Last time on L.A. Connections…

Wildfires crept closer and panic spread across the city as Jane gave birth to a baby girl. Phoebe found herself working in close quarters with Keaton at American Star and opening up about her troubling past with her former psychiatrist, now her mother’s husband. Keaton stunned Phoebe with his plan to propose to Kelly, even as Phoebe made romantic plans of her own with Riley. Miranda was pulled back into unsettling memories of a flirtation with Nico when she was only fourteen. Suzanne was left reeling when her vicious fight with Lara exploded across the internet, and Mickey urged Lara to fight harder for James. Blake’s desperate escape attempt ended with Sadie knocking him unconscious, setting the house on fire, and trying to flee with Iris—until Betsy led Iris back inside, where she found Blake trapped in the conservatory and freed him before Sadie was finally taken away by police.

* * *

By early evening, smoke pressed low over the basin, turning glass towers into shadows and swallowing the hills behind a dirty orange veil. The fire lines had splintered and multiplied through the afternoon, one front moving toward the estates above Sunset, another dropping embers into pockets around Benedict Canyon and Mulholland. Traffic crawled beneath a bruised sky as evacuation zones widened, canyon roads closed, and helicopters hammered overhead with water buckets swinging beneath them.

The formal dining room at the Blackthorne mansion felt unusually quiet that evening, even with the distant sound of helicopters passing over the estate, low enough to make the crystal tremble faintly on the table. 

A half-finished dinner sat between James, Ethan, and Lara while the household staff moved discreetly around them, refilling water glasses and clearing plates before disappearing into the background. For several minutes, conversation had been limited to little more than basic observations about the fires and long stretches of silence.

Finally, Ethan set down his wine glass. “I stopped by the hospital this afternoon and saw Stormy and Jane’s baby.”

James immediately looked up. His face brightened in a way it rarely had lately. “She’s a doll,” he said warmly. “And doing very well, from what I understand. They’ll have her home in no time.”

For a moment, the tension in the room eased. 

Then Lara spoke. “I would’ve liked to go.”

The warmth immediately vanished.

James looked across the table at her. “What?”

“To the hospital.” Her voice remained calm, but only barely. “I would’ve liked to see my granddaughter. You just never told me you were going.”

James exhaled heavily. “Lara—”

“No.” She shook her head. “Go ahead. Tell me I’m overreacting.”

Ethan immediately found his plate fascinating.

James set down his fork. “Can you honestly blame me? Things haven’t exactly been copacetic between us lately.”

Lara’s eyes flashed. “So that’s it. You don’t have to say it.” Her voice rose slightly. “You just want me out.”

James closed his eyes briefly. “Lara—”

“You’ve already moved on.”

“That’s enough.”

She pushed back from the table so abruptly her chair nearly tipped over. In the motion, her hand closed around the steak knife beside her plate, more from agitation than intent, her fingers tightening around it without seeming to realize.

“I am still part of this family whether you like it or not.”

The room fell silent. For a moment, it looked as though James might respond, but his eyes had dropped to the knife in her hand.

Lara didn’t notice. Or if she did, she gave no sign of it. She simply turned and strode from the dining room, the blade hanging loosely at her side.

A few seconds later, they heard her crossing the foyer, then climbing the grand staircase. The slam of a bedroom door echoed faintly through the house.

Ethan slowly took a sip of wine. “Should I pretend I wasn’t here for that?”

James stared down at his untouched dinner, then toward the empty doorway. “At this point,” he said tiredly, “I’m not sure it would’ve made any difference.”

* * *

Natalie waited until evening to return to the apartment in hopes that Steve would be at work and she wouldn’t have to see him. But when she stepped into the apartment, Steve was sitting on the sofa waiting for her.

He stood the moment she walked in. “Natalie, please. Just listen to me.”

She dropped her purse onto the counter and shook her head. “No. I can’t even look at you.”

“Natalie—”

“No.” She turned to face him. “You know exactly what I went through when I found out about Riley’s indiscretions. You were there. You watched me fall apart. You watched me question everything about myself.”

“Natalie, this isn’t the same thing.”

“Isn’t it?” she shot back. “You knew how much it hurt me. You knew what that betrayal felt like. So how could you turn around and do the same thing to me?”

Steve looked away. “It was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Natalie laughed bitterly. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“It happened once.”

“And is that what you’re into now? Fireroasting?”

Steve blinked. “Spitroasting.”

Natalie stared at him. “You’re correcting me?”

“That’s not the point.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t some lifestyle thing. Nico had some coke, we were getting ready for the dinner rush, and there was this redhead he’d brought around. Everybody was drinking. Everybody was high. Things got out of hand.”

