10-11-2026, 08:46 PM
Months of hard work were finally beginning to culminate in something tangible, but as the world around her grew, Natalie felt little of it. Michael Vellas had proved an interesting encounter, and ultimately he had given her what she needed – with stipulations, of course. Something subtle in his manner had suggested they were of a similar mind when it came to contingency, making the concessions easier to accept despite the risks of the alliance. Not long after, another Dominion had made a request that left her with an additional charge, though she had flatly pointed out there was little she could do to help him. Neither could she quite bring herself to turn him away, though.
Rachel Shale had accepted the offer to move in and assist with the renovations, and with Emily and Zhenya's guidance, she was making slow progress in both learning and healing. Natalie’s networks continued to grow organically. More recently, a meeting with Colette Moreau had kept the door to Evelyn's influence ajar, with an open invitation to explore Belizna for herself at her convenience. In Colette's reactions especially, Natalie had witnessed the idea truly spreading its own wings for the first time. Watching her enthusiasm over a business lunch, even she had begun to wonder if this was something she might be able to believe in.
Everything was progressing the way it was supposed to.
That really should have been enough.
Belizna was an idea born in tragedy, shaped to life inside dilapidated castle walls, and forged from the bones of nothing by a partnership made on not much more than the turn of a whim. It should have left her feeling accomplished. Excited, even. This was a future she had made with her own two hands, rather than one she had spent years trying to escape. Yet in the rare quiet moments she allowed herself, satisfaction was never what she found waiting there.
Perhaps that was why she kept herself so busy.
The announcement of Adrian's inspection wasn't unexpected now that his investment had taken shape, though she had been dryly amused when he made it plain he intended to stay a while, given how hands-off their business relationship had been. Not that she had any complaints. The speed and craftsmanship of the work were exactly what she had stipulated, and more than she could have expected; the ship he ran was beyond efficient. His people were easy to work with, too, nonplussed by the long and sometimes unusual hours Natalie kept. It had certainly made things smoother. There was no fanfare to his reception of him, but neither was he unwelcome.
She habitually rose early, and turned in late. Softer routines were always the first things to disappear when Natalie was focused, and focus for her was usually sparked by frustration. Beyond the necessary affairs of Belizna, she sank hours into the dead-end lead of the necklace Toma had given her, searching for whoever had instigated the break-in. There had been no call from London, or at least none concerning the apartment, which meant Toma had inexplicably failed to report it. Natalie might have confronted her, but the woman was more seldom around these days.
Jay was distant too, fallen back into old patterns of avoidance that left Natalie feeling diminished. Yet the wound it pressed on had worn down to a familiar callous by now. She grieved in private sometimes, and accepted that the spark she cradled was simply not enough to sustain itself. Not with everything that had happened. He was alive, and that mattered more than any softer emotion inside. Neither was he drowning every night in whatever might take the edge off. Natalie would ensure he survived, whether he wanted her to or not, and if she had to do that from the distance he created, so be it. The walls were already built; Natalie had spent half her life that way. Maybe the purpose made it hurt less. Or maybe not. She didn’t allow herself the introspection.
Then there were the phone calls.
Late at night, most often, and usually from the American lawyers. The Carpenter estate was settled, but the matter of the mystery Trust remained. For a brief moment it had seemed they might concede her authority, or at least answer her questions about it, only to suddenly turn about now and slam the bars down completely. She had no idea what had caused the reversal, but since she was leaning heavily on bullshit and her family name, she could hardly be surprised. Threat of legal action had been floated in their last communication. Which meant she really needed to speak to Jay before it landed her in actual trouble. Only, she'd wanted to have something in the way of answers before she did. He might think he was fooling the world, but the cracks were palpable. The last thing she wanted was to fracture them deeper with some life-upending revelation she couldn't even be sure was true.
She hadn’t seen him that morning. She rarely did, though she often enough heard about the rounds he made across the grounds. The work crews liked him and found him useful in equal measure; he was that sort of man, to catch attention. Usually she would have been out by now herself, rather than nursing a cold and unfinished coffee in the room they shared, but she’d just ended an impossibly frustrating and expected phonecall with Helena Asquith. Anger simmered behind her expression as she processed the complication. She was utterly still, face like glass, entirely braced inwards. After a moment she slammed a hand down on the piano keys, grit her teeth, and stood. The discordant vibration lingered. Natalie sat on the bench often enough, though she never played. It was the only outlet she allowed herself before everything smoothed away. Another problem to shelve and battle later – one look at the window told her she wasn’t making it to the city today. And she wanted to speak to Helena in person.
