It’s Sadie standing between cameras and her daughter.
It’s the internet deciding they deserve public access to two people who never asked for attention.
“You really think this would help?” I ask quietly.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Controlled appearances. One clear narrative. Fewer paparazzi incentives. Less speculation.”
“And when it ends?”
“Then it ends quietly.”
I look toward the lake again. Snow continues falling over Briar Cove in thick white sheets.
Temporary.
That’s all this would be.
Temporary.
Still, something about the idea sits wrong in my chest.
Because fake or not…
last night hadn’t felt fake.
“Ten a.m.,” Maddie repeats. “Please don’t wear one of your tragic beanies.”
“I like my beanies.”
“They look emotionally unemployed.”
I hang up on her. By nine-thirty, Briar Cove has fully transformed into a media circus.
Fantastic.
Two paparazzi SUVs already sit outside Harbor House Café when I arrive.
I keep my head down and step inside.
Warmth hits immediately:
coffee
cinnamon
