The sedan hadn’t moved in over an hour.

Neither had they. Mari sat behind the wheel, her hands loose in her lap, her eyes fixed on the entrance of the Rochefort Group building across the street. She was the calm one. The one who’d agreed to this plan because Rina had begged and Tess had sulked and someone had to drive.

"We should have brought snacks," Rina said.

"We’ve been here an hour. You said she’d be out in twenty minutes."

"I said the forum said she usually leaves around this time. That’s not a guarantee."

"It’s not a guarantee," Tess repeated from the backseat. "Nothing about this is a guarantee. We don’t even know if she’s in there."

"She’s in there." Rina held up her phone. "The forum tracked her last three public appearances. She’s been at Rochefort Group every day this week."

"The forum." Tess’s voice was dry. "The same forum that said Noah was secretly married to his co-star from The Second Cut."

"That was one person. And she was banned."

"Girls." Mari’s voice was quiet but final. "There."

The entrance doors had opened. A woman stepped out — dark wavy hair brushing her shoulders, sharp jaw, a gray coat over dark trousers. She moved without hesitation, without pausing to look around or check her phone or acknowledge the city around her. A tall woman in a dark suit walked beside her — security, Mari noted. Professional. Watchful.

"That’s her," Rina breathed. "That’s Arianne Summers."

She was already lifting her phone, already pressing the shutter. Click. Click. Click. The woman — Arianne — crossed the pavement and slid into the back of a black sedan. The security woman got in the front. The door closed. The car pulled away.

"Go," Rina said. "Go, go, go."

Mari started the engine.

"Are we really doing this?" Tess had her camcorder out now, the small handheld one she’d bought for film school applications and never stopped using. She pressed record. The red light blinked on.

"We’re really doing this," Rina said.

Mari pulled into traffic.

They followed the sedan through the city.

Mari drove carefully — three cars back, one lane over, the way she’d read about in a novel about spies. Rina kept her phone trained on the sedan ahead, zooming in whenever traffic slowed. Tess narrated into her camcorder, her voice low and uncertain.

"This is insane. We’re following Noah Hart’s girlfriend through downtown. This is insane. Mom, if you ever see this, I’m sorry."

"She’s not his girlfriend," Rina said without lowering her phone. "The press conference said they’re not confirming anything."

"The press conference where he stood behind her like a bodyguard and told everyone to respect his private life. That press conference."

"Exactly. He didn’t confirm."

"He didn’t deny either."

Mari changed lanes. The sedan kept its steady pace ahead. The woman inside — Arianne Summers, corporate executive, former heiress, the mystery woman in Noah Hart’s campaign photos — was invisible behind tinted windows.

The sedan pulled up to a club. Upscale. The kind of place with a velvet rope and a bouncer who looked like he’d been carved out of stone. Arianne stepped out, the security woman beside her, and walked toward the entrance.

Rina caught her profile. Dark wavy hair. Sharp jaw. The way the crowd seemed to part without her asking.

"She’s taller than I thought," Rina said.

"She looks cold," Tess said.

Mari watched her disappear through the door. "She looks like she doesn’t care if anyone’s watching."

They tried to follow.

The bouncer stopped them before they reached the rope. The hostess beside him had a tablet and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

"Reservations only, I’m afraid. No walk-ins."

"We just want to get a drink," Rina said.

"Reservations only."

"Can we make a reservation now?"

"For tonight?" The hostess looked at them — their coats, their shoes, the camera phone still in Rina’s hand — and her smile tightened. "We’re fully booked. I’m sorry."

Rina opened her mouth to argue. Mari pulled her back by the elbow.

"Thank you," Mari said. "We’ll try another night."

They retreated to the car. Tess was already walking ahead, her camcorder lowered, her shoulders hunched. Rina slumped into the passenger seat. Mari got behind the wheel and didn’t start the engine.

"We came all this way," Rina said. "We waited for over an hour. We followed her across the city. And we can’t even get inside."

"We knew this might happen," Mari said.

"We shouldn’t have come at all," Tess said from the backseat.

But none of them suggested leaving.

The waiting stretched.

The club’s neon sign pulsed pink and blue against the windshield. The bass from the dance floor thudded through the closed windows, a distant heartbeat. Rina had stopped checking her phone. Tess had stopped narrating. Mari sat with her hands in her lap and watched the entrance.

"I don’t understand it," Tess said finally.

"Understand what?"

"Her. Arianne Summers. Why Noah would choose her?"

Rina turned in her seat. "What’s wrong with her?"

"What’s right with her? She’s a corporate executive. She’s older than him. She was engaged to some other guy five years ago. She doesn’t smile in any of the photos. Not one." Tess gestured at the club. "The industry is full of beautiful actresses and models. Younger women. Warmer women. Why her?"

"Because she’s not like them," Rina shot back. "I looked her up before we came. Did you?"

Tess didn’t answer.