Natalie folded her arms and glared ruefully at him. “Yes. I’m familiar with the redhead.”

Steve winced.

“And you’re doing cocaine now?” she asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know.” He sounded exhausted. “Stupid. It was stupid.”

Natalie shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

Steve looked down. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Nat. I swear.”

Natalie laughed sadly. The sound surprised even her. “You know what?” she said. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“What doesn’t?”

She wiped at her eyes. “Us.”

Steve frowned. “Natalie—”

“No. Listen to me. I’ve spent the last day thinking about what happened. Thinking about us.” She shook her head. “And the truth is, I don’t think I ever loved you the way I was supposed to.”

The words visibly stunned him. “What?”

“I cared about you. I still do. But when I really look back on it…” She swallowed. “You were a device I used to get over Riley.”

Steve stared at her. “Natalie, that’s not true.”

“It is.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “And it wasn’t fair to you. But when Riley and I fell apart, I was hurt and angry and embarrassed. Then you came along and you were safe. You were kind. You wanted me.”

“Natalie, stop.”

“The truth is, I never really got over Riley. I think part of me was trying to convince myself that if I was with you eventually those feelings would disappear.”

“And did they?”

Natalie looked away. “No,” she said. “But it’s too late. Too much has happened, and Riley and I can never work. But that also doesn’t mean that you and I do.”

Finally he whispered, “I don’t want to lose you.”

Natalie’s expression softened. The tragedy was that she believed him, but she also knew it didn’t matter anymore. “You never really had me.”

Then she walked past him and disappeared into the bedroom.

* * *

The lights in Jane’s hospital room had been dimmed for the evening, leaving the space quiet except for the soft beeping of monitors and the distant sounds of nurses moving through the maternity ward.

Beyond the closed door, the maternity ward had grown busier as the night went on. Nurses moved briskly past with clipped conversations about smoke inhalation cases in the ER, road closures near the canyons, and whether the wind was expected to shift before morning. 

Stormy sat beside her bed with one hand wrapped around hers while Jane rested against the pillows. For a long moment neither of them spoke. They both knew what tomorrow was.

Finally, Jane broke the silence. “I’m sorry.”

Stormy looked up immediately. “For what?”

A faint smile touched her lips. “I’m supposed to be standing beside you tomorrow in that courtroom.”

He shook his head. “No. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. Your job is to focus on yourself and the baby. That’s it. I’ll be fine. My whole family will be there. Mom and Dad, Miranda, even Ethan.” 

Jane looked back at him. “That isn’t the same. I mean, what if you…” She stopped and swallowed hard. “What if they…”

Stormy already knew where the thought was headed.

Jane’s eyes filled with tears. “What if the next time I see you is on visitation day in prison?”

Stormy looked down for a moment before reaching up and brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Hey. Look at me. I am not going anywhere.”

Jane met his eyes. “You don’t know that.”

Stormy leaned forward slightly, his voice calm despite the fear churning inside him.

“I won’t let that happen.”

She stared at him.

“You hear me?” he said softly. “I’m coming home.”

Jane wanted desperately to believe him. Stormy leaned over and kissed her forehead before settling back into his chair. Neither of them were willing to say aloud just how frightened they both were about what tomorrow might bring.

* * *

The visitation room was small, sterile, and painfully quiet. Sadie sat at the table in an orange jail uniform, her wrists cuffed and attached to a restraint belt around her waist. Shackles circled her ankles as well, and when she shifted in her chair, the chains rattled softly.

“These things are really uncomfortable,” she muttered.

Iris stared at her across the table. “Imagine how Blake felt.”

The remark immediately silenced her.

For several moments neither woman spoke. Sadie looked exhausted and smaller somehow, stripped of all the certainty and eccentric confidence she usually carried around with her. Under different circumstances, Iris might have felt sorry for her. Now she felt nothing but anger.

“How could you do it?” she finally asked. “How could you do that to Blake?”

Sadie lowered her eyes. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“You drugged him, chained him to a post, and held him prisoner for over a week. Then you set the house on fire with him still inside.”

Tears immediately filled Sadie’s eyes.

“You actually thought you could kill him and get away with it?” Iris asked. “That I’d go off with you and you’d never have to face the consequences of your actions?”

Sadie looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

“What about the cancer?” Iris asked. “How could you lie about something like that?”

The shame on Sadie’s face was immediate. “I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Losing you.”

Iris let out a bitter laugh. “So your solution was to convince me you were dying?”

“I knew you’d stay if I was sick.”

“You made me believe you had cancer. You let me cry for you. You let me sit there thinking I was going to lose my sister.”

