Last time on L.A. Connections…

Jordan and James outsmarted Mickey’s assassination plot by swapping Jordan for a prop dummy, then used Suzanne as leverage to force Mickey into retreat. Jordan fired Brett over his role in Mickey’s money-laundering scheme, leaving Brett to pour his heart out to a wary Sharon and confess he was in love with her. Riley asked Phoebe on a date\ while Natalie was devastated after walking in on Steve with another woman. Suzanne’s fragile reputation exploded in public when Lara accused her of being a homewrecker and dragged up her past, prompting Suzanne to slap her in front of everyone. Lara tried to press charges until James arrived and smoothed things over. At MBA, Miranda turned to Ethan for help with the agency’s books, only to be told there was little hope of saving the business, forcing her to make the heartbreaking decision to close its doors. Miranda was haunted by the memory of a flirtatious encounter with Nico years earlier. Jane went into labor and was rushed to the hospital, while a terrified Stormy, fearing he might not be around to see his child grow up, accepted the Bravettis’ offer of help. Wildfires began erupting across Los Angeles.

* * *

By nine in the morning, L.A. was already the color of old copper. Hot, dry winds came tearing down through the canyons in sudden, punishing gusts, shaking palm fronds, rattling windows, and driving smoke across the basin in thick, dirty sheets. What had started as scattered brush fires in the hills above Malibu and Topanga had jumped the ridgelines before dawn, pushing east toward Bel Air and south toward the 405, while new flare-ups sparked along the dry slopes near Brentwood and Beverly Glen. Ash drifted through the weak morning sunlight, settling on windshields, rooftops and swimming pools.

Inside the conservatory of Muffy Tremond’s house, Blake paced the length of the room, chains rattling softly with each step. Days of captivity were beginning to show on him now. His beard had grown past its usual stubble, and his movements carried the restless energy of someone running out of patience. 

He stopped near the windows and stared out toward the gardens.

No way out.

* * *

Sadie moved from room to room of Mrs. Tremond’s house with growing purpose, opening drawers, sorting through cabinets, and setting various items into a growing pile on the dining room table. A silver jewelry box, a small cash tin, things Mrs. Tremond likely wouldn’t notice missing until long after Sadie and Iris were gone. 

* * *

Outside, Betsy trotted up to the main house and stopped at the kitchen’s screen door. With a simple push of her nose, it swung open and she padded inside.

She crossed through the sitting room and made a beeline for the wall outside the conservatory. Reaching the damaged section near the baseboard, she immediately resumed scratching.

Plaster and paint chips scattered across the floor as the hole grew larger. Betsy paused only briefly to whine at the wall before digging again, determined to reach the other side.

* * *

Back inside the conservatory, Blake froze. His head turned toward a muffled sound coming from outside the room.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Slowly, he approached the far wall and noticed hairline cracks stretching outward from a small depression near the baseboard while fresh plaster dust had begun collecting beneath it.

Blake crouched and a smile almost formed. “Betsy…”

The scratching stopped and a moment later, the conservatory door opened. Blake immediately stood and stepped away from the wall, positioning himself in front of it so that the damage was hidden.

Sadie entered carrying bottles of water and a small plate of food. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she saw him standing precariously across the room.  “What are you doing?”

Blake shrugged casually. “Nothing.”

She studied him for a moment but apparently found nothing suspicious enough to pursue. Setting the food down, she smiled faintly. “I think I’ve almost convinced Iris to leave town,” she began. “She’s still resistant, but I know I can get her to see my side of things. A fresh start, new energy, new opportunities. We’ll be out of here before you know it.”

Blake forced a smile. “That’s great.”

Sadie nodded enthusiastically. “I really think it’s what the universe wants.”

“So what about me?”

Sadie tilted her head slightly. “Well…” A smile spread across her face. “The good news is Mrs. Tremond will be back as soon as her sister is out of the hospital. She’ll probably find you here soon after.” Then she added with a maniacal laugh: “Unless the wildfires get to you first.”

Blake cringed at the thought.

“And if she beats the pneumonia,” Sadie continued cheerfully, “that could be as soon as the end of the summer.”

For a moment, Blake simply stared at her. The end of the summer? His eyes widened in horror. “You can’t leave me here for three months. Are you fucking joking?”

Completely oblivious, Sadie shrugged and gave him one last encouraging smile before turning and leaving the conservatory.

Blake waited only long enough to hear her footsteps disappear. Then he rushed back to the wall in desperation, dropped to his knees, and immediately began pulling at the cracked plaster with both hands.  

On the other side, somewhere beyond the crumbling wall, Betsy started scratching again.

* * *

Miranda and Eddie arrived at Cedars-Sinai in the gray haze of morning, with Tiger trailing several steps behind them, her hands buried in the pockets of her hoodie and her expression fixed in its usual sullen mask.

The sun was up somewhere behind the smoke, barely strong enough to cut through the ash hanging over Los Angeles. The distant hills were blurred beneath a dirty orange-brown veil, and every so often, a faint glow pulsed beyond the haze where the fires continued to burn.

Miranda paused before the sliding doors, looking toward the horizon. “My god,” she said quietly. “It’s worse this morning.”

Eddie followed her gaze. “They said more flare-ups overnight.”

“It feels like the whole city is literally choking.”

Tiger glanced at the smoky sky, then looked away as if refusing to be impressed.

After Miranda checked in, they were directed to the elevator and upstairs to the maternity floor.

