The first rule Gerard gave her was simple.
Never move alone.
The second was crueler.
Never assume.
Hilary repeated both rules in her head as she stepped into the hotel's private elevator, fingers curled around the strap of her bag, red ribbon secured tightly around her wrist.
Today was supposed to be easy.
A short walk.
A private tasting.
No crowd.
Gerard was supposed to meet her on the third floor.
The doors slid open.
The scent greeted her instantly.
Cedar.
Amber.
Warm.
Her chest loosened.
Relief flooded her body so fast it made her dizzy.
"You're early," she said softly, stepping forward.
Arms wrapped around her.
Familiar height.
Familiar strength.
She leaned into the embrace without hesitation.
"I was scared you wouldn't come," she whispered.
The arms stiffened.
Just slightly.
The scent shifted.
Sweetened.
Sharper.
Almost right.
Almost.
Her breath caught.
She pulled back.
The face in front of her meant nothing.
Blank.
Unrecognizable.
But the voice—
"Hilar—"
She recoiled as if burned.
"Don't," she said sharply.
The man froze.
Confusion flickered across his posture.
"It's me," he said quickly. "Gerard."
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
"No," she whispered. "No, you're—"
Her hands shook.
She stepped back.
"Stop pretending."
The hallway felt suddenly too bright.
Too exposed.
The man reached out instinctively.
She slapped his hand away.
"Don't touch me!"
The words echoed.
Footsteps stopped.
Voices hushed.
Someone gasped.
Hilary's lungs burned.
She turned sharply, searching with her breath.
There.
From behind.
Cedar.
Amber.
Clean.
Undiluted.
"Hilary."
That voice.
Real.
She spun toward it just as Gerard stepped forward.
Her Gerard.
She collapsed into his arms without warning, fingers clutching his jacket like she might disappear if she let go.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry."
The other man stood frozen several steps away.
Bianca stepped out from a side corridor.
"Oh my," she said softly. "What happened?"
Hilary didn't look at her.
She couldn't.
Gerard's arms tightened protectively around his wife.
"Step back," he said coldly.
Bianca raised her hands. "Of course. I was just worried."
The man—one of the senior managers—cleared his throat awkwardly.
"I didn't realize," he said quickly. "She came toward me, and I thought—"
Gerard cut him off. "You're done here."
The manager retreated without another word.
The hallway buzzed with whispered speculation.
Hilary could feel it.
Eyes.
Judgment.
Curiosity.
Her nightmare—no longer private.
Gerard guided her into a private lounge and closed the door behind them.
Silence fell.
Hilary slid down onto the couch, body shaking uncontrollably.
"I thought it was you," she whispered. "I really did."
Gerard crouched in front of her, hands hovering in the air—asking permission.
She nodded weakly.
He took her hands gently.
"It wasn't your fault."
"I hugged the wrong man," she said, voice cracking. "In public."
Her chest tightened painfully.
"I humiliated you."
He shook his head firmly. "You survived."
Tears spilled freely now.
"What if next time I don't realize?" she whispered. "What if I stay in the wrong arms?"
His jaw clenched.
"That won't happen."
She laughed bitterly. "You can't promise that."
He inhaled slowly.
"No," he admitted. "But I can promise this."
He leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers.
"I will never let you face this alone."
Her fingers tightened around his.
"I don't trust myself," she said.
"Then trust me."
She nodded shakily.
A knock came at the door.
Gerard straightened immediately. "Not now."
The door opened anyway.
Bianca stepped inside.
"I heard there was an incident," she said gently. "The staff is worried."
Gerard's eyes turned glacial.
"You're dismissed."
Bianca blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You are not to be near my wife without me present," he said flatly.
Hilary's stomach twisted.
Bianca's smile didn't falter.
"Of course," Bianca said smoothly. "I only wanted to help."
She turned to Hilary.
"I'm sorry you were confused," Bianca added softly. "It must be terrifying… not knowing who to trust."
Hilary's breath hitched.
Bianca stepped back and left.
The door closed.
Hilary stared at the space where Bianca had stood.
"She knew," Hilary whispered.
Gerard nodded slowly. "Yes."
"And she enjoyed it."
Silence stretched.
Hilary looked down at her trembling hands.
"I don't want to go out anymore," she said. "I don't want people looking at me like that."
Gerard sat beside her.
"You don't have to."
"But I will," she said quietly. "Because if I hide… she wins."
He studied her for a long moment.
Then nodded. "Then we fight smarter."
She leaned into him, exhausted.
Outside the lounge, unseen by them both, Bianca paused.
She inhaled deeply.
Cedar.
Amber.
Her smile curved.
Phase one was complete.
Hilary didn't remember how long she sat there.
Time dissolved into the rhythm of Gerard's breathing and the distant hum of the hotel's machinery. The world outside the lounge felt unreal—like a rumor she could hear but no longer touch.
"Look at me," Gerard said gently.
She shook her head. "I can't."