Tears rolled freely down Sadie’s cheeks. “I know.”

“No,” Iris said quietly. “I don’t think you do.”

The room fell silent again.

Finally, Iris took a breath and said, “I called Mommy. I told her everything.”

Sadie’s head snapped up. “What?” The fear that crossed her face was unmistakable. “No.”

“Yes.” Iris’s expression hardened. “And we both agreed that you should plead guilty. Don’t fight the charges.”

Sadie immediately shook her head. “No. Honey, I can’t.”

“If you cooperate, they’ll probably send you back to Meadow Haven for treatment instead of jail.”

“You just want me gone,” Sadie said, her eyes lowering to the table.

Iris stared at her for a long moment before standing. “You lied to me for months, you kidnapped one of the only friends I’ve made here, you nearly burned him alive, and you destroyed Mrs. Tremond’s home. At some point, Sadie, this stops being about your feelings and starts being about the people you’ve hurt.”

“Iris, please.”

She picked up her purse. “As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a sister anymore.”

Sadie looked as though she’d been physically struck. “Iris—”

But Iris was already walking toward the door.

A moment later she was gone, leaving Sadie alone with the chains around her wrists, the reality of what she’d done, and the knowledge that the one person she’d been so desperate not to lose had finally walked away.

* * *

The pool deck was quiet by the time Riley and Phoebe returned to the apartment complex. The courtyard smelled faintly of smoke now, and a light dusting of ash had collected along the edge of the pool, turning the water’s surface dull beneath the string lights. They walked side by side toward his apartment, still laughing about something from the movie neither could quite remember anymore.

“I still think you cried.”

“It was allergies.”

“In a movie theater?”

“Very aggressive allergies.”

Phoebe laughed and nudged his arm. As they approached Riley’s apartment, Natalie emerged from her and Steve’s place carrying a suitcase.

The laughter between Riley and Phoebe faded immediately. 

“Hey Nat, what’s going on?” Riley asked. 

Natalie adjusted the suitcase handle. “I moved out.”

Surprised, Riley raised his eyebrows. “What?”

Natalie shrugged as though she no longer had the energy to discuss it. “I’m just grabbing my stuff.”

“Where’d you move to?”

“A motel till I figure things out,” Natalie told him.

“What happened?”

A dozen emotions crossed Natalie’s face before she finally shook her head. “Forget it.” Her eyes drifted briefly toward Phoebe. “You’ve got your hands full.”

Before Riley could ask anything else, Natalie started toward the parking lot. For a moment they both watched her disappear into the darkness.

“Your ex, I’m assuming?” Phoebe said quietly.

“Yeah.” Riley looked troubled but ultimately shook his head and led her into his apartment. He glanced around and gave a self-conscious smile. “Sorry it’s not as nice as Kelly’s place.”

Phoebe looked around. “I like it. It feels like somebody actually lives here.”

That got a laugh from him. “Hopefully not for long,” he said. “I’ve been too busy preproduction on American Star to look for something else, but I think it’s time I move up in the world.”

For a moment neither spoke. The silence that followed felt surprisingly comfortable.

Riley smiled. “I had a really good time tonight.”

Phoebe felt herself smile back. “So did I.”

Their eyes met, and then Riley stepped closer and kissed her. Phoebe kissed him back immediately.

The nervousness she’d felt earlier vanished as they wrapped their arms around one another and continued kissing, neither quite ready for the evening to end. As they drifted deeper into the apartment together, the bedroom door quietly swung shut behind them.

* * *

The next morning, Phoebe slowly began to stir just as her phone buzzed, alerting her to an incoming text message. She reached for her phone on the nightstand and immediately saw a new text from Keaton.

Going to be at Stormy’s trial all day. Take the day off!

Phoebe smiled at first, then frowned. She had been looking forward to seeing him at the production office. It had become something of a routine lately.

Before she could stop herself, she started typing a response. After a moment, she deleted it and tossed the phone back onto the nightstand.

The bedroom door opened and Riley walked in carrying a tray loaded with coffee and breakfast, dressed only in a pair of boxers.

“Morning,” he said with a grin. “I made breakfast.”

Phoebe looked up. For some reason, the excitement she’d felt the night before had faded. “Morning.”

Riley set the tray down. “I was thinking we could take it easy today.”

“Actually, I should probably get going.”

His smile faltered. “Already?”

“Yeah.” She was already climbing out of bed. “Last night was great,” she said.

“It was.”

Phoebe smiled, but it felt forced.

After she left, Riley stood alone in the apartment, staring at the untouched breakfast while wondering why it suddenly felt like her mind had been somewhere else entirely.