They found Stormy standing outside Jane’s room, looking exhausted and slightly stunned. He was still in yesterday’s clothes, his hair disheveled, his face pale beneath the fluorescent lights. But when Miranda saw him, she crossed to him immediately.

“Oh, Stormy.”

He pulled her into his arms and held on. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then Eddie stepped in and embraced him too, clapping a hand against his back. “Congratulations,” Eddie said quietly.

Stormy gave a stunned laugh. “Thanks. I think I’m still trying to believe it.”

Miranda pulled back and handed him a bag. “We stopped by your house and got you a change of clothes,” she said. “How’s Jane?”

“Thanks,” Stormy said quickly. “Tired and sore. But okay. The doctors said she did great.”

“And the baby?”

A smile broke through Stormy’s exhaustion, softening his whole face. “She’s okay too. She was early, obviously, but the doctors said thirty-five weeks isn’t unusual. They want to keep an eye on her for a few days, make sure she’s feeding well and keeping her temperature up, but no major concerns.”

Miranda exhaled, relief moving through her. “Thank god. Can we see her?” Miranda asked.

Stormy nodded and pushed the door open gently. Inside, Jane was propped against the pillows, pale and tired but awake, with the baby bundled in a hospital blanket against her chest. 

Miranda stopped just inside the doorway, her eyes filling with emotion. “Oh,” she whispered. “Look at her.”

Eddie stepped beside her, his voice low. “She’s beautiful.”

Tiger lingered near the door, trying to look indifferent, but even she stared a second longer than she probably meant to.

Jane gave them a tired smile. “She made quite an entrance.”

“She takes after her father,” Miranda said softly.

Stormy moved to Jane’s bedside and looked down at his daughter as if he were afraid to blink and miss something. The tiny girl shifted inside the blanket, her mouth opening in a sleepy little grimace before settling again against Jane.

“Does she have a name yet?” Miranda asked.

Stormy shook his head. “Not yet. We had a list going, but then everything happened so fast.” 

“Now none of them feel right,” Jane added.

Miranda moved closer to the bed, careful not to crowd Jane. “Mom said she and Jordan are stopping by this morning.”

“Dad was here earlier,” Stormy told them. “Any idea what’s going on with him and Lara? She wasn’t with him, and he didn’t seem very willing to talk about it.”

“I have no idea,” Miranda replied. Truth be told, she hadn’t been too aware of much else lately other than her struggles with the agency. “Ethan said he saw her coming out of a guestroom at the house, though.”

“Hmm,” Stormy said, wondering what could be going on that their father wasn’t telling them.

“Nervous about tomorrow?” Eddie asked.

Stormy looked away from Jane and the baby and slowly let out a deep breath. “Very.”

But the truth was darker and heavier. He kept wondering if the Bravettis were really going to make the charges disappear the way they had promised. And if they did make it go away, what would they want in return?

He looked back at his daughter, so small beneath the hospital blanket, sleeping against Jane as smoke thickened outside the windows, and felt the question coil tighter inside him.

* * *

The production offices for American Star buzzed with activity. Phoebe sat at a conference table organizing archival photographs while Keaton worked through a revised production schedule beside her. Since losing her job at MBA, she’d found herself spending more time around the project. Officially she was helping with research and organization. Unofficially, it gave her somewhere to be, and she enjoyed bonding with Keaton.

Keaton glanced up from the paperwork in front of him. “Any more of those episodes? The ones about your father’s death.”

Phoebe shook her head. “No. They come and go.”

After a moment, Keaton leaned back in his chair. “So you’ve been dealing with this for over a year?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Why didn’t you tell anybody when you got here? I mean, you could have confided in Kelly, or maybe one of the girls from MBA. You didn’t have to struggle through these last few months.”

Phoebe shrugged. “Because it’s kind of a conversation killer, to be honest,” she said, then gave a humorous laugh. 

“Well, not when you’re with people who really care about you,” Keaton said.  “Did you feel like you weren’t getting support back in Santa Barbara? Is that why you decided to come down to L.A.?”

A brief silence settled between them while Phoebe sorted another stack of photos. Then her expression shifted slightly. “Kind of. I mean, there’s just something about that place.”

Keaton looked up. “Santa Barbara?”

“The house where we lived,” she told him. “With my mother’s new husband.”

“The psychiatrist, right?”

Phoebe nodded. “He was my doctor. The one I told you I was seeing about the crash stuff.”

That immediately caught Keaton’s attention. “Really? Your stepfather was your psychiatrist?”

Nodding, she set down a photograph and folded her hands together. “And I know this probably sounds strange, but I always got the feeling he didn’t want me to get better.”

Keaton frowned. “That’s a pretty serious thing to say about a doctor.”

“I know.” She sighed. “And I can’t point to anything specific. It’s not like he did something obviously wrong.”

“Then what was it?”

Phoebe searched for the words. “Whenever I’d start making progress, we’d somehow end up right back where we started. The same fears, the same memories, the same conversations.” She looked down at the table. “It felt like he wanted me stuck there.”

Keaton sat quietly for a moment. “Like he was steering you back to the trauma?”

Phoebe looked relieved that he’d understood. “Sort of.” 

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s weird.”

A laugh escaped her. “Thank you.”

“What?”

“My mother told me I was imagining it.”

“Well,” Keaton said with a faint smile, “maybe you were right to question him. Have you thought any more about seeing a therapist again?”

