For a second I was speechless—not because it wasn’t what I wanted, but because the way he framed it made my stomach tumble. Public recognition. A title. A place on letterheads. A legitimacy that could shield me in plain sight. But it was also a formalization that acknowledged Angel on a equally public plane. He looked at Angel after that, as if to read her expression.
Angel’s face softened. “I accept, if you want me to,” she said. Her voice was calm, not triumphant. “I’ll honor the roles and respect the boundaries.”
Conley nodded. “I want clarity. Not competition masked as secrecy. If you both know what the houses and public lives will be, there will be fewer accidents.”
The simplicity of the arrangement was almost obliging. It promised a new architecture: private terms framed by public
