Charles arrived that evening. There was no fanfare, no intimidation. He appeared in the doorway, precise and measured, the faintest scent of cigar smoke lingering in his wake. James tensed for a heartbeat, then relaxed slightly. This visit was different. No threats. No games. Just… observation.
“You’ve managed the aftermath well,” Charles said, voice smooth, almost disinterested. “Both of you. That will suffice.”
James let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thank you,” he said, voice steady but quiet.
Penelope exhaled as well, leaning lightly against the counter. “We’re… done?” she asked, almost whispering, as though speaking the words aloud might make them disappear.
James’s thumb brushed over her knuckles, grounding her. “Done enough,” he said. “Enough to breathe. En