“Yes,” she said, then added with a determined nod of her head, “and I will.”

“Good.”

As Keaton returned to his paperwork, Phoebe found herself watching him for a moment longer than she intended.

Before either could say anything else, the office door swung open and Riley poked his head inside. “Hey.”

Phoebe immediately looked up. “Hey.”

Riley smiled. “We’re still on for tonight, right?”

Phoebe stammered out a response while her gaze shifted unnecessarily to Keaton. “Uh… yeah,” she said. 

“Okay. Just checking.” Riley pointed toward the hallway. “I’ve got another wardrobe fitting. See ya.”

Phoebe smiled and gave a slight wave before he disappeared again. 

Keaton glanced toward the doorway before looking back at her. “Are you two going out?”

Phoebe suddenly found the photographs in front of her very interesting. “Maybe.”

Keaton smiled faintly. “Maybe?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“A date?”

“I don’t know,” she said, laughing softly. “It’s dinner and a movie.”

“With a guy who asked you out.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds more official.”

Keaton leaned back slightly in his chair. “Well, for what it’s worth, Riley’s a good guy.”

Phoebe smiled faintly. “That’s what everybody keeps telling me.”

For a moment neither said anything. Then Keaton returned to his production schedule while Phoebe resumed sorting photographs, though her attention wasn’t really on them anymore. She told herself she was nervous because she hadn’t been on a date in a long time.

What she didn’t realize was that the uncomfortable feeling had started the moment Riley asked about their date in front of Keaton.

* * *

Tiger walked twenty feet ahead of them when they left the hospital and returned to their vehicle.

“What are we going to do with her?” Miranda asked. “She’s so angry all the time. Do you think she needs therapy?”

Eddie stifled a chuckle. “Would you have agreed to therapy at fourteen?”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “That’s not the same thing.”

“No?”

She thought about it for a moment as they continued down the sidewalk. “I suppose I wasn’t exactly easy.”

Eddie laughed outright.

Miranda smirked in spite of herself. “I found it difficult to connect with most people.”

And suddenly her mind drifted backward…

October 1999

The old treehouse sat high in one of the enormous oak trees behind the Blackthorne mansion, hidden among thick branches that shielded it from most of the property below. Fourteen-year-old Miranda sat cross-legged on the wooden floor with a notebook open in her lap. Across from her, Nico Bravetti leaned comfortably against the wall, one arm draped over a support beam while sunlight filtered through the slats around them.

Miranda cleared her throat and glanced down at her notes. “Ok, so, my book report is on To Kill a Mockingbird.”

Nico nodded thoughtfully. “A legal thriller.”

Miranda immediately rolled her eyes. “It is not a legal thriller.”

“Sure sounds like one.”

“It’s literature.”

“Ah.” He nodded again. “Much more dangerous.”

Miranda smiled and returned to the report. “‘Harper Lee explores themes of morality, justice, and childhood innocence through the eyes of Scout Finch—’”

“Question.”

She looked up. “What?”

“Does anybody get blown up?”

“No.”

“Car chase?”

“No. Nico!” Miranda exclaimed with a laugh. “You’re supposed to be helping me practice for my oral report!”

“What? I’m trying to engage with the material.”

Miranda laughed and shook her head before continuing. A few minutes later she lowered the notebook in surrender. “You are impossible.”

The playful exchange faded into a comfortable silence. Nico looked around the treehouse, taking in the hand-painted walls, old cushions, and years of accumulated childhood clutter. “This place is pretty cool.”

“Stormy and I practically lived up here when we were younger.” Miranda shrugged. “Then I started coming up here just to get away. Most people annoy me.”

That earned another laugh from him. “You’re fourteen and you’ve already decided you don’t like people.”

She smiled coquettishly. “Well, some people are okay.”  

Nico immediately recognized what she was doing. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,“ she said.  “I think you’re cool.”  

“You’re pretty cool yourself,” he said.

Her face immediately flushed, and for a moment they simply sat there smiling at each other while sunlight danced through the autumn leaves outside and the sounds of the estate drifted faintly up through the branches.

Then Miranda’s attention drifted toward the main house. Across the way, in an upstairs window, Ethan stood watching them. The moment she noticed him, her smile faded slightly.

Today

Miranda shook the vision away, glancing at Tiger with a troubled expression. She clicked the doors of the SUV unlocked and climbed into the driver’s seat. 

* * *

Blake slammed his shoulder into the weakened section of the wall one more time.

The remaining drywall cracked and gave way, opening a jagged hole large enough for him to see into the hallway beyond. Wooden framing still separated the conservatory from the rest of the house, and the chain around his ankle prevented him from getting very far. But at least he’d broken through the soundproof wall.

His heart began pounding. “Help!” he shouted, grabbing the exposed framework and shaking it violently. “Help! Somebody help me!”

Outside, Sadie was approaching the back door carrying a lunch tray when the sound reached her. She froze. “No, no, no, no no,” she said as the tray slipped from her hands and crashed onto the patio.

Blake’s voice echoed again. “Help!”

Panic overtook her. She sprinted through the house and burst into the conservatory. The moment she saw the hole in the wall, the color drained from her face.

He turned toward her. “It’s over, Sadie.”

She rushed him before he could say anything else. Blake tried to push past her, but the chain yanked him backward. They struggled for several seconds until Sadie’s hand landed on a heavy ceramic planter sitting nearby. Without thinking, she swung it.