* * *

By the time Eddie arrived at Blake’s house, he had already heard the story, but seeing everyone gathered there made it impossible to ignore how close the ordeal had come to ending very differently. Beneath the relief, an undercurrent of shock still lingered in the room.

Eddie sat in an armchair across from the sofa while Blake, Sheldon, and Iris occupied the seating area around the coffee table.

“I still can’t believe how close that was,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “If Betsy hadn’t gotten loose…”

“Don’t,” Blake replied quietly. “I’ve already replayed that part a hundred times.”

His hand unconsciously drifted toward the fading bruise near his temple where Sadie had struck him before returning to Betsy who lay protectively at his feet. “Between the kidnapping and the fire, I probably used up two of my lives this week.”

“Don’t say that,” Iris said immediately.

Blake offered her a faint smile. “I’m just being honest.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Even now it was difficult to think about everything that had happened without feeling unsettled.

Finally, Eddie looked toward Iris. “What will happen to Sadie now?”

Iris sighed. “She plead guilty.”

Blake and Sheldon exchanged a glance. “She did?”

Iris nodded.

“What happens now?” Eddie asked.

“She’ll be transferred back to Meadow Haven in Edmonton,” Iris continued. “The D.A. agreed she needs psychiatric treatment more than incarceration.”

No one spoke for a moment.

“Are you okay with that?” Blake finally asked.

“I have to be,” she said with a shrug. “She needs help. And I’m so sorry for what she did.”

Blake nodded politely. “You are not to blame for Sadie’s actions.”

She shook her head and fought back the sting of tears.

Across the room, Sheldon felt his phone vibrate. He glanced down and saw that it was a text from Travis. Just seeing the name made something tighten in his chest. Without opening the message, he deleted it, locked the screen and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Blake noticed. “Everything okay?”

Sheldon forced a smile. “Yeah.”

* * *

The offices of the Miranda Blackthorne Agency had been stripped bare, the movers having finished most of their work already. The framed photographs were gone. The artwork had disappeared from the walls. Desks that had once buzzed with clients and ringing phones had been reduced to empty patches in the carpet.

Miranda stood alone near the elevator bank with her purse resting against her shoulder.

She looked out across the vacant office one last time.

The conference room where they had celebrated new clients, her office, the bullpen. A faint smile touched her lips. There had been some good years, she recalled. Very good years.

Then she slowly exhaled and pressed the elevator call button. A moment later, the doors slid open. Miranda stepped inside and turned back toward the empty agency. For several seconds she simply stood there, taking it all in.

Then the elevator doors began to close. Miranda held her gaze on the deserted office until the very last sliver disappeared from view. A second later, the doors sealed shut and the elevator began its final descent.

* * *

The hallway outside the courtroom was already crowded when Stormy arrived with his attorney, Michael Larrabee.

Reporters lingered near the entrance while attorneys, clerks, and deputies moved through the courthouse. The atmosphere felt tense, though perhaps that was simply because Stormy knew exactly what was at stake.

Outside the courthouse windows, the midday sky had a yellow-gray cast, and several reporters kept glancing between Stormy’s case and the fire updates flashing across their phones. What had started as a few brush fires had become the story swallowing the city. 

Stormy’s family had gathered nearby. James stood talking quietly with Alex and Jordan while Heather, Kelly and Keaton occupied a bench against the wall. Ethan had arrived early as well, hands tucked into the pockets of his suit while he observed the growing crowd.

Stormy managed a faint smile. “Thank you all for coming. It really means a lot to me.”

“Of course we came,” Alex said and kissed his cheek.

A few moments later, Eddie appeared at the far end of the hallway and made his way toward them.

Stormy’s expression immediately brightened. “Hey man. Where’s Miranda?”

Eddie glanced around. “She was supposed to meet me here. She wanted to say goodbye to the agency, I guess. And then she was dropping Tiger off at a friend’s.”

Before Stormy could dwell on it, movement across the hallway caught his attention.

The prosecution had arrived. Seth Orr sat in the front row near the courtroom doors beside the deputy district attorney handling the case. The bruises and cuts on his face had healed considerably.

Just then, Amelia approached cautiously. “Stormy?”

He turned toward her. “Amelia, hi.”

For a moment she seemed unsure what to say. “I heard about the baby. I hope she and Jane are okay.”

“They are. Thank you.”

Amelia nodded. There was an awkward silence before she added: “For what it’s worth… I’m not with Seth anymore.”

Stormy’s eyebrows rose. “No?”

She shook her head. “No. Turns out everybody else was right.”

“About Seth?”

“About a lot of things.”