"She took over Summers Corporation when she was barely out of university. She pulled it back from the edge of collapse. Then she walked into Rochefort Group as a consultant and did the same thing. She’s saved two companies. Two. That’s not nothing."

"That’s business. What does that have to do with Noah?"

"It tells you what kind of person she is. She doesn’t quit. She walks into rooms full of men who want her to fail and she wins anyway." Rina’s voice was heated now. "And she was an heiress before any of this. Summers family. Old money. She publicly cut ties with all of it after her engagement fell apart. Walked away from everything. You know how much backbone that takes?"

Mari spoke without turning from the entrance. "She was only with one man. Before Noah."

Tess frowned. "What?"

"The ex-fiancé. The one who betrayed her. She was with him for seven years. And after he destroyed her at their engagement banquet — nothing. No relationships. No rumors. Five years." Mari glanced at Tess in the rearview mirror. "Then Noah. That’s not a woman who uses people. That’s a woman who waits for something real."

The car was quiet. The bass thudded. The neon pulsed.

Tess stared at the back of Mari’s head. "You’ve been reading about her too."

"I wanted to know who he chose." Mari shrugged. "So I looked."

"And?"

"And I think he chose someone who survived things. That matters."

Rina was watching Tess. "You still think she’s using him?"

"I don’t know what I think." Tess looked down at her camcorder. "But I want to see her. Just once. In person. Not through a window."

"You did see her."

"Not up close. Not really."

The silence settled back over them. The club hummed. The night went on.

The club door opened.

Rina sat up. "Is that her?"

It wasn’t.

A woman stumbled out. Blonde. Beautiful. Her dress was expensive but rumpled, the sleeve twisted, the hem uneven. She was surrounded — five men in dark suits, one gripping her arm above the elbow, another leaning close to her ear, a third opening the door of a waiting car. She was shaking her head. Pulling back. Her heels scraped against the pavement.

"That’s not right," Mari said.

Rina was already reaching for her door handle. "They’re forcing her."

"Maybe she knows them."

"She’s resisting. Look at her. She’s trying to get away."

Tess lifted her camcorder. The red light blinked on. She aimed it through the windshield, zooming in on the woman’s face — pale, wide-eyed, her mouth forming words they couldn’t hear. The man holding her arm pulled harder. The woman stumbled.

"We have to do something," Rina said.

"Call the police."

"There’s no time."

Rina opened the door. Mari cursed under her breath and opened hers. Tess scrambled out of the backseat, the camcorder still recording, the red light still blinking.

Rina crossed the street first.

"Hey! Let go of her!"

The men turned. They were large. Expensive suits. Faces that belonged to people who weren’t used to being interrupted. The one holding the woman’s arm didn’t release her. The one by the car stepped forward.

"This is a private matter. Walk away."

"She doesn’t look like she wants to be here."

"She’s had too much to drink. We’re taking her home."

"I’m not drunk." The woman’s voice was shaky but clear. "I’m not drunk and I don’t know them."

Rina’s hands clenched. Mari stepped up beside her, her phone already in her hand. Tess stood a few feet back, the camcorder raised, the red light steady.

"Let her go," Rina said. "Now."

The man by the car moved faster than any of them expected. He shoved Rina — both hands, hard. She staggered backward, her ankle twisting, her shoulder hitting the side of their parked car. Mari caught her before she fell.

"Rina — "

"I’m fine."

She wasn’t. Her arm was already reddening where she’d hit the car. But she was still standing.

The man who’d shoved her turned. He saw Tess. Saw the camcorder. His face changed — the smugness replaced by something sharper. He lunged.

Tess tried to pull back. Too late. He grabbed the camcorder, wrenched it from her hands, and threw it. The device hit the pavement with a crack. The screen shattered. The casing split at one corner.

But the red light was still blinking.

The camcorder lay on the ground, its lens tilted upward, recording the fractured night sky and the chaos above it.

"Rina!" Mari’s voice cut through the noise.

Rina was on the ground. The second man had pushed her down when she tried to grab his arm, tried to stop him from reaching Angelika. Her palm was scraped. Her shoulder ached. She couldn’t get up fast enough.

The third man had Angelika by the wrist now, dragging her toward the car. She was fighting — heels scraping, dress tearing further at the sleeve — but he was stronger. The car door was open. The engine was running.

Tess scrambled for her camcorder. Her hands were shaking. The screen was cracked but the red light was still blinking. She grabbed it, pointed it at the men, and screamed.

"Help! Someone help us!"

Her voice cracked on the last word. The club door stayed closed. The bouncer was shouting into a radio but not moving — waiting for backup, waiting for instructions, waiting for someone else to handle it.

Mari stood between Rina and the men, her phone clutched in her hand, her body the only shield she had. Rina was struggling to her feet. Angelika was crying. The men were winning.

And Tess kept screaming.

"Help! Please — someone — "

The camcorder kept recording. The red light kept blinking. The night kept unfolding, violent and slow.