The planter struck the side of Blake’s head and he collapsed instantly. For a moment Sadie simply stared at what she’d done. Then she turned and ran.

Once outside, her pulse pounded so hard she could barely hear anything else. Every thought in her head collided with another as panic threatened to overwhelm her completely.

Soon everyone would find out the truth about what she’d done. The police would come and take her away again, and that was something she refused to let happen.

Breathless, she finally stopped near the edge of the pool deck and turned back toward the house. That was when she noticed the sky. In the distance, she could see the silhouette of a burning palm tree. As she watched, several flaming fronds broke free from the crown and floated downward through the smoky air, glowing like fire-tipped feathers as they drifted toward the earth.

Something shifted behind her eyes.

For several moments she stood completely still, watching the burning pieces descend from the sky. Then a thought entered her mind. Fire destroyed things. It erased mistakes.

The panic that had consumed her moments earlier began to fade, replaced by a strange sense of clarity. A slow smile spread across her face as she looked back toward the house, toward the conservatory, and toward the problem that had suddenly become much simpler.

Everything that had gone wrong could disappear, and all it would take was a spark.

* * *

The weight room at Equinox West Hollywood pulsed with music, guttural grunts, and the clatter of weights hitting racks. Sheldon sat at an incline bench near the mirrored wall, finishing a set of bench presses when a familiar voice drifted beside him.

“Well, this is a nice surprise.”

Sheldon looked up to find Travis standing nearby in a gray tank top darkened with sweat from his workout, a water bottle dangling loosely from one hand. A blue Dodgers cap sat low over his damp hair while a pair of Beats headphones rested up off his ears. 

“Travis,” Sheldon said evenly, setting the weights down. “In your element, I see.” 

Travis grinned, his skin flushed from lifting. “You always look so thrilled to see me.”

Sheldon shook his head faintly.

Travis leaned casually against the equipment beside him. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine.”

“Good to hear.”

Sheldon grabbed his towel and wiped his face. “What about you?”

“Really good, actually,” Travis shrugged dramatically. “Working for your dad at Titan has me busy as fuck lately.”

Sheldon rolled his eyes. “That might have something to do with all the clients he’s stealing from Blake’s brothers’ wife.” 

“Hey, he’s your dad, not mine,” Travis said with a shrug. “You saying you can’t control him?” 

That got the smallest hint of amusement from Sheldon.

Travis noticed immediately. “There it is,” he said. “I knew you had emotions somewhere in there.”

Sheldon stood, moving toward the free weights while Travis followed.

After another moment of casual chatter, Travis finally asked, “So how’s Blake?”

Sheldon’s expression shifted slightly. “I wouldn’t know.”

Travis blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It means he left town and didn’t tell me.”

The flirtation eased a notch as Travis studied him more carefully now. “Wait… seriously?”

Sheldon nodded, grabbing another set of weights. “Seriously.”

“What happened?”

“He said he needed to clear his head.” Sheldon gave a humorless laugh under his breath. “So as far as I’m concerned, as of now, I’m a free agent.”

Travis hesitated for a second before a slow grin spread across his face. “Well, fuck,” he said lightly, stepping a little closer, “then maybe it’s time you finally give me what I’ve been begging for for months.”

Sheldon should have walked away. Instead, less than five minutes later, Travis had him backed against the tiled wall of a shower stall in the locker room, steam curling around them while overhead speakers blasted Orgy’s cover of Blue Monday, the pulsing industrial beat vibrating faintly through the walls.

Following Travis’s lead, Sheldon turned toward the shower wall as Travis pressed against his back, kissing along his neck with playful aggression, occasionally catching his shoulder lightly with his teeth while reaching around and stroking his already-hard cock. 

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” Sheldon said, the warm spray of the shower raining over him. 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Travis said almost to himself as he slid into Sheldon’s ass. 

For the first time in days, maybe longer, Sheldon stopped thinking about Blake, the note, the confusion, all of it dissolving beneath the heat and noise and Travis’s attention.

* * *

The door to the pool house opened and Sadie emerged carrying a utility knife and a cigarette lighter. Betsy immediately rose from her bed and watched her closely.

“Stay here,” Sadie said.

Betsy took a step toward the door.

“I mean it.”

The dog responded with a low growl.

For a moment neither moved. Then Betsy reluctantly settled back onto the floor, though her eyes never left Sadie. Satisfied, Sadie stepped outside and pulled the screen door shut behind her.

The panic that had consumed her earlier had vanished completely. In its place was the same unsettling calm that always seemed to settle over her whenever she convinced herself she was fixing a problem.

She walked over to the pool and stopped beneath one of the tall palm trees lining the patio. Reaching upward, she grabbed a low-hanging frond and sawed through its stem until it finally broke free. The dried leaf crackled in her hands.

Carrying it beneath one arm, Sadie made her way toward the attached garage at the main house. The structure was old and cluttered, filled with years of accumulated tools, paint cans, gardening supplies, and forgotten storage boxes.

She stepped inside and looked around. Near one wall sat a metal bucket overflowing with oily rags and stained shop towels. Beside it were several cardboard boxes and a stack of old newspapers.

Sadie smiled and flicked open the lighter. The first attempt failed. The second produced only a brief flare before dying. Growing impatient, she tried again. This time the dried palm leaves caught immediately. A small orange flame appeared near the tip and began crawling through the brittle fronds.

