The kitchen smelled like coffee and bread.

Aunt Estella was at the stove, the morning light falling through the window and catching the steam rising from the kettle. Gio was at the counter with his tablet, scrolling through something with the focused stillness he always had in the early hours. He’d been up before everyone. He usually was.

Arianne came in. No blazer. No heels. Just a sweater and trousers, her hair pulled back loosely. She hadn’t dressed for a boardroom. She wasn’t going to one.

"Gio."

He looked up.

"I need you to find someone. Someone who restores old things. Toys. Specifically dolls."

Gio set his tablet down. "Restores toys?"

"A stuffed lion. It’s old. The arm tore off last night."

He took this in. His expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes clicked.

"Why not buy the same one? It would be faster. Easier."

"It’s irreplaceable." Arianne crossed to the counter and poured herself coffee. Black. No sugar. She didn’t sit. "It was given to Leo the day he was born. By Alex."

That landed. Gio’s hand paused over his tablet. He’d known Alex. Not well — he’d been at the edges of the brotherhood then, not inside it. But he knew what Alex meant to this house. What Alex’s absence meant.

"It doesn’t need to be perfect," Arianne said. "I’m not expecting it to look new. Just presentable. Whole. Good enough that he can keep it for years."

Gio nodded. "I’ll find someone."

He was already making a note. Gio didn’t waste time on spectacle. She’d given him a task. He would complete it.

"There’s something else." She wrapped her hands around the coffee cup. The heat pressed into her palms. "I need my morning cleared. All of it."

Gio looked up.

"Franz and I talked earlier. Leo needs to see his therapist. I’m taking him myself. And after the appointment, he’ll stay with me the rest of the day."

She didn’t explain why. She didn’t need to. He’d heard the thud from upstairs last night, the crying, the silence after.

He understood distance. He understood reset.

"How much of the morning?"

"All of it. Move whatever needs moving. The afternoon I’ll manage on my own."

"Done."

He didn’t ask if she wanted him to come. He knew the answer. She was taking Leo herself. This was hers to handle. Franz would handle Lily. Gio would handle everything else.

***

Lily was awake.

She stood in the hallway near the stairs, still in her pajamas, Petal the purple dinosaur clutched under her arm. She’d heard voices in the kitchen. The word "Leo." The word "appointment." Her hair was tangled from sleep, one side flattened against her head. She’d come looking for answers.

Franz found her there.

"Hey." He knelt to her level. "You’re up early."

"Where’s Leo going?"

Her voice was careful. The careful of a child who’d cried herself to sleep and woken up still carrying the weight of it. The careful of a child who’d asked am I going to lose him and hadn’t yet received an answer that made her feel safe.

"Aunt Aria is taking him to see his doctor. The one who helps him with feelings and words."

Lily’s grip on Petal tightened. "Why isn’t she taking me?"

"Because today is just for Leo. He needs some extra time."

The words hit before he finished saying them. Lily’s face crumpled — not crying yet, but the threat of it, the gathering storm behind her eyes.

"Is it because I was bad?" The question came fast. "Because I broke the lion? Am I being punished?"

"No." Franz kept his voice steady. "You’re not being punished. This isn’t about that."

"Then why can’t I go?" Her voice rose, trembling at the edges. "I want to spend the day with Aunt Aria too. Why does Leo get to go and I have to stay here?"

She didn’t understand fairness the way adults did. To Lily, fairness was both of them getting the same thing. Fairness was being included. Fairness was not being the one left behind while her brother got into the car with their aunt and drove away.

"Lily." Franz waited until she met his eyes. "Do you remember what our Aunt Aria said last night? About Leo and the lion?"

She nodded. Small. Reluctant.

"Leo was very upset. He pushed you. That was wrong. But he pushed you because he had big feelings he didn’t know how to say. The doctor is going to help him with that. Help him understand those feelings. That’s why he’s going today."

"But I could come. I could help. I know about his feelings. I’m his sister."

