Chapter 10

For a few seconds after Simon Vale said his name, neither of them moved.

Rain drifted past the lobby windows behind him in soft gray streaks, muting the traffic outside into something distant and underwater. Evelyn still held the florist box against her chest, the white roses cold and damp beneath her fingers.

Lena’s brother looked older than she remembered.

Not older in years.

Older in damage.

The last time she had seen him, he’d still been attending court hearings and answering reporters outside police barricades with the exhausted determination of someone who believed persistence alone could keep grief from hardening permanently.

Now grief had hardened anyway.

“You look surprised,” Simon said.

Evelyn swallowed carefully. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“No,” he replied. “You usually expect microphones instead.”

The words landed exactly where he intended them to.

The receptionist behind the counter suddenly became very interested in paperwork.

Evelyn shifted the flowers into one arm. “This isn’t really the place—”

“You uploaded another episode.”

His voice remained quiet, but anger lived beneath it with frightening steadiness.

“I know.”

“You know.”

The repetition sharpened into disbelief.

Rainwater darkened the shoulders of Simon’s coat where he’d walked through the storm. He looked exhausted enough that Evelyn wondered if he’d slept at all since the upload went live.

Probably not.

Neither had she.

“I didn’t mean to publish it,” she said carefully.

Simon laughed once under his breath.

Not humor.

Recognition.

“That’s the thing about you, Eve. Somehow the worst things always happen accidentally.”

The sentence hit harder than she expected.

Because part of her still feared he might be right.

The lobby suddenly felt too small.

Evelyn glanced briefly toward the front entrance. “Can we do this outside?”

Simon looked at her for a long second before nodding once.

The rain had weakened again by the time they stepped onto the sidewalk, though the air still smelled sharply of wet concrete and traffic. Water rushed along the gutters beside parked cars while pedestrians moved quickly beneath umbrellas farther down the block.

Simon stopped beneath the awning near the entrance.

Evelyn remained standing a few feet away.

Distance felt safer.

For both of them.

“You shouldn’t have released that recording,” he said.

“I know.”

“People are tearing Lena apart online now.”

Guilt moved immediately through her chest.

“I never wanted that.”

“No,” Simon replied softly. “You just wanted the story.”

Evelyn flinched slightly.

The flowers felt suddenly ridiculous in her hands.

“She was my friend too.”

Simon looked at her then with an expression so tired it almost stopped resembling anger.

“That’s what makes this so disgusting.”

Rain tapped softly against the awning overhead.

Across the street, headlights blurred silver through mist.

Evelyn tried carefully to steady her breathing.

“I spent five years trying to remember what happened to her.”

“And now you’re making money off forgetting.”

The words cut cleanly enough that she couldn’t immediately answer.

Simon stepped closer, not threatening exactly, but emotionally relentless in a way that felt harder to defend against.

“You know what people say about you online now?” he asked quietly. “They treat you like some tragic mystery girl. The beautiful damaged survivor.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No?” His mouth tightened briefly. “My sister disappeared and somehow you became famous.”

Evelyn looked away first.

Because shame was difficult to survive under direct eye contact.

The city moved around them in wet reflections and muted horns while Simon continued speaking in the same controlled tone.

“You built an entire career out of death.”

“I built a career trying to understand it.”

“Bullshit.”

The sharpness of the word startled both of them slightly.

Simon dragged a hand across his face before looking back toward the street.

“She trusted you,” he said more quietly. “Lena trusted you more than anybody.”

Something inside Evelyn tightened painfully.

“She was my best friend.”

“And now strangers use her disappearance as background audio for TikTok edits.”

The truth of it landed hard enough to make her chest ache.

She had seen the videos.

Rain effects layered over slowed-down audio clips of her confession.

People romanticizing grief they had never touched.

Evelyn looked down at the roses still pressed awkwardly against her coat.

“For what it’s worth,” she said softly, “I would trade every listener I’ve ever had if it meant she came home.”

Simon’s expression shifted then.

Not softer.

Just less certain.

For one fragile second he looked less like someone confronting an enemy and more like a man who had been carrying anger so long he no longer remembered where to put it down.

Then he noticed the flowers.

His face hardened instantly again.

“Who sent those?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you kept them.”

Evelyn stared at him.

“What does that mean?”

Simon looked genuinely disturbed now.

“You really don’t see it.”

“See what?”

“The way people circle you.”

Cold moved slowly through her stomach.

Before she could answer, another voice entered the space between them.

“Simon.”

Both of them turned.

Adrian Cross stood near the curb beside a black sedan, one hand resting lightly against the roof of the car. Rain darkened his coat collar and dampened strands of hair near his temple, but otherwise he looked infuriatingly composed.

Simon’s entire posture changed instantly.

Not fear.

Hatred.

Pure and immediate.

“Well,” Simon muttered, “there he is.”

Evelyn looked between them.

“You know each other.”

Neither man answered immediately.

That silence told her enough.

Adrian approached slowly, gaze moving first toward the flowers in her hands before returning to her face.

“You should go upstairs,” he said quietly.

Simon laughed sharply.

“There it is.”

Evelyn frowned. “What?”

“That thing he does.” Simon stepped backward slightly, eyes fixed on Adrian now. “Like he gets to decide what’s safe for everyone.”

Adrian ignored him.

“Evelyn.”

“No,” she said suddenly. “Not this time.”

Rain whispered against parked cars around them.

For the first time since arriving, Adrian looked directly unsettled.

Not outwardly.

Something smaller.

Controlled tension.

Evelyn stepped closer instead of backing away.

“You knew Simon would be here.”

Adrian remained silent.

“How?”

Still nothing.

Simon shook his head slowly beside them.

“You really haven’t figured him out yet.”

“Simon,” Adrian warned quietly.

“No.” Simon’s voice sharpened. “You don’t get to control this conversation too.”

Pedestrians passed farther down the sidewalk without noticing the three of them standing motionless beneath gray rainlight and years of buried history.

Evelyn looked directly at Adrian now.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

Then Simon answered for him.

“Ask him about Elise.”

The name struck the air between them like broken glass.

Adrian’s gaze snapped toward Simon immediately.

And for the first time since Evelyn met him—

She saw genuine fear cross his face.