Sadie crouched and carefully laid the burning palm branch beside the bucket of oily rags. For a moment nothing happened. Then one of the rags began to smolder. A thin ribbon of smoke rose into the air. The dark spot spread slowly before suddenly blooming into flame.

Sadie watched as the fire crept from rag to rag and began licking at the nearby cardboard boxes. The orange glow reflected in her eyes. Satisfied, she turned and walked back outside. Behind her, the fire continued to grow.

On the opposite side of the house, Blake still lay unconscious, unaware of the impending disaster that was closer than anyone knew.

* * *

Heather sat at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of coffee while Suzanne moved restlessly through the condo, unable to settle for more than a few seconds at a time. From the floors above, the sudden shriek of buzz saws and the brutal pounding of jackhammers tore through the ceiling, filling the room with a grinding, metallic racket.

“That noise again!” Heather shouted over it, clamping her hands over her ears. “How long are these building renovations supposed to go on?”

Suzanne sighed. “I’d like to know that myself.” She crossed to the long window seat across the room and pulled open the deep storage drawer built beneath it.

Heather glanced over. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for a charger.” Suzanne rummaged through a collection of old blankets, photo albums, and miscellaneous items. “I know I threw one in here at some point.”

“Mom, you own like thirty chargers.”

“And somehow can never find one when I need it.”

After a moment, she gave up, shoved the drawer closed, and returned to the sofa.

Heather watched her for another second. “Any more run-ins with Mickey?”

Suzanne immediately shook her head. “No. And no calls or texts.”  She wrapped her arms around herself. “I still keep expecting him to show up somewhere.”

“Well, maybe he’s finally gotten the picture.”

“I hope so,” Suzanne said. “I was getting so scared that last night James came by and gave me a—” She stopped when a series of alerts sounded from her phone. The first alert was a fire warning—smoke advisories issued across the entire city. But the next notification froze her completely. “Oh no.”

Heather immediately sat forward “What?”

Suzanne stared at the screen. “Oh no, no, no.”

Heather crossed the room. “Mom, what is it?”

Suzanne turned the phone toward her. The headline was from TMZ. A large photograph showed Suzanne and Lara facing each other on Rodeo Drive moments before the confrontation escalated. Both women looked furious.

Heather groaned. “Wonderful.”

Suzanne quickly began reading.

SOAP DIVAS FACE OFF IN TRUE RHOBH FASHION

The article continued: Lara Devon, star of the hit 1990s teen drama Malibu High, and Suzanne Rogers, film and daytime soap actress turned self-help author, were involved in a heated public confrontation on Rodeo Drive yesterday that ended with Rogers hitting Devon in front of stunned onlookers…

Another photograph showed the exact moment after the slap.

Suzanne lowered the phone in horror. “This is the last thing I need.”

Heather took the phone and scrolled. “TMZ’s calling you a Real Housewife.”

“That is not helping.”

“Sorry,” Heather replied.

Suzanne dropped heavily onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. “I feel bad enough about what happened without it going viral. Now everyone’s going to think I’m sleeping with James.”

Heather continued reading the article. “It’ll blow over.”

Suzanne groaned while outside the windows the city continued moving as always, her latest public humiliation already spreading across the internet.

* * *

A secluded booth tucked into a quiet corner of the Polo Lounge at The Beverly Hills Hotel was the last place Lara expected to find herself that afternoon.

She spotted Mickey immediately. Dressed in dark slacks and an open-collar shirt, he sat alone with a drink in front of him. She composed herself despite the fact that she’d nearly turned around and left twice before finally approaching the table.

Sliding into the booth across from him, Lara fixed him with a suspicious look. “Do you care to tell me why you’ve summoned me here?” she asked. “I can’t imagine what the two of us have to talk about.”

A faint smile touched Mickey’s face. “Good to see you too.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries.”

“Fair enough.” He took a sip from his drink before setting the glass down. “Do you care for a drink?”

Her gaze lingered on his for a few moments before slowly shaking her head. 

Mickey shrugged. “Right to business then,” he said. “Lara, we have something in common.”

Lara laughed. “I sincerely doubt that.”

“Do you?” Mickey leaned back slightly. “I love Suzanne. You love James. Unfortunately, Suzanne and James seem far more interested in each other than either of us.”

The bluntness caught her off guard. For a moment, Lara simply stared at him, then a flash of anger crossed her face. “You don’t know anything about my marriage.”

“I know enough,” he replied calmly. “James spends his time running to Suzanne whenever she has a problem. Suzanne calls him whenever she’s frightened. They’re becoming each other’s first phone call, and that’s never a good sign.”

Lara looked away, hating how familiar that sounded.

Mickey watched her carefully. “Meanwhile, you’re sitting back and letting it happen.”

Her eyes immediately snapped back to him. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting that if you want to keep your husband, you need to be more of a fighter.”

The remark visibly irritated her. “You think I haven’t fought for my marriage?”

“I think you’ve spent weeks reacting to events instead of shaping them,” Mickey said. “Every move you’ve made has been out of fear of losing your husband.” 

Lara folded her arms. “Then enlighten me.”

Mickey leaned forward slightly. “Do whatever you have to do to keep him.”

The bluntness of the statement made her stare at him. “That’s your advice?”

“It’s reality.”

Lara laughed humorlessly. “And what exactly do you get out of this?”

Mickey didn’t hesitate. “I get Suzanne back.”

That answer made her smile. “But Suzanne doesn’t want you. As a matter of fact, she’s terrified of you. I saw the way she sped away from you the other day outside the Ivy.”

