PHOENIX IN PRADA
— EMMA —
It happened in a greenhouse.
Which was, I had to admit, extremely on-brand for a story that had already featured a crypt and a boardroom and a man who appeared in doorways like he'd been specifically placed there by the narrative.
The Harrison estate had a greenhouse on the grounds — the old one, glass and iron, smelling of green things and warm earth. Ethan had mentioned it once in passing as the place he went when everything was too loud. I had filed that away the way I filed everything — quietly, for later, without quite admitting why it felt important.
I found him there on a Sunday afternoon when the house was full of the aftermath of the James and Nathalie situation — a warmth that was slightly charged, a house breathing more carefully than usual, everyo