He smiled. “You’re going to be okay, don’t worry.”

She looked down for a moment. “I can’t believe the agency is closing.” 

Stormy nodded sullenly. “We can’t either.” 

Before either could continue, the courtroom doors opened and a deputy called for everyone to begin taking their seats. Carlo and Mickey slipped in just before the doors were closed.  

“I don’t see your brother anywhere,” Carlo said as they settled into two seats near the back of the courtroom. “I was very clear that I wanted this family united. Where is he?” 

“I don’t know, but if Nico says he’ll be here, he’ll be here,” Mickey replied, his gaze drifting toward James seated several rows ahead.

Then something else caught his attention. Across the courtroom, a woman sat alone dressed entirely in black, a dark veil obscuring her face. Mickey frowned. 

The courtroom settled into silence as everyone took their seats. Stormy sat beside his attorney at the defense table, his nerves stretching tighter with every passing second. Across the aisle, Seth Orr remained seated with the prosecution, looking considerably more confident than Stormy appreciated.

Judge Hawthorne entered a moment later, and everyone rose. After the customary formalities, the proceedings began. Deputy District Attorney Strausburg stood first.

“Your Honor, after further review of the evidence, the People have agreed to amend the charges in this matter.”

A ripple of attention moved through the courtroom. Stormy glanced toward Larrabee. The attorney’s expression was one of surprise.

Strausburg continued. “The felony charges previously filed against the defendant will be withdrawn. In their place, the People will proceed on a misdemeanor battery charge.”

For a moment, nobody moved. Then the tension seemed to leave the room all at once. James exhaled. Heather closed her eyes briefly in relief. Alex’s shoulders relaxed. At the defense table, Stormy felt as though someone had lifted a thousand pounds from his chest.

The judge adjusted his glasses and looked toward the defense. “Mr. Blackthorne, do you understand the amended charge?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“And how do you plead?”

Stormy glanced toward Larrabee who gave a small nod.

Stormy stood. “Guilty, Your Honor.”

The judge studied him for a moment before speaking. “Mr. Blackthorne, while the court recognizes that this incident arose under emotionally charged circumstances, violence remains unacceptable.”

Stormy nodded. “I understand.”

“Given the amended charge, your lack of prior criminal history, and the agreement reached by both parties, this court sentences you to two years of probation, completion of an approved anger management program, and payment of all applicable fines and fees.”

The words washed over him.

“You are further ordered to obey all laws and comply with the conditions of your supervision.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

The judge nodded. “Case closed,” he said as the gavel came down.

Immediately, a wave of relief swept through the Blackthorne family. Stormy closed his eyes briefly and let out a breath he felt as though he’d been holding for weeks. They started filing out of the courtroom when Carlo approached and leaned in.  

“That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

Stormy’s stomach tightened.

“It pays to know people,” he continued softly. “More importantly, it pays to know their weaknesses.” His eyes briefly settled on the district attorney. “Just ask Mr. Strausburg.”

Stormy forced himself not to react. He glanced toward his family, making certain none of them had noticed the conversation.

The smile on Carlo’s face widened slightly. “You have a beautiful wife and a beautiful new daughter.” His voice remained warm, almost grandfatherly. “Enjoy this time with them.”

Stormy met his eyes.

Then Carlo leaned in one last time. “Because very soon, we’ll be asking for something in return.”

With that, he patted Stormy lightly on the shoulder and walked away, disappearing into the crowd while the celebration continued around them.

* * *

The guest room felt smaller with every passing minute. Lara paced from one side of the room to the other, a half-empty crystal decanter of vodka sitting atop the dresser. Her thoughts kept circling back to Mickey’s words to her the day before.

“Suzanne isn’t the problem.”

“As long as James isn’t a threat, I have nothing to worry about.”

Lara stopped abruptly and shook her head. “No.” She stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Suzanne is the problem.”

None of this had started until she’d gone away to rehab, leaving Suzanne free to slide into the empty space she’d left behind. Every terrible thing that had happened since then seemed to trace back to the same woman.

A strangled sound escaped her throat as she turned and collapsed onto the bed. Tears spilled freely now as she buried her face in a pillow. “This isn’t fair,” she sobbed.

The words dissolved into angry, incoherent cries. She rolled onto her back, then onto her side, twisting the sheets in her fists. One moment she was crying, the next she was shouting at an empty room.

“I am his wife!” The outburst echoed off the walls.

Mickey’s words continued to replay in her mind:

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

Suddenly, she twisted off the bed and crossed to the dresser where she poured herself another glass of vodka. For the first time in weeks, things felt clear.

She lifted the glass. “To Suzanne,” she said bitterly.

