Arianne was closing her laptop when Gio appeared at her door.

She’d been efficient all day—clearing her desk, wrapping up loose ends, making sure no one would call with an emergency. The quarterly assessments were coming. They’d be buried in work soon enough. But today was different. Today was hers.

Gio had his tablet in one hand and the particular expression he wore when he had multiple things to tell her and was prioritizing which one to lead with.

"Angelika Sinclair has requested a meeting."

Arianne paused. Angelika had been at the Rochefort hotel for over a week now. Since the club. Since the station. Since she’d stood on the curb in Audrey’s coat and asked why Arianne was helping her.

"Schedule it. One of these days. Not today."

Gio nodded. "There’s also a request from one of the skincare brands you invested in. They’re asking for a favor. I sent the proposal to your inbox."

"Urgent?"

"No."

"I’ll check it at home."

Finn appeared in the doorway behind Gio. Franz’s personal assistant—efficient, discreet, the kind of person who materialized when needed and vanished when not. "Ms. Summers. The car is waiting. Mr. Rochefort and the twins are already at the studio."

Arianne stood, gathering her bag. Gio asked if he should accompany her. She said no. Go home. Get an early rest. The quarterly assessments would keep them busy for weeks.

Gio didn’t argue. He knew what today was. "Happy anniversary."

"Thank you."

The car drove through the city as the afternoon light began its slow turn toward evening. Finn sat in the front passenger seat, reviewing something on his phone. Arianne watched the streets pass through the window.

A year ago today, she’d stood in a small chapel in a borrowed white dress and married a man she’d told herself was a legal arrangement. Sam’s dress—simple, elegant, something Sam had worn to a premiere and never again. Arianne hadn’t wanted to buy one. Buying a dress would have made it real. She hadn’t been ready for real.

She was ready now.

The studio was private. Unmarked. The kind of place that catered to clients who didn’t want to be seen. Finn escorted her through the back entrance, past the assistant who checked names against a list, down a hallway to the dressing room.

Lily and Leo were already there.

They were dressed impeccably—not in the flower dress and button shirt they’d planned three nights ago, but in something the studio had provided. Lily wore a pale blue dress with a satin sash that tied at the back in a perfect bow. Leo was in a miniature suit, dark gray, perfectly fitted, a smaller echo of what Franz would wear. His hair was combed. Lily’s had been brushed until it shone.

"Aunt Aria!" Lily spun in place, the skirt of her dress flaring out. "We’re wearing special clothes! They said we’re going to take pictures first and then you’ll come and then we’ll take pictures together!"

Leo held up his tablet. READY.

Arianne noticed the corner of the room. Petal, the whale, and the Lion were arranged on a small velvet chair—waiting. Someone had brought them from the estate. Someone had known they would need to be here.

"You brought the whole family," Arianne said. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

Lily nodded solemnly. "They’re part of the portrait. That’s what Uncle Franz said. The portrait has to have everyone."

Franz arrived before Arianne could answer.

He was already dressed. Black suit. Perfectly tailored. His hair was neat, his jaw freshly shaved, his eyes finding her across the room and holding. He looked—she paused on the word, tested it, decided it was accurate—dashing. Unfairly so. The kind of dashing that belonged in the photographs they were about to take.

"You look dashing," she said.

Franz stopped mid-step. A beat. Then a grin spread across his face—not the public smile, not the careful one he used for cameras. The real one. The one that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

"That’s the first time you’ve complimented my appearance."

"It’s not the first time."

"It’s the first time out loud. I was starting to think you were immune to my charms."

She chuckled. The sound surprised her—light, unguarded. Before she could respond, an assistant appeared at her elbow. A young woman with a clipboard and the practiced smile of someone who had orchestrated many of these moments.

"Ms. Summers? We’re ready for you. Makeup and the dress. This way, please."

Arianne followed her. At the doorway, she glanced back. Franz was still watching her. The grin had softened into something quieter. The twins were already whispering to each other on the settee, Lily pointing at the rack of dresses visible through the next door.

She walked through. The door closed behind her.

An hour passed.

The studio hummed with quiet activity. The photographer—a woman with silver hair and an unhurried manner—had already taken individual portraits. Franz alone, the shots Daryll would probably request for publicity, though that wasn’t why they were here. Lily alone, then with Leo, the two of them framed together like the pair they’d always been. Lily with her rabbit. Leo with the Lion and the whale, the mended arm visible, the new button eye catching the light. The photographer hadn’t asked him to put them down. She’d simply worked around them.

Now the set was arranged for the family portraits. A pale backdrop. A low bench. Soft lighting that made everything look like it belonged in a painting.

Lily was on the settee, her feet swinging. "When is Aunt Aria coming?"

"Soon," Franz said.

"You said soon last time."

"It’s still true."

Leo typed on his tablet. PATIENCE. LILY.

Lily read it. "I am patient. I’m just asking. There’s a difference."

The door opened.

Arianne entered.

The wedding dress was simple. Elegant. Nothing like the borrowed one she’d worn a year ago—that had been Sam’s, beautiful but not hers, a placeholder for a ceremony she hadn’t let herself believe in. This was different. This was a dress chosen for photographs, for permanence, for the portrait that would hang in the hallway. The fabric fell in clean lines. The neckline was modest but graceful. The train was present but not dramatic—long enough to pool behind her, short enough to move in. Her makeup was light. Enough for the camera. Not enough to hide her.