"I know," he said. "Then listen."
She did.
"I'm right here," he continued. "My hands are on yours. Count."
She squeezed once. Then twice.
"Good," he said. "Now breathe with me."
They did—slow, deliberate, fragile.
Her pulse settled enough for words to return.
"I felt safe," she whispered. "For half a second, I felt safe."
He didn't flinch.
"That doesn't belong to anyone else," he said. "Safety is ours."
Her lips trembled. "I hugged him."
"You reached for what your brain thought was me," he corrected. "That's not betrayal."
"It looked like it," she said. "From the outside."
He exhaled. "The outside doesn't get a vote."
A phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Gerard glanced at the screen and went still.
"What?" Hilary asked.
"Nothing," he said too quickly.
She tightened her grip. "Gerard."
He closed his eyes briefly, then turned the phone so she could hear the vibration patterns—messages stacking.
"Someone filmed it," he said quietly.
Her stomach dropped.
"The hallway?"
"Yes."
She pressed her lips together, fighting the wave of nausea. "So now it's a story."
"It won't be," he said. "I'll stop it."
"How?" Her voice cracked. "You can't un-hug a mistake."
He reached up, brushing his thumb along her knuckles. "Then we tell the truth before they twist it."
She laughed weakly. "The truth is ugly."
"The truth is loyal," he said. "That matters."
A knock came—soft, respectful.
Gerard stood. "Stay."
She nodded.
The door opened a fraction.
"It's security," a voice said. "Sir… the staff is asking how to respond."
Gerard didn't hesitate. "No statements. No speculation. Anyone who leaks footage is terminated."
A pause. "Understood."
The door closed again.
Hilary's shoulders sagged.
"I don't want to be your weakness," she said.
"You're my reason," he replied.
She swallowed. "Those are different things."
He returned to her side, sitting low so his voice wouldn't feel like authority. "Then let's change the rules."
She tilted her head. "How?"
"No more guessing," he said. "We add layers."
"Layers?"
"My ring," he said. "My watch. A phrase I only use with you. And—"
He paused.
"And?"
"And a rule," he finished. "I never approach you from behind."
Her chest tightened. "That would've helped."
"I know," he said. "I'm learning too."
Silence settled—thicker now, but steadier.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A different rhythm.
She froze.
"Don't," he said softly. "You don't have to read it."
"I do," she replied. "If I don't… I'll imagine worse."
She unlocked the screen.
A message preview flashed—short, polite, devastating.
*Are you okay? I saw what happened. I'm here if you need help.*
The sender's name meant nothing.
But the timing did.
Her fingers curled.
"She's already framing herself as safe," Hilary whispered.
Gerard's jaw tightened. "She's fishing."
"And I'm bleeding," Hilary said. "That's why she caught something."
She locked the phone and handed it to him.
"Block it," she said.
He did—without question.
Another knock. Lighter footsteps this time.
"Mama?"
Hilary's breath hitched.
Jessica slipped inside, eyes darting between them. She climbed onto the couch, straight into Hilary's lap, arms wrapping tight.
"People were talking," Jessica whispered. "They were loud."
Hilary held her daughter, rocking gently. "I know."
Jessica sniffed Hilary's sleeve, then frowned. "You smell scared."
Hilary kissed her hair. "A little."
Jessica sniffed again, serious. "Papa smells angry."
Gerard managed a thin smile. "Only at the right things."
Jessica nodded, satisfied, then leaned closer to Hilary's ear. "That lady smells like Papa."
The room went very still.
Gerard's hand clenched.
Hilary's heart pounded. "Which lady, sweetheart?"
"The kitchen one," Jessica said. "The one who smiles with her mouth but not her eyes."
Hilary closed her eyes.
There it was.
Confirmation—pure and unfiltered.
"Thank you for telling me," Hilary said softly.
Jessica hugged her tighter. "Don't hug the wrong one again, okay?"
A tear slipped free.
"I'll try," Hilary whispered.
Later, after Jessica fell asleep in Gerard's arms and the room dimmed, Hilary sat alone in the quiet.
She replayed the moment.
The warmth.
The almost-right scent.
The split second where relief fooled her.
Her chest ached.
From the hallway, faint laughter drifted—Bianca's voice, unmistakable.
Hilary stood slowly.
Her legs were steady now.
She walked to the door and opened it just enough to let the sound in.
Bianca was speaking softly to someone unseen.
"I'm just worried about her," Bianca said. "Confusion can make people… dangerous."
Hilary closed the door.
Her hands didn't shake.
This wasn't fear anymore.
It was clarity.
She returned to the couch and sat beside Gerard, careful not to wake him or Jessica.
"I won't hide," she whispered to the dark. "And I won't guess."
She reached for the red ribbon and retied it—tighter this time.
Outside, Bianca's laughter faded down the corridor.
Inside, Hilary made a decision.
Next time, she wouldn't run from the wrong arms.
She would learn how to make them let go.