"I know you are. And you’re good at helping. But today, the doctor needs to talk to Leo alone. It’s his turn."

Lily looked down at Petal. Her fingers traced the felt teeth, the inward-curling tail. When she spoke again, her voice was smaller.

"But you’re here. Can’t you take me somewhere? Just us? Like Aunt Aria takes Leo?"

Franz hesitated.

This was the hard part. The part he hadn’t figured out how to explain to a four-year-old who only knew she was being left out. He couldn’t take her. He couldn’t take either of them — not to set, not to meetings, not into the world where Noah Hart existed and cameras followed. That world would devour her. It would photograph her and name her and connect her to him and to Arianne, and once that connection was made public, the safety they’d built around the twins would crack.

"I can’t take you where I work," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because it’s not safe. My work has cameras. People who take pictures. People who might try to find out who you are."

Lily frowned. "Like the airport?"

"Like the airport."

She remembered the airport. The cameras. The crowd. The way Uncle Franz had shielded Aunt Aria and hurried her out. She’d seen the footage on television, over and over, the same images cycling through the news.

"But Aunt Aria takes Leo places."

"Aunt Aria’s work is different. She goes to offices and meetings. Private places. My work is public. If I brought you there, people would see you. They’d take your picture. They might not leave us alone after that."

Lily was quiet. Her hands had gone still on Petal.

"I just wanted to be with her too," she said finally.

Franz pulled her into his arms. She let him. Her face pressed into his shoulder, Petal squashed between them.

"I know," he said. "I know you did."

He didn’t have a fix for this. He couldn’t make it fair. He could only hold her and tell her he was here, that today it was the two of them, that they would figure out something. Something at home. Something that didn’t require a car or a crowd.

Lily nodded against his shoulder. She wasn’t crying. But she wasn’t okay either. She was in the middle place — disappointed, still scared, still wondering if this was punishment dressed up in gentle words.

"I’m not bad," she said into his shirt.

"You’re not bad. You made a mistake. That’s different."

"Leo made a mistake too."

"Yes."

"But he gets to go."

Franz exhaled. The logic of a four-year-old was airtight in ways he couldn’t argue with.

"He gets to go to the doctor," he said. "That’s not a treat. That’s something he needs."

Lily pulled back. Looked at him. Her eyes were wet but the tears hadn’t fallen.

"Can we do something here? Just us?"

"Yes."

"Something good?"

"The best I can do."

She considered this. Then nodded. Once. The small, decisive motion she’d inherited from someone — maybe from Layla, who Franz remembered as being decisive in exactly this way.

Arianne appeared at the end of the hall.

Leo was beside her. Dressed. The whale tucked under his arm. His face was still subdued, the residue of last night clinging to him. He hadn’t touched his breakfast. He hadn’t typed anything since he came downstairs.

But he looked at Lily.

It wasn’t a long look. It wasn’t a smile. It was just — acknowledgment. The two of them, in the hallway, on opposite sides of an argument that wasn’t over yet.

Then he looked away.

Arianne met Franz’s eyes. A small nod. We’re going.

He nodded back.

Lily watched them walk to the door. Her hand was still in Franz’s. Her grip tightened as the door opened — just a fraction, just enough for Franz to feel it.

"Be good," Arianne said to Lily. "We’ll be back this afternoon."

Lily nodded. She didn’t trust her voice.

The door closed. The car pulled away. The morning light fell through the windows and across the empty hallway.

Franz looked down at her. "So."

"So."

"What should we do?"

Lily thought about it. Petal was still under her arm. Her pajamas were still rumpled. She hadn’t eaten breakfast. None of that mattered.

"Pancakes," she said.

"Pancakes?"

"Aunt Estella makes pancakes. With the face."

"Chocolate chip face?"

"Yes."

"Pancakes it is."

He took her hand and they walked toward the kitchen together — her small steps matching his slower ones, the purple dinosaur trailing behind her.