The kitchen fills with the clatter of dishes and the comfortable rhythm of shared meals. I wait until everyone has settled into their seats before delivering the news.
"Walter Snyder is coming tomorrow." I keep my voice steady, watching faces shift around the table. "Victoria arranged for him to collect the girls and escort them home."
Jake's brow furrows as he sets down his fork. "Who's Walter?"
"Violet's brother." I reach for my water glass, avoiding Violet's immediate reaction building across the table. "Victoria's son. He works for her husband's company."
"Why him?" Violet's voice cuts sharp through the conversation, her silverware abandoned with a clatter. "We don't need an escort. Paige and I can manage a flight home perfectly fine on our own."
"Your mother made the decision." I see her glare without flinching. "She wants someone she trusts handling the logistics."
"Someone she trusts." Violet laughs, but the sound carries bitterness instead of humor. "That's rich. She doesn't trust me to breathe without supervision, but Walter gets to play the hero."
"I don't want to go home."
Paige's voice breaks through Violet's building tirade. The words land with unexpected force, drawing every eye toward her end of the table.
"I want to stay longer." Paige straightens in her chair, something fierce replacing her usual gentleness. Her gaze finds Jake's directly. "I'll work hard. I promise. I'm not a burden—I can help with the horses, the chores, whatever you need. Please."
Tommy's face transforms. The brightness that spreads across his features is impossible to hide, and he doesn't even try.
Jake studies Paige for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "We'll discuss it later."
The answer isn't a no. Paige's shoulders relax slightly, hope flickering in her eyes.
But Violet's expression has frozen into something dangerous. She stares at Paige like she's seeing a stranger—worse, like she's seeing a traitor.
"So that's how it is." The words come out low. Wounded. "You'd rather stay here shoveling horse manure than come home with me."
"Violet, that's not—"
"Save it." Violet shoves back from the table, her chair scraping against the floor. "I don't need explanations from people who abandon me the second something better comes along."
She storms from the kitchen before anyone can respond. The door bangs shut behind her, rattling dishes in its wake.
I push myself up from my seat, body still protesting from the fall. "I'll talk to her."
Jake catches my hand as I pass, concerned tightening his features. "You sure you're up for that?"
"Someone has to." I squeeze his fingers once, then release them. "She shouldn't be alone right now."
The terrace stretches ahead, evening light painting everything gold and shadow. Violet stands at the railing, arms wrapped around herself, staring at nothing.
I approach slowly, giving her time to hear my footsteps. To decide whether she wants company or solitude.
She doesn't move away. That feels like permission.
"Want to tell me what's really going on?" I lean against the railing beside her, keeping my voice soft. "Because that reaction wasn't just about Paige wanting to stay."
Violet's laugh sounds hollow. "You don't know my brother."
"Zachary mentioned he's difficult to read."
"Difficult." She shakes her head, something bitter twisting her mouth. "Walter isn't difficult. He's calculated. Every word, every gesture, every helpful suggestion—all designed to make himself look better while making me look worse."
The bravado I've watched her maintain for days begins crumbling. Her shoulders curve inward, defensive and defeated.
"My mother deploys him like a weapon." Violet's voice drops. "Whenever she wants intelligence. Whenever she suspects I'm hiding something or embarrassing the family. She sends Walter to observe and report."
"That sounds exhausting." I mean it.
"I did this to myself." Violet scrubs a hand across her face, angry and ashamed. "I complained too much in my messages. Every stupid grievance about the food, the beds, the lack of civilization—I practically invited this surveillance."
"Your mother was worried about you."
"My mother was worried about her reputation." The correction comes sharp. "There's a difference."
We stand in silence for a moment. The evening air cools against my skin, carrying the scent of dust and distant rain.
"Guard your secrets, Adison." Violet turns to face me, her expression serious in ways I haven't seen before. "Walter will find them. He always does." Her eyes hold mine with sudden intensity. "Especially the pregnancy."
Everything inside me goes still.
"How do you know about that?" The question comes out harder than I intend, fear sharpening every syllable.
Violet shrugs, some of her usual calculations returning.
"Your argument with Jake earlier carried through the walls. This house isn't exactly soundproof." She tilts her head, studying me. "Plus, you've been obvious since you arrived. The constant nausea. The exhaustion you can't hide. The way you avoid food is like it's trying to poison you."
My hands grip the railing, knuckles whitening.
"I'm not judging." Violet raises her palms in mock surrender. "Honestly, I'm impressed you kept it hidden this long. Most women in your condition would have cracked under the pressure weeks ago."
"Who else knows?"
"Just me." Her smile curves with something that might be genuine reassurance. "And I'm not going to tell anyone. Your secrets are safe from me."
The promise should comfort me. It doesn't.
"But Walter." Violet's expression sharpens with calculating amusement. "Walter notices everything. He'll see what I saw. Probably faster."
I stare at her, heart pounding against my ribs.
"So here's my question." Violet steps closer, her voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. "Are you finally ready to admit you're involved with the cowboy? Because that secret's going to be impossible to keep once my brother starts paying attention."
The question hangs in the cooling evening air between us.
I realize, with sudden clarity, that my secret isn't contained to a handful of people anymore. And tomorrow, Walter Snyder arrives—a man who, by all accounts, turns observation into an art form.
The walls I've built around this pregnancy are already crumbling. By the time Walter leaves, they might not exist at all.
Violet watches me process this new reality, something almost like sympathy softening her sharp features.
"Welcome to my world," she says quietly. "Where privacy is a luxury none of us can afford."