Then a smile slowly formed. “And to her not being a problem anymore.”

Lara drained the vodka and set the glass down. Her eyes drifted across the dresser and settled on the knife she’d inadvertently taken from the dinner table. For a long moment she simply stared at it. Then she reached out and picked it up.

The metal gleamed as her grip tightened around the handle and a strange calm settled over her face before she smiled and laughed quietly to herself.  

* * *

Riley sat in his apartment, replaying the previous night with Phoebe for what felt like the hundredth time. To him, everything had seemed perfect. A nice dinner at an expensive restaurant, a movie they both wanted to see, and some pretty earth-shattering sex back at his place. He’d been with a lot of women, and her enthusiasm, not to mention the physical aspects at play, were not likely faked. So why had she rushed out the door that morning?

Did he say something wrong? Did she regret sleeping with him? A knock at the door interrupted the spiral.

Riley opened it and found a woman standing there holding a baby. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t immediately place her.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said. “I don’t know if you remember me, but we met last year. You—er, that is—I was lonely. You helped me through a particularly difficult night.”

Then her face clicked. She had been one of his Noir Companions clients. To his embarrassment, details of their night together were fuzzy. There had been a lot of women in a short amount of time. “Oh, hi. How did you find me?” 

“I remember you said you lived in a building at Melrose and Kenmore,” she said, then looked down at the child.

A knot formed in Riley’s stomach. “Okay…”

Tears filled her eyes. “I never planned for this.”

Riley’s expression slowly changed.

“When I found out, I told myself I could handle it.” She looked down at the baby and wiped her eyes. “I already raised one child mostly by myself. I already sacrificed everything once. I can’t do it again.”

The world seemed to stop. Before Riley could react, she carefully transferred the baby into his arms.

“There are clothes and formula in the bag.”

A diaper bag landed at his feet. “What are you doing?” Riley asked.

“I’ve spent months trying to convince myself I could make this work.” Her voice cracked. “Then a few days ago I gave birth, and—I just can’t.”

“Wait. You’re saying this baby is mine? That when we—”

The woman nodded while backing away. “I’m sorry.” Then she turned and hurried across the courtyard.

“Hey!” Riley started forward, the baby in his arms. 

But she was already gone.

* * *

The atmosphere inside Jane’s hospital room could not have been more different from a few hours earlier. Stormy sat beside Jane’s bed while Alex and James stood nearby, both looking considerably lighter than they had that morning.

“Two miracles in one day,” James said, shaking his head in amazement. “Your daughter arrives safely, and somehow you walk out of court with probation.” He placed a hand on Stormy’s shoulder. “I don’t know who we should be thanking first.”

Stormy laughed softly, though Carlos’ words to him at the courthouse still rang loudly in his head.  

Alex smiled. “Whatever the reason, we’re grateful.”

A knock sounded at the door before Eddie stepped inside.

Stormy turned his gaze toward him. “You hear from Miranda?”

Eddie shook his head.  “No.” 

James frowned. “What do you mean?”

“She was supposed to meet me at the courthouse this afternoon” Eddie looked around the room. “She never showed.”

“Maybe she got tied up somewhere,” Alex suggested.

Eddie shook his head. “I’ve asked around and nobody’s seen her.”

The room grew noticeably quieter.

“Where’s Tiger?” Alex asked.

“Spending the night with a friend,” Eddie replied.

James immediately waved off the concern. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Eddie didn’t look convinced. “I guess.”

“Miranda’s been under a lot of stress,” James said. “She probably needed some time to lick her wounds. She worked for fifteen years building that agency. It’s normal that she’d be a little wounded right now.” 

It sounded reasonable enough. Still, Eddie glanced at his phone one more time. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing. For reasons he couldn’t explain, that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

* * *

Ethan sat at the desk in his bedroom, half-focused on the laptop screen in front of him as he worked his way through emails and paperwork. At some point his attention drifted, and he found himself glancing out the window. Near the edge of the estate, partially concealed by the branches of an old oak tree, stood the treehouse. It was still there after all these years. Time had weathered it considerably. The paint was faded, several boards had warped, and it looked much smaller than it had when he was young. Even so, the sight of it stirred something in him, drawing his thoughts away from the present…

October 1999

“Miranda!”

Fourteen-year-old Miranda stopped and turned around, annoyance already written across her face. She had been heading toward the pool when Ethan caught up to her, his expression unusually serious.

“What?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Her eyes narrowed immediately. “About what?”

“You know what.”

Miranda sighed dramatically and folded her arms. “No, actually, I don’t.”

“I saw you with Nico again,” Ethan said as he squinted through afternoon sunlight. “Yesterday in the treehouse.”