A flicker of concern crossed Mickey’s face, but it vanished almost immediately. “Suzanne isn’t the problem. As long as James isn’t a threat, I have nothing to worry about.”

Lara studied him carefully. “You sound awfully confident.”

“Right now she’s scared. She’s confused. James is playing protector. That’s all this is.”

“And if it’s not?”

For the first time, something colder entered Mickey’s expression. “Then I deal with it.”

* * *

Sadie moved around inside the pool house with an unsettling calmness. On the muted television in the corner, a local news helicopter hovered over a hillside burning in thin orange veins. The lower-third warned of shifting winds and new flare-ups across the canyons, but Sadie wasn’t watching it. She methodically folded clothes and placed them into a suitcase.

The room looked as though a tornado had passed through it by the time Iris pulled into the driveway. She had barely climbed out of her car when something caught her attention.

Smoke. Not the distant haze hanging over Los Angeles. It was much closer. Iris turned and looked toward the main house. Her eyes widened. Flames were licking up one side of the garage, spreading into the eaves above it. Thick black smoke curled into the sky and, even as she watched, another section of the structure ignited.

“Oh my god!” She immediately broke into a run. “Sadie!”

Moments later she burst through the pool house door.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

Sadie looked up. “What do you mean, honey?”

“Mrs. Tremond’s house is on fire!”

Sadie glanced toward the window. “Oh, that,” she said. “The winds can really carry sparks. It’s scary.”

Her reaction was so casual that it immediately unsettled Iris.

“I already called 911,” Sadie added.

While Iris stood frozen in alarm, Sadie simply returned to packing suitcases, as though a burning house on the property were little more than an inconvenience.

“Okay, well, shouldn’t we do something? I mean, why aren’t they here yet?  When did you call?”

“I don’t remember. A few minutes ago, I think.”

Iris stared at her, infuriated by her calmness. “Sadie—”

Meanwhile, Sadie didn’t stop packing. “Anyway, we have to get out of here.”

“Why?” Iris asked, glancing toward the television. “Because of the fires?”

“Yes. The fires, the energy, all of it.” Sadie resumed stuffing clothes into a suitcase. “We have to go.”

“Wait, Sadie!”

“We can go somewhere else. Sedona. Santa Fe. Anywhere.”

Iris folded her arms. “You’re not making any sense.”

Before Sadie could respond, Iris turned and walked back toward the screen door. She pushed the door open and stepped outside, gazing up at the main house.  The fire had grown noticeably in the last few minutes. What had started in the garage was now spreading quickly. Flames climbed the exterior wall and licked beneath the roofline while smoke rolled into the sky. 

At that exact moment, something moved behind her. Betsy. The German shepherd sprang to her feet and bolted through the open screen door and raced across the yard.

“Betsy!” Iris called in a panic.

The dog didn’t even slow down. Instead, she headed straight toward the burning house.

“Oh no.” Iris immediately ran after her. “Betsy, come back!”

Behind her, Sadie’s face drained of color. “Iris!”

But Iris was already sprinting across the property.

Sadie rushed after her. “Iris! No! It’s too dangerous!”

She ignored her and continued toward the main house.

“Don’t go inside that house!” Sadie yelled again. 

The warning only made Iris move faster.

Smoke was pouring from the garage now, and as she rounded the corner she could see flames spreading along one side of the structure. Fire crawled beneath the eaves and flickered through several windows, transforming the familiar house into something unrecognizable.

Inside the conservatory, Blake remained unconscious, smoke beginning to seep in through ventilation ducts.

* * *

By the time they left the production offices for lunch, the sun had all but disappeared behind the smoke drifting in from the wildfires.

“I appreciate the help today,” Keaton said as they crossed toward his car.

Phoebe smiled. “You’ve said that three times already. It’s really no big deal. It was either this or go help Kelly pack up the agency, and that sounds too depressing.”

As they climbed inside, he glanced over at her. “If I tell you something, would you promise not to tell Kelly?”

Her expression shifted slightly. “Umm, sure.”

“I haven’t told anyone this yet, but I’m planning to propose to Kelly this weekend.”

Phoebe felt her stomach drop. “Really?”

Keaton smiled with excitement. “I’ve got a cabin booked in Big Bear. I figured we’d get away for a couple days, take a break from all this wildfire craziness, and then I’ll ask her.”

For a moment, Phoebe simply stared at him. “Wow.”

“Good wow or bad wow?”

“Good wow,” she said quickly. “Definitely good wow.”

“You think she’ll say yes?”

Phoebe looked out the windshield. “Of course she will.”

Keaton smiled to himself and started the car. “That’s what I’m hoping.”

As they pulled out of the lot, he talked about rings, timing, and how difficult it had been keeping the secret. Phoebe listened and nodded in all the right places, but a strange heaviness had settled in her chest.

She should have been happy. Kelly was her sister, and Keaton was exactly the kind of man she deserved. He was thoughtful, dependable, and endlessly patient. Phoebe knew that firsthand. He always seemed to know when she needed encouragement, including after her breakdown the other day when he’d sat with her and listened without judgment.

This was exactly what she should want.

Instead, she found herself staring out the passenger window, wondering why the news felt so disappointing.

* * *

By the time Iris reached the back door, Betsy was waiting for her. The dog barked once and immediately took off inside, leading her toward the conservatory.

“Iris!” Sadie shouted again.

