been dead for years. How would he know?"
Riley didn’t even blink.
"Why do you care?" she shot back. "Doesn’t everyone have a few dads?"
Harlan’s jaw tightened. That low, annoyed edge slipped into his voice.
"I told you before, stop staying up late playing gas and getting involved with bad people."
He set a plate on the table with a heavy clink.
"Eat up, heiress."
Lewis and I exchanged a look.
Harlan had changed. Fast.
He was still sharp, still rude, but there was sothing else now. Sothing tighter. Like he was trying to control himself. Like he was holding back a temper that used to run wild.
Riley stared at him and said, "I’m staying here tonight. If you’ve got nothing to do, go ho."
Harlan’s eyes widened, then narrowed again.
"You ungrateful little thing," he muttered, then turned to Lewis. "Lewis, I’m staying here too."
Lewis’s face went blank.
He didn’t even bother fighting them anymore. He just looked at and said, "We’re going upstairs."
Riley sat down with her pasta and gave a pitiful look, chewing slowly like a child trying to buy ti.
"Sis, I’m thinking "
I cut her off imdiately.
"You’re thinking of nothing," I said. "Eat, then go to bed. And don’t disturb us tonight."
Riley stared at , speechless.
Like she couldn’t believe I’d betrayed her.
When Lewis and I got back to our room, he locked the door behind us and muttered under his breath like a man making a vow.
"I’m changing the password first thing tomorrow. It has to be done."
I laughed softly. "Okay, okay. Change it."
He leaned close, his scent brushing over , warm and familiar. His hand slid briefly to my waist, grounding .
"Elena," he said, voice low, "I’m going to take a shower."
"Alright."
The bathroom door closed.
And just like that, my smile faded.
Silence filled the room, but my mind wouldn’t settle.
I reached for the pendant around my neck the Soul–Stabilizing Pendant and held it up to the light. The stone looked normal at first glance. Soft color. Smooth surface.
But I couldn’t forget Amber’s reaction.
And I couldn’t forget what it used to look like.
When Lewis first gave it to , there were thin red streaks inside it. Like threads. Like sothing alive.
Now they were gone.
Not just gone absorbed.
The pale stone had turned slightly pink, as if those red threads had lted into it and beco part of its body.
My breath caught.
I rembered the faint scar on Lewis’s hand when he ca down the mountain. He’d brushed it off, saying it was an accidental cut while climbing.
But I knew the truth now.
Those red threads...
They weren’t random.
They were his blood.
My fingers tightened around the pendant.
This stone was supposed to need Gardner blood.
So why did Lewis add his?
And if it was harmless, why didn’t he tell ?
Why hide it?
My chest tightened, the bond in pulling toward him even as suspicion rose like a thorn.
I laid the pendant on a sheet of white paper and traced its shape with a pencil.
A teardrop.
I stared at the outline for a long ti, then turned the paper slightly and flipped the shape in my head.
Two teardrops.
Together, they ford a circle.
My stomach dropped.
A knot.
A symbol.
Sothing old.
Sothing that didn’t belong in ordinary life.
Amber had said there were two stones.
One light.
One dark.
My pendant... was the light side.
That ant the other teardrop the black one was the dark side.
And if Amber was right...
Lewis had the dark stone.
I swallowed hard, staring at the pendant like it might suddenly speak.
"What are you hiding from ?" I whispered.
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