The reaction was immediate. Miranda’s expression hardened and she looked away for a moment. “So?”

“So, he’s over twenty years old, Miranda” Ethan said. “You’re fourteen. He’s not a good influence.”

That earned a laugh from her. “Who do you think you are? My father? No, you’re my cousin, and you have no right to tell me who I can and can’t hang out with.”

“All I’m saying is that you don’t know what all goes on at the studio when he’s around,” Ethan said. “He’s bad news, Miranda. I think you should steer clear of him.”

“Gee, thanks for your concern, but I think I can handle it,” she said with a sneer.

The argument was escalating now, both of them too stubborn to back down.

“I’ve seen guys like him before,” Ethan said. “They make younger girls feel special, they tell them what they want to hear, and then—”

“Nico isn’t like that.”

The certainty in her voice caught him off guard. Miranda wasn’t defending him because she was being rebellious. She genuinely believed what she was saying. That worried him even more.

“You really like him, don’t you?”

For the first time, she looked uncomfortable. “That’s none of your business.”

“It becomes my business when you’re sneaking around with a grown man.”

“He listens to me.” The words came out before she could stop them.

Ethan blinked. “What?”

“He listens,” Miranda repeated, suddenly defensive. “He doesn’t treat me like a little kid. He doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

The irony of the statement wasn’t lost on either of them. For several seconds they simply stared at each other.

Finally, Miranda shook her head. “You don’t know him.”

“And you do?”

“Yes.”

Ethan’s heart sank. Whatever was happening between them had already gone further than he’d realized. “Miranda—”

But she was done listening. She turned and headed toward the pool.

“Miranda!”

Today

Ethan slowly blinked as the memory faded. The treehouse remained where it had always been, silent and empty beneath the night sky.

For years he had wondered whether he should have done more. Whether he should have gone to James. Whether he should have forced the issue instead of letting Miranda dismiss him. At the time, he’d convinced himself that she was simply a stubborn teenager with a crush. Looking back now, he wasn’t so sure.

His gaze drifted from the treehouse to the smoky horizon beyond the estate. The wildfires were spreading across Los Angeles, turning the sky a hazy orange and reminding everyone how quickly things could get out of control.

* * *

It was past 11:00pm when Suzanne jerked awake to the sound of breaking glass. For a few seconds, she lay perfectly still in the darkness. She told herself she had dreamed it. 

Then something thudded inside the condominium. She took a deep breath and held it.  Another sound followed. A scrape, then the faint shift of weight, and the unmistakable sense that someone was moving through her home.

It was Mickey. Or one of his men.

The thought turned her blood cold. She sat up slowly, terrified that even the whisper of the sheets might give her away, and reached blindly into the nightstand drawer. Her fingers closed around the handgun James had given her. For one panicked moment, she almost dropped it. Then she wrapped both hands around it and slipped out of bed.

The condo was nearly black, lit only by the glow of Los Angeles beyond the windows. Smoke from the fires had dulled the city lights, turning them blurry and sickly through the glass. Everything in the living room looked unfamiliar in the dark. The white sofa, the glass tables, the long shadow of the hallway leading toward the kitchen.

Suzanne stood barefoot in her silk pajamas, the gun trembling in her grip. “Who’s there?” she called.

No answer.

She took one cautious step forward, then another, every nerve in her body screaming at her to run. Her eyes swept the living room, the balcony doors, the hallway.

Nothing.

Then a figure moved out of the shadows. Something flashed.

Suzanne screamed and twisted away just as the knife slashed through the air where she’d just been standing. She stumbled back into the wall, nearly losing her balance, and raised the gun with both shaking hands.

“Don’t move!” she cried.

The figure froze.

Suzanne’s whole body had gone weak with terror. Still keeping the gun aimed, she fumbled for the wall switch and slapped it on.

Suddenly, light flooded the room and revealed Lara standing several feet away.

For a moment, Suzanne couldn’t understand what she was seeing. Lara’s hair was disheveled, her eyes glassy with alcohol, her face streaked with tears. The knife hung from her hand.

While tightening her grip on the knife, Lara’s cellphone slipped from her fingers and dropped onto the carpet. She didn’t even look down. Her gaze stayed fixed on Suzanne, unblinking, feverish, as though nothing else in the world existed.

Suzanne stared at her in disbelief, still struggling to breathe. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Please put the gun down,” Lara said, her voice trembling.

“No.” Suzanne’s own voice shook badly. “No, not until you tell me why you’re in my apartment.”