But Iris was already moving. The moment she stepped inside the house, she was hit by a wall of heat and smoke. She immediately raised an arm over her nose and mouth. The fire was no longer confined to the garage. It was inside, and spreading fast. Coughing, Iris hurried after Betsy through the increasingly smoky corridor.

“Betsy!”

The dog disappeared into the conservatory.

Iris followed and pushed through the door. Then she stopped. For a brief moment, the fire disappeared from her mind entirely. Blake was lying unconscious on the floor, a chain wrapped around his ankle and bolted to a support beam.

Betsy darted to his side and immediately began licking his face.

“Oh my god!” Iris rushed forward and dropped beside him.

Moments later Sadie appeared in the doorway, breathing hard from the run. She stopped short. “What the—? How did he get in here?” she asked in an attempt to sound surprised.

Before Iris could say anything, Blake groaned and his eyes fluttered open. The first thing he saw was Betsy. The second was Iris. Relief flooded across his face.

“Iris,” he said weakly, coughing from the smoke.

“Blake, what happened?”

“Thank god.” He struggled into a sitting position. “Your sister is crazy.”

“Blake—” Sadie warned and took a step toward him.

Betsy lifted her head and gave a low warning growl, her eyes fixed on Sadie.

“She locked me in here,” he said, pointing directly at her. “For over a week. She lied about having cancer, and when she thought I was going to tell you, she drugged me and chained me up in this soundproof room.”

“That’s not true,” Sadie snapped. “He’s confused.”

“Then explain this.” Blake lifted the chain attached to his ankle.

Iris stared at the shackle, then at the hole in the wall, then back at her sister. “Sadie…” she said, coughing and squinting as smoke burned her eyes. 

“He’s manipulating you, honey bunny.” Sadie’s voice turned soft and coaxing, almost wounded. “I’m your sister. Who are you going to believe? Another Hollywood nepo baby, or someone you’ve known your entire life?”

A loud crack echoed from somewhere deeper inside the house. All three of them looked toward the doorway. The smoke was noticeably thicker now.

“Stop,” Blake groaned, coughing again. “Just stop. Where’s the key to the shackle?”

For a moment, Sadie seemed to deflate, all the frantic certainty draining out of her at once. Her eyes filled with tears, her mouth trembled, and the performance collapsed into something rawer.

“I did this for you,” Sadie cried, desperation breaking through her voice.

Iris frowned. “For me?”

“You were going to turn your back on me!” The words exploded out of her. “What was I supposed to do? I ruined your career and you were never going to forgive me! I had to think of something to get you to stay!”

Neither Blake nor Iris said anything. Smoke continued creeping through the open doorway.

“You were going to leave me,” Sadie continued, her voice breaking.

The silence that followed was devastating. Then another crash sounded somewhere inside the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. This time even Sadie jumped. 

Blake looked toward the doorway and saw flames briefly flicker at the far end of the corridor beyond. His stomach tightened. The fire was getting close.

“Sadie, the key!” he shouted, gesturing to the chain shackled to his ankle.

“It’s okay,” Iris said quickly, trying to keep her own panic under control. “Sadie called 911. The fire department is on the way.”

Blake stared at her. “Then where are they?”

No one answered. The question hung in the smoke-filled air. Slowly, Blake turned toward Sadie. Iris followed his gaze. For a moment, Sadie tried to maintain her composure but the guilt on her face was unmistakable.

Iris’s eyes widened. “You didn’t call them.”

Sadie swallowed.

“Sadie?” The realization hit Iris all at once. “You didn’t call anybody.”

“Oh my god.” Blake stared at her in disbelief. “You started this fire.”

“No,” Sadie said weakly.

“Sadie?” Iris said.

“I didn’t mean—” she began.

“You started it,” Blake repeated. “You chained me up in here. Then when I tried to escape, you tried to burn the house down with me still inside?”

Tears streamed down Sadie’s face. 

And suddenly Blake understood something far more frightening than Sadie’s confession. He was still chained to the wall. And the fire was almost on top of them. “Give me the keys!” he shouted to Sadie.  

She looked at him and then at Iris, her hands folded nervously before her. 

“The keys, Sadie!” Blake screamed. “Where are the keys?”

For a moment, she didn’t move. Then her eyes drifted toward a decorative cabinet in the corner of the conservatory, well beyond the reach of Blake’s chain.

Another crash echoed through the house. Smoke rolled through the doorway in a thick wave, forcing all three of them into another fit of coughing.

Finally, Sadie crossed the room.

“Sadie!” Iris snapped. “Hurry up!”

Ignoring her, Sadie reached behind a ceramic planter sitting atop the cabinet and retrieved a small key, then gave it to Iris.  

“Hand me your phone!” Blake said to Iris. 

Iris quickly pulled it from her pocket and handed it over before kneeling down and attempting to unlock the shackle from Blake’s ankle.

With trembling fingers, Blake dialed 911.

As the phone rang, smoke rolled into the conservatory in another thick wave. Iris covered her mouth and coughed. Blake did the same. Even Betsy seemed agitated now, pacing and whining as the room grew hazier by the second.

A moment later the call connected. “Yes,” Blake said. “I’d like to report a kidnapping.”

He coughed hard and struggled to continue. “The house is on fire.” Another cough interrupted him. “Please send the fire department.”

Just then, Iris got the shackle free of Blake’s leg and helped him to his feet.  

