The silence in the garden stretched awkwardly after the call ended.
The phone slipped slightly in Trinidad's hand.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Then Colt Clifford did the most shocking thing anyone there had ever seen.
He turned around…
And walked away.
No dramatic speech.
No threats.
No explanation.
He simply headed for the mansion doors and disappeared inside.
Reid blinked.
Dylan blinked harder.
Bethany nearly dropped her drink.
Franco slowly removed one earbud.
The group stared after Colt like they had just witnessed a lion politely excuse itself from dinner.
Then Reid let out a long sigh.
"Well."
Dylan placed a hand over his chest.
"I need water."
Bethany frowned. "What was that?"
Reid looked deeply offended.
"That, dear Bethany, was a billionaire malfunction."
Dylan pointed toward the mansion. "I have known that man for years. I have seen him break people emotionally, financially, and spiritually."
He lowered his voice dramatically.
"I have never seen him walk away from a problem."
Franco leaned back in his chair.
"He didn't walk away from the problem."
Everyone looked at him.
He shrugged.
"He walked away from her."
All eyes turned to Trinidad.
She still stood in the middle of the garden, holding the mystery phone like it had personally insulted her.
"Why are you all looking at me?" she asked.
Reid stood and clapped once.
"Because, my dear accidental queen, you have done the impossible."
"And what is that?"
"You confused Colt."
Dylan nodded solemnly.
"Do you know how rare that is? Scientists should study you."
Trinidad rolled her eyes.
"I didn't confuse anyone. Some psycho called me."
Bethany crossed her arms.
"Maybe someone from your side of town."
The insult landed sharply.
The playful mood thinned.
Before Trinidad could reply, Reid spoke first.
"Bethany."
Just one word.
But his tone carried warning.
Bethany looked away.
Dylan stepped in quickly.
"Okay! Nobody fights. Tonight is for peace, healing, and snacks."
"There are no snacks," Franco said.
Dylan gasped. "Then what are we even doing here?"
Inside the mansion, the group migrated to the main lounge.
It was enormous, with deep velvet couches, a fireplace large enough to roast an entire goat, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
Trinidad sat carefully at the edge of a sofa.
She still wasn't used to furniture that looked more expensive than human lives.
Reid sprawled across one couch like he paid rent there.
Dylan raided a tray of chocolates.
Bethany sat elegantly, pretending not to care.
Franco chose the corner armchair and somehow made silence look fashionable.
Reid leaned forward.
"Right. Since Colt abandoned us like a bad father, we need answers."
Trinidad sighed.
"I don't have any."
"Wrong," Dylan said through a mouthful of chocolate. "You have many."
He swallowed dramatically.
"Question one: How did you and our emotionally unavailable billionaire meet?"
Trinidad hesitated.
The truth sounded insane.
"I tried to rob him."
Dylan choked.
Reid fell off the couch.
Bethany's eyes widened despite herself.
Franco looked mildly impressed.
"You what?" Reid wheezed from the floor.
"I needed money for my father. I broke in. He caught me."
Dylan slowly stood.
"This is the greatest love story I have ever heard."
"It is not a love story."
Reid climbed back onto the couch, laughing so hard he held his stomach.
"You robbed Colt Clifford and now you live here?"
Trinidad pointed at him.
"Don't laugh too much. You look unstable."
That made Dylan howl.
Even Franco's shoulders shook once.
Bethany remained stiff.
"So he married a thief."
Trinidad's face cooled.
"And yet here I am."
Reid slapped the table.
"Point to Trinidad."
Bethany glared at him.
A servant entered with drinks.
Stacy followed behind, carrying a tray of pastries.
She still looked nervous but less frightened than before.
When she saw Trinidad, her face brightened.
"Miss Trinidad."
Trinidad smiled warmly.
"Come sit."
Stacy nearly dropped the tray.
"I-I can't sit with you."
"Why not?"
"Because I work here."
Reid scooted over instantly.
"Now you can work from the couch."
Dylan patted the seat beside him.
"We are very generous people."
Franco added quietly, "Sometimes."
Stacy looked between them in panic.
Bethany looked horrified.
Trinidad reached for the girl's hand.
"Sit."
Slowly, Stacy obeyed.
Like a deer entering traffic.
Reid grinned.
"Excellent. New member unlocked."
Ten minutes later, the mansion staff would never recover from what they witnessed.
The rich heirs of Blackwood City were teaching a maid and a thief how to play charades.
"This is ridiculous," Bethany muttered.
"This is culture," Dylan corrected.
He stood dramatically in the center of the room and began flapping his arms.
"Bird?" Trinidad guessed.
"No!"
"Chicken?"
"No!"
"Confused mosquito?" Reid offered.
Dylan groaned.
