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"Dinner's ready."

Elliot's voice cut through whatever was building between us. We both looked up.

At the table, Elliot talked with Natasha while piling food onto my plate. I didn't eat any of it. Who wants to perform in a play with no audience?

Natasha seemed restless. She nodded toward the study. "Elliot, are you sleeping in there these days?"

"Work's been brutal for both of us," he said, his tone gentle, diplomatic. "Separate rooms means better rest."

It was deliberately vague. The kind of thing you'd say if you wanted someone to think the marriage was already over.

I didn't bother correcting him.

Natasha believed it. She shot me a small, satisfied smile.

I set down my fork, stood up. "Excuse me — bathroom."

And left.

Elliot glanced after me. Natasha called him back. He turned away and got back to business: he needed seven figures in investment to expand the academy.

"That works for me," Natasha said brightly. "My family's actually been encouraging me to find my own projects to put money into."

Elliot played it measured. "Don't rush into anything. Let me send you the prospectus first. Read it properly before you decide."

"Of course. Whatever you say."

I was around the corner by then, phone already out.

I typed to Dominic: Mr. Kingsley — Natasha is at my home right now. For someone with your profile, not being able to manage your own ward seems like a liability. If you won't step in, I might just handle it myself.

A minute passed. He replied.

Go ahead. I'm a little busy right now.

I stared at the screen.

Unbelievable.