A deep groan rolled through the structure, followed by a shower of dust drifting down from somewhere overhead. The fire was nearly on top of them. 

Sadie’s face went pale as she stood there while Iris’s gaze lingered on her like she was some kind of monster. This wasn’t something she could explain away with crystals or herbs or a sound bath. This was the end of the line.

* * *

The smoky haze from the wildfires was visible through the kitchen windows as Miranda sat at the counter looking over stacks of bills from the agency.

“Mom?”

Miranda looked over.

Tiger was standing in the doorway. “Can I spend the night at Julie’s tomorrow?”

Miranda immediately shook her head. “No. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“With these fires? Absolutely not.”

Tiger groaned. “Mom, Julie’s house is like ten minutes away.”

“I don’t care if it’s ten feet away. I’d rather you stay home.”

Tiger folded her arms. “This is ridiculous.”

Miranda sighed. She understood the frustration. If she had been Tiger’s age, she’d have felt exactly the same way.

“Tell you what,” she said. “We’ll see how things look tomorrow. If the fires aren’t any worse and everything seems okay, you can spend the night.”

Tiger brightened immediately. She hurried off before Miranda could reconsider.

The moment she disappeared upstairs, Eddie looked over at his wife. “You’re too easy on her.”

Miranda laughed. “I said maybe.”

“You said maybe in the same tone most people say yes. You just don’t want another battle on your hands.” 

“Can you blame me?” Miranda sing-songed as she turned back to the sink. 

* * *

The front drive of Mrs. Tremond’s estate was crowded with police cars and firetrucks, their lights pulsing against the hedges and white stucco walls as firefighters dragged hoses across the gravel and worked to beat back the fire.

Near the pool house, two officers stood with Iris and Blake, taking statements while a pair of paramedics continued treating them. Both sat on the rear bumper of an ambulance with oxygen masks covering their faces, smoke inhalation having taken enough of a toll that neither was being allowed to wander far. Blake looked exhausted, pale beneath the scruff that had grown in during his captivity, while Iris still coughed occasionally as a paramedic checked her vitals.

Across the drive, Sadie sat in the back of a squad car with her hands cuffed in front of her, staring blankly through the window.

A silver Mercedes SL convertible came whipping up the drive and braked hard behind the police vehicles. Sheldon was out almost before the engine died, crossing the gravel in three long strides.

Blake looked up just in time to see him.

“Oh my god.” Without hesitation, Sheldon wrapped his arms around him.

The movement nearly knocked the oxygen mask loose.

“I can’t believe this,” Sheldon breathed. “I can’t believe you were here all along.”

For a second, Blake simply sat there, stunned by the force of the embrace. Then he reached up and pulled the mask aside long enough to hug him back. “I’m so glad to see you,” he said, relief flooding through him.

Sheldon finally pulled back, his eyes searching Blake’s face as if reassuring himself he was really there. “I thought you left,” he admitted. “I thought you actually left me.”

Blake shook his head. “You know I’d never leave you.”

The words hit Sheldon hard. Guilt flickered across his face before he could hide it, and his eyes dropped briefly toward the ground as his mind drifted back to the shower at the gym.

Beside them, a paramedic gently reclaimed Blake’s oxygen mask. “Keep this on,” she said. “You’ve inhaled enough smoke for one day.”

Blake didn’t argue. He slipped the mask back into place, his gaze never leaving Sheldon.

Behind them, one of the officers closed his notebook and went back to the squad car. His partner was already behind the wheel. Sadie shifted in the backseat, watching them all through the glass with a strange, wounded intensity.

Sheldon glanced toward her. “What’s going to happen to her?”

Iris didn’t answer right away. Her eyes stayed on the squad car. “She’ll probably go back to the sanitarium,” she said finally.

Blake and Sheldon both turned to look at her. “Back to?” Blake asked. “What are you talking about?”

Iris swallowed hard. “A few years ago, back in Edmonton,” Iris said, barely above a whisper, “Sadie had a breakdown. She just wasn’t in touch with reality. She became fixated on this guy—a real sleazeball producer type.”

Blake stared at her.

“He treated her like garbage,” Iris said. “And when it ended, she freaked. She stalked him, and the new woman he was seeing. Anyway, it ended badly and they institutionalized her.”

Sheldon’s expression changed. “Iris—”

“I thought it was behind her,” Iris said, her voice breaking. “I thought we were past it. I never thought she’d go back to that dark place.”

Her gaze moved to Blake then, full of regret.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “This is my fault. I should have seen the signs. I should have known. I never should have put you in danger.”

Blake didn’t seem to know what to say. Sheldon stayed close beside him, one hand still resting against Blake’s back protectively.

The squad car started forward, tires crunching over the gravel as it pulled away from the house. For a moment, Sadie’s face remained visible through the rear window, pale and watchful.

Then, as the car passed them, her voice suddenly rose from inside.

“You both have incredibly aggressive Mars placements,” Sadie snapped at the officers. “I can feel it. Your auras are like rusted steak knives.”

The officers stared straight ahead.

“I need your birth dates and times so I can map your birth charts,” she continued, louder now. “Both of you. Immediately. This entire arrest has been conducted under a catastrophic lunar influence.”

The squad car rolled farther down the drive.

“And do not touch my crystals!” Sadie shouted, her voice fading with the engine. “They are evidence of your spiritual misalignment!”

Blake, Sheldon, and Iris stood in silence as the car disappeared beyond the gates, and for the first time all morning, Blake almost laughed.