"It was heartbreak!"
Franco actually snorted.
Everyone froze.
Dylan pointed.
"He made a sound!"
Reid stood up.
"Mark the calendar!"
Franco's face returned to normal immediately.
Round two belonged to Reid.
He strutted into the center, puffed his chest, flipped imaginary hair, and pretended to sign autographs.
"Dylan!" Trinidad shouted.
"Yes!" Reid yelled.
Dylan looked offended.
"You acted too handsome. Unrealistic."
Stacy laughed so hard she covered her mouth.
The sound made everyone turn.
She immediately panicked.
"S-sorry!"
"No apologizing for joy," Trinidad said.
Reid placed a hand on his heart.
"She speaks like a village princess."
Then it was Trinidad's turn.
She stood awkwardly.
"I don't know what to do."
"Act anything," Dylan said.
She thought for a second.
Then she crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes, and started walking around the room like she owned it.
Cold stare.
Judging expression.
Invisible arrogance.
One hand in pocket.
Everyone gasped at once.
"COLT!" Reid shouted.
The room exploded with laughter.
Even Bethany failed to hide a smile.
Trinidad kept going, now pretending to look down on imaginary people.
Dylan wiped tears from his eyes.
"The accuracy!"
Franco muttered, "Needs more ego."
That finished them all.
They laughed until Reid nearly rolled off the couch again.
Upstairs, Colt stood outside the lounge unnoticed.
He had returned for a file.
Instead, he found himself listening to chaos through the half-open door.
Then he heard his name.
Then laughter.
Then Trinidad's imitation of him.
His jaw tightened.
And yet…
He stayed.
Through the crack in the door, he saw her laughing freely.
No fear.
No calculation.
No fake sweetness like the women who usually surrounded him.
Just light.
Annoyingly bright light.
He left before anyone noticed.
Back downstairs, Dylan demanded snacks again.
A mountain of desserts arrived.
Macarons.
Mini cheesecakes.
Fruit tarts.
Chocolate rolls.
Ice cream.
Trinidad stared in disbelief.
"Do you people ever stop eating?"
"No," Reid said proudly.
She picked up a tiny green macaron.
"What flavor is this?"
Dylan whispered, "Regret."
She bit into it.
"Pistachio."
"Same thing."
As the night deepened, stories started.
Reid confessed he once crashed his father's yacht trying to impress twins.
Dylan admitted he had written a breakup song about someone who never dated him.
Franco revealed nothing.
Not one thing.
"Tell us a secret," Trinidad said.
"No."
"Your full sentence count today is impressive," Dylan said.
Franco ignored him.
Stacy surprised everyone by speaking softly.
"He keeps candy in his hoodie pocket."
All heads turned.
Franco looked betrayed.
Reid lunged immediately.
Franco moved like lightning.
Three seconds later Reid was pinned face-first onto a couch cushion.
Dylan screamed.
Bethany laughed for real this time.
Trinidad clapped wildly.
"Again!"
Franco released Reid and calmly returned to his chair.
Reid lifted his head.
"I saw my ancestors."
Hours later, the group slowly scattered.
Bethany left first, face unreadable.
Dylan announced he needed "beauty sleep for the nation."
Reid claimed he was staying until someone cooked noodles.
Franco vanished so quietly no one noticed when.
Stacy curtsied awkwardly and went back to work.
At last, Trinidad stood alone in the lounge.
The mansion felt bigger at night.
Quieter.
She turned to head upstairs—
And walked straight into a wall.
A very solid wall.
Hands caught her shoulders.
She looked up.
Colt.
Of course.
He stared down at her.
"You're loud."
She stepped back quickly.
"You move like a ghost."
"This is my house."
"Then make louder footsteps."
His gaze shifted toward the lounge.
"You seem comfortable."
She crossed her arms.
"Your friends are less terrible than you."
"That sounds like praise."
"It was an insult."
He stepped aside to let her pass.
But as she moved by, he spoke again.
"You entertained them."
She paused.
"Was that your way of saying thank you?"
"No."
"Then I'll pretend it was."
She resumed walking.
"Trinidad."
She turned.
He was still watching her.
That unreadable look again.
Then he said:
"Do that impression of me again."
She blinked.
"What?"
"The one downstairs."
Her mouth fell open.
"You were listening?"
He said nothing.
A slow grin spread across her face.
Then, with bold wickedness, she slipped one hand into an imaginary pocket, lifted her chin, and gave him the coldest arrogant stare she could manage.
"Leave," she said in a deep fake voice. "You're breathing too loudly."
One second passed.
Then another.
And to Trinidad's complete shock—
Colt laughed.
A real laugh.
Low.
Brief.
Dangerously handsome.
She froze.
He froze too, like the sound had escaped by accident.