Franz stared.

He’d thought she was beautiful a year ago, standing in front of an officiant in a borrowed dress, signing her name as Arianne Summers Rochefort. He’d thought she was beautiful every morning since—in his shirts and her own clothes and the armor she wore to boardrooms. But this.

The word came to him slowly. Ethereal. That was the word.

"Uncle Franz," Lily whispered loudly. "You’re supposed to say something."

He crossed to Arianne. The train of her dress whispered against the floor. He took her hand. His thumb brushed her knuckles.

"You’re beautiful," he said.

"You already used that one."

"It still applies."

The photographer took over.

The next hour was a blur of positions and backdrops and the quiet click of the shutter. Franz and Arianne together—his hand at her waist, her hand on his chest, the formal poses that would look like paintings when they were done. Then the candid ones. A laugh caught mid-sound. A look exchanged when they thought no one was watching. The photographer’s voice, gentle but firm: "Turn slightly. Yes. Like that. Hold."

Then the twins joined.

Lily inserted herself between them with the authority of someone who had been planning this moment for three days. She positioned herself at Arianne’s side, her hand finding Arianne’s, her chin lifted. Leo stood beside Franz, his small hand in Franz’s larger one. The Lion was tucked under his other arm. He hadn’t put it down since the individual shots.

"Can Petal be in the next one?" Lily asked.

The photographer looked at Franz. He nodded.

Petal was retrieved from the velvet chair. The whale. The rabbit. The Lion stayed in Leo’s arms. They arranged the comfort objects around the twins like a court—Petal at Lily’s feet, the rabbit beside her, the whale near Leo’s knee, the Lion in his lap. The photographer captured it. The family and their whole chaotic history.

"Smile," the photographer said.

Lily smiled so wide her cheeks must have hurt. Leo smiled too—the real smile, the one that crinkled his eyes, the one that had been missing for so long after the accident. The one that meant he felt safe.

The shutter clicked.

Late that night, the estate was quiet.

The photoshoot was over. The photographer had packed her equipment. The assistants had dismantled the backdrops and folded the lighting screens. Finn had driven them home and disappeared with a quiet "goodnight." The house was dark except for the lamp in the sitting room.

The twins were on the couch.

They’d fallen asleep somewhere between the car ride and the front door. Lily was slumped against the armrest, Petal tucked under her chin, her pale blue dress slightly rumpled, the satin sash coming undone. Leo was curled beside her, the whale in his arms, the Lion near his head. Someone—Franz, probably—had removed his small jacket and draped it over the back of the couch. They were still in their formal clothes. They hadn’t made it to their bedroom. They hadn’t even made it through the front door before exhaustion claimed them.

Arianne stood over them.

She was still in her wedding dress. The train pooled on the floor behind her. She hadn’t changed. She’d wanted to check on them first. Her hand rested on the back of the couch, near Lily’s head. Her face was soft in the lamplight.

Franz watched from the doorway.

He was still in his suit. His tie was loosened, the top button undone. He’d been watching her all night. In the studio, when she’d walked through the door. During the photos, when she’d laughed at something Lily said. In the car, when she’d stared out the window with her hand in his. Now, standing over the twins in a wedding dress she’d chosen for a marriage she’d finally let herself believe in.

He thought—the thought private, one he would never say aloud—that he must have done something extraordinary in another life. Some great deed. Some impossible kindness. For the heavens to allow him this. Her. The twins. This family. This life.

She turned. Saw him in the doorway.

"They’re exhausted," she said.

"They’ve been planning this for three days. It caught up with them."

"We should put them to bed."

"In a minute." He crossed to her. His hands found her waist. The fabric of the dress was smooth under his fingers. "Let me look at you a little longer."

She didn’t pull away. The lamplight caught the edge of her jaw, the curve of her shoulder, the dark hair that fell past her shoulders. She looked like the portrait already—like something permanent. Something that belonged in a frame on a wall where everyone who visited would see it.

"Happy anniversary," he said.

"It’s been a year."

"A year and three days. Our anniversary was Tuesday. You were busy. We rescheduled."

She almost smiled. "That’s very practical of us."

"We’re practical people."

Her hand came up to his chest. Rested there. "We should do this again. The photos, I mean. Not every year. But—"

"Every few years. When the twins are older. When things change."

"Yes."

He kissed her forehead. Light. Brief. The way he’d kissed her a hundred times before. Then he stepped back and looked at the twins. "I’ll carry Leo. You take Lily. She’ll wake up enough to walk if you guide her."

"She’ll argue."

"Probably."

He lifted Leo from the couch. The boy didn’t wake. His head lolled against Franz’s shoulder, the whale still clutched in his arms, the Lion dangling from one hand. Arianne gathered Lily—less lifting, more guiding, the girl’s feet finding the floor and then the stairs, her voice mumbling something about trains and portraits before she settled back into sleep.

They put the twins to bed. Lily first, then Leo. The whale and the Lion on the nightstand. Petal tucked under the covers. The mended arm. The new button eye. The family, whole.

Then they went to their own room. The door closed. The house was quiet.

The portrait would hang in the hallway. The first thing anyone would see when they walked through the door. Proof. Permanence. The thing Arianne had been afraid to create, now waiting to be framed.