Lara swallowed. Her jaw worked as if she were trying to force the words out and couldn’t. Then something seemed to snap inside her. “I wanted to scare you!” she screamed. “I wanted to punish you for what you did to me!”

Suzanne flinched at the force of it. “What—”

“You took James away from me.” A tear slid down Lara’s cheek. “You seduced him. You’ve been planning it for months—ever since I went to rehab.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me.” Lara’s voice rose, cracking under the weight of her fury. “All you had to do was call him and he came running. Do you know how much that hurt? I lost his love and his protection because you were afraid of Mickey. Because you played the victim, and James loves victims.”

The sharp smell of alcohol hit Suzanne for the first time. Lara’s eyes were glassy, her movements just slightly unsteady, as though she’d spent the evening drinking herself into a state where grief and rage were no longer distinguishable.

Suzanne edged toward the front door, keeping the gun trained on her. Her hands were slick with sweat. She was terrified she would fire by accident, and even more terrified that she wouldn’t be able to fire at all. Slowly, she reached the door.

Lara saw the movement instantly. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“You broke into my apartment.”

Lara took a step after her. “You don’t honestly think I’m going to let you call the police so you can walk away with James.”

“There is nothing going on between James and me,” Suzanne said very slowly. “Lara, please. Listen to me.”

But Lara’s face only hardened, the tears making her look even more unstable. “Then why is he pulling away from me?” she demanded. Before Suzanne could answer, Lara answered herself. “Because you manipulated him. Because you poisoned him against me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Renee warned me,” Lara said. “She said the two of you grew close while I was in rehab. James saw that you needed someone. Sweet Suzanne. Beautiful Suzanne. Poor Suzanne who needs saving.” The knife lifted slightly in her hand.

Suzanne’s stomach turned over. “Put that down.”

Lara looked at the blade as if she had forgotten she was holding it. For one second, confusion flickered across her face. Then the rage came back. “Well, if I can’t have him,” she said, raising the knife higher, “neither can you.”

“Get back!” Suzanne raised the gun. “Lara, I mean it!”

Lara kept coming. “Do you know how much I hate you?” she said. “You ruined the only good thing in my life.”

“Stop,” Suzanne pleaded. “Please stop.”

“You deserve to suffer.”

Suzanne backed away, cringing as Lara closed in. “Don’t make me shoot you.”

“Go ahead.” Lara gave a bitter, broken laugh. “I had the most wonderful man in the world. I have nothing now that I don’t have him.”

“That’s not true. You need help. I’m going to call James and—”

“Shoot me, Suzanne.” Lara’s eyes gleamed with something terrible. “They’ll put you away for murder, and then no one gets him.”

Suzanne stared at her, horrified. “You are insane.” She turned toward the front door again.

Lara lunged after her. “No one’s going to help you!” she screamed. “I’ll fix it so nobody ever helps you again.”

“Lara, I am warning you!” Suzanne backed away too fast and her foot caught the sofa leg. She stumbled and the gun flew from her hands and skidded across the floor.

For half a second, both women stared at it.

Then Lara changed. The grief and the tears vanished. Her face sharpened into something almost gleeful. “No more beautiful Suzanne!” She charged with the knife raised.

Suzanne screamed and threw up her arms, catching Lara’s wrist just before the blade came down. Lara was stronger than Suzanne expected. Or maybe she was simply past fear. She drove forward with a guttural cry, forcing the knife closer as Suzanne fought to hold her off.

“Stop it!” Suzanne sobbed. “Lara, stop!”

But Lara didn’t stop.

They crashed into the sofa, then the coffee table, knocking over a vase and sending water and flowers spilling across the floor. Suzanne’s bare foot came down on broken glass. Pain shot through her, but she barely felt it. All she saw was the knife and Lara’s wild eyes.

The struggle carried them across the living room. Their legs tangled with furniture, and at one point Suzanne’s knee struck something on the carpet. Lara’s cellphone—the one she’d dropped earlier—skittered across the floor, disappearing beneath the edge of the sofa where neither woman noticed it.

Somehow, Suzanne twisted hard enough to wrench Lara’s arm sideways. The knife clattered out of Lara’s hand and slid across the floor.

Both women froze. Then both saw the gun. For one terrible second, neither of them moved. Then they dove.

Suzanne reached it first, her fingers closing around the grip, but Lara grabbed her arm before she could pull it away. They rolled against the floor, fighting for control, the gun twisting between them, Suzanne sobbing now as Lara clawed at her wrist.

“Let go!” Suzanne cried.

“No!”

The barrel swung wildly. Suzanne tried to shove it away from both of them while Lara pulled back with everything she had.

The gun discharged and the blast thundered through the condo.

Then everything went silent.