A waiting message from Colette said she was battling the snows, too close now to head back into Moscow, which Natalie acknowledged with a reply. But before she headed down to the entrance foyer she would need to speak to the foreman. Nothing in the forecast had suggested problematic weather, but if it was changing as rapidly as it now seemed, she needed to check in with them. It was enough to draw her back into the present. She took another small moment, smoothed the hair from her temple, and slipped the wallet in a back pocket before she headed for the door.
Rachel Shale had accepted the offer to move in and assist with the renovations, and with Emily and Zhenya's guidance, she was making slow progress in both learning and healing. Natalie’s networks continued to grow organically. More recently, a meeting with Colette Moreau had kept the door to Evelyn's influence ajar, with an open invitation to explore Belizna for herself at her convenience. In Colette's reactions especially, Natalie had witnessed the idea truly spreading its own wings for the first time. Watching her enthusiasm over a business lunch, even she had begun to wonder if this was something she might be able to believe in.
Everything was progressing the way it was supposed to.
That really should have been enough.
Belizna was an idea born in tragedy, shaped to life inside dilapidated castle walls, and forged from the bones of nothing by a partnership made on not much more than the turn of a whim. It should have left her feeling accomplished. Excited, even. This was a future she had made with her own two hands, rather than one she had spent years trying to escape. Yet in the rare quiet moments she allowed herself, satisfaction was never what she found waiting there.
Perhaps that was why she kept herself so busy.
The announcement of Adrian's inspection wasn't unexpected now that his investment had taken shape, though she had been dryly amused when he made it plain he intended to stay a while, given how hands-off their business relationship had been. Not that she had any complaints. The speed and craftsmanship of the work were exactly what she had stipulated, and more than she could have expected; the ship he ran was beyond efficient. His people were easy to work with, too, nonplussed by the long and sometimes unusual hours Natalie kept. It had certainly made things smoother. There was no fanfare to his reception of him, but neither was he unwelcome.
She habitually rose early, and turned in late. Softer routines were always the first things to disappear when Natalie was focused, and focus for her was usually sparked by frustration. Beyond the necessary affairs of Belizna, she sank hours into the dead-end lead of the necklace Toma had given her, searching for whoever had instigated the break-in. There had been no call from London, or at least none concerning the apartment, which meant Toma had inexplicably failed to report it. Natalie might have confronted her, but the woman was more seldom around these days.
Jay was distant too, fallen back into old patterns of avoidance that left Natalie feeling diminished. Yet the wound it pressed on had worn down to a familiar callous by now. She grieved in private sometimes, and accepted that the spark she cradled was simply not enough to sustain itself. Not with everything that had happened. He was alive, and that mattered more than any softer emotion inside. Neither was he drowning every night in whatever might take the edge off. Natalie would ensure he survived, whether he wanted her to or not, and if she had to do that from the distance he created, so be it. The walls were already built; Natalie had spent half her life that way. Maybe the purpose made it hurt less. Or maybe not. She didn’t allow herself the introspection.
Then there were the phone calls.
Late at night, most often, and usually from the American lawyers. The Carpenter estate was settled, but the matter of the mystery Trust remained. For a brief moment it had seemed they might concede her authority, or at least answer her questions about it, only to suddenly turn about now and slam the bars down completely. She had no idea what had caused the reversal, but since she was leaning heavily on bullshit and her family name, she could hardly be surprised. Threat of legal action had been floated in their last communication. Which meant she really needed to speak to Jay before it landed her in actual trouble. Only, she'd wanted to have something in the way of answers before she did. He might think he was fooling the world, but the cracks were palpable. The last thing she wanted was to fracture them deeper with some life-upending revelation she couldn't even be sure was true.
She hadn’t seen him that morning. She rarely did, though she often enough heard about the rounds he made across the grounds. The work crews liked him and found him useful in equal measure; he was that sort of man, to catch attention. Usually she would have been out by now herself, rather than nursing a cold and unfinished coffee in the room they shared, but she’d just ended an impossibly frustrating and expected phonecall with Helena Asquith. Anger simmered behind her expression as she processed the complication. She was utterly still, face like glass, entirely braced inwards. After a moment she slammed a hand down on the piano keys, grit her teeth, and stood. The discordant vibration lingered. Natalie sat on the bench often enough, though she never played. It was the only outlet she allowed herself before everything smoothed away. Another problem to shelve and battle later – one look at the window told her she wasn’t making it to the city today. And she wanted to speak to Helena in person.
A waiting message from Colette said she was battling the snows, too close now to head back into Moscow, which Natalie acknowledged with a reply. But before she headed down to the entrance foyer she would need to speak to the foreman. Nothing in the forecast had suggested problematic weather, but if it was changing as rapidly as it now seemed, she needed to check in with them. It was enough to draw her back into the present. She took another small moment, smoothed the hair from her temple, and slipped the wallet in a back pocket before she headed for the door.
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