The estate was quiet on the first day of the new year.
No meetings. No schedules. No reports demanding immediate attention. The twins had slept late, worn out from the fireworks and the excitement of staying up past midnight. When they finally wandered downstairs, they were still in their pajamas—Lily's with the rabbits, Leo's with the stars—and neither of them seemed inclined to change.
Arianne had made coffee and toast and nothing else. The reports from Rochefort Group were in her study, stacked neatly on the corner of her desk. She'd glanced at them when she passed the door that morning. She'd kept walking.
