A soft knock echoed through Ivan's apartment. Harper left the bathroom to find Ivan frozen by the door.

“That's my ride,” she said simply.

“Don’t stay alone…” Ivan sounded sulky.

“It is none of your business.” She grabbed her bag from the couch.

Harper moved past Ivan to open the door. Oliver Vernon stood there in a cashmere coat with the familiar scent of his cologne. It felt suffocating. 

“Harper Owen, as radiant as ever, even after days in hiding?” His voice was sweet and dripping with charm.

“You look tired,” he concluded after glancing at her with sympathy. “Are you sleeping well?”

It felt like true compassion, so Harper had to remind herself about Oliver playing the role of being perfect.

“Enough.” She stepped back to let him in. “Thanks for coming.”

His eyes immediately went to Ivan in the living room. 

“Brother.” Oliver's tone was unnecessarily polite. “It’s quite unexpected to find Harper here.”

“She had to rest,” Ivan replied curtly.

Oliver turned back to Harper with a warm smile, his expression softening with practiced care. “I've been worried that I couldn’t reach you…”

Harper almost rolled her eyes. In her previous timeline, his calls, ignored amid the chaos, made her feel guilty for having a life outside his influence.

“I'm fine,” she said. “Needed some space to think.”

“Of course.” Oliver nodded. “After everything happened so quickly. Perhaps we could discuss it over lunch? That tiny place you love?”

The casual mention of 'her' favorite restaurant made Harper's skin crawl. He'd taken her there countless times, always deciding what she should like.

“I'd prefer to go home.”

“As you wish.” He moved closer. “My car is outside.”

Charlie had been observing the situation silently, but butted in between Harper and Oliver.

Oliver glanced down with mild amusement. “Still attached to strays, I see.”

“Charlie isn't a stray,” Harper said sharply.

“No, of course not.” Oliver's smile remained fixed. “I simply meant... well, you've always had such a soft spot for these things.”

His tone was subtle but unmistakable. Harper felt Ivan's gaze on her, watching the interaction with growing suspicion.

“What’s wrong with it? Let’s go,” she said to Oliver, eager to leave before Ivan could voice any objections.

“Let me help you.” Oliver helped her with the coat, his hands lingered on her shoulders. “Thank you for looking after her. I'll make sure she gets home safely.”

Ivan stepped forward. 

“Harper…”

“I'm fine,” she cut him off. “Really.”

His face showed genuine worry. And for a moment, she stopped looking him in the eyes. But when Oliver's hand settled on her lower back, guiding her toward the door, Harper remembered she needed to leave.

Ivan stood by the window after Harper and Oliver left, his fingers absently working the silver coin in his pocket. He flipped it. Heads. 

Mercy.

Always heads, when he needed to make a decision, he didn't want to face. Ivan had inherited both the coin and the weight of its decisions from his grandfather.

He flipped it again, watching it arc through the morning light streaming through his apartment window. Tails this time. 

“Tails.” He laughed bitterly. 

Tails meant to destroy all obstacles. The coin was mocking him, not offering simplicity to a situation that Ivan had been building for years.

His brother had learned early that charm could open doors. Ivan had watched Oliver perfecting that smile in the mirror as a teenager, practicing the exact tilt angle of his head that made adults believe him instantly. 

He'd seen Oliver use that same expression to talk their father out of punishments and to convince teachers to extend deadlines. That smile was crashing everything around Vernon’s family for years. 

It was making girls believe they were special. Ivan recognized the pattern because he'd seen it before. Always the same progression: fascination, pursuit, and control. The ending was coming as a careful disposal when people’d become inconvenient.

The coin spun again between Ivan’s fingers. Harper's reaction confused him, the way she maintained the careful distance while still playing along.

Was it different this time? Oliver seemed beyond his usual games. And Harper... she'd looked as if she might regret calling him.

He flipped the coin one last time, catching it against his palm. Heads.

The decision the coin offered was whether to show Oliver the mercy of a warning. He needed to give his brother one last chance to remember they were family. But some things mattered more than blood.

Ivan pocketed the coin while reaching for his phone.

Harper watched Oliver move around to the driver's side with theatrical precision for maximum effect.

“I tried calling you,” Oliver said, opening his car’s passenger door with a flourish. “You had me worried, vanishing like that.”

“Not vanishing,” Harper replied, sliding in. “Just… needed space.”

The seat and temperature were already adjusted to Harper’s preferences, and she felt uncertain about it.

He climbed in and started the engine. “Space? At my brother’s...” He cut himself.

“With everything happening recently,” he began meaningfully. “The board’s members are asking difficult questions.”

Harper kept her expression neutral. “What kind of questions?”

“Some are suggesting it might be time to consider… an alternative team for acquisition.”

“Alternative…” Harper repeated.

She knew what kind of result his actions could bring, an outcome far from guiding through the crisis. She’d learnt it in another timeline, after Oliver had ensured everyone that he was the savior of LV.

He reached over to squeeze her hand. Harper pulled it right away, pretending to adjust her seatbelt. 

“We could rebuild it into something even stronger than your father imagined,” Oliver said.

“That's very generous of you,” she said carefully.

“Harper.” Oliver pulled into her building's parking garage and turned to face her fully. ‘I know things are awkward between us lately, yet I've never stopped caring about you. About your future.”

Here it was.

“Don’t start,” she said, staring out the window. 

“I’m not starting anything,” he said, voice smooth as velvet. “I’m here as a knight, if you will.”

“No knights.” Harper’s tone was flat. “Just a ride.”

Oliver chuckled. “Come now, Harp. We were close friends once.” His eyes flicked to her.

She tried not to recall how he’d charmed her before.

“We understood each other,” he continued. “And now, perhaps it's fate bringing us back."

Harper sighed. Now she could hear all the calculation behind his words. Oliver’s honeyed words were covering his ambitions.

“Oh, perhaps,” Harper agreed, her tone light. “Do you practice that concerned wrinkle of your brow in the mirror, or does it just come naturally now?”

“Harper?” Oliver's voice carried an irking note beneath.

“What? I'm complimenting you,” she turned to him with wide, innocent eyes. “It takes real talent to alter 'I was worried about you' into 'look how devoted I am.' It takes years of practice.”

“You seem... different today.”

"Do I?" Harper tilted her head, copying his practiced gesture. “How so?”

“More…” He searched for the word. “Alert.”

“Ah.” Harper nodded sagely. “You mean I'm not falling for your performance of concern.” 

Harper examined her nails with exaggerated interest. “Though I have to say, you've really perfected the timing. That pause before 'Harper Owen, as radiant as ever' is pure theater. Very effective.”

Oliver smiled with confusion. “I meant what I said.”

“I'm sure you did. At that moment.” She said with a mock sympathy. “That's what makes it so believable. You feel it while you're saying it, don't you? True devotion.”

Harper’s gaze became cold. “Right up until it stops serving your purpose.”

“You accuse me of what?”

“No, no. I am only observing.” Harper turned to look out the window. 

“'I'll make sure she gets home safely,' you told Ivan.” She continued conversationally.

“I was being courteous.”

"Were you? Or were you marking territory?”

Oliver's carefully controlled breathing hitched slightly. “That's crude.”

“But accurate.” Harper smiled sweetly. 

“I think spending time with my brother has given you some very strange ideas."

"Has it? Voicing thoughts I've been having for quite some time?" Her voice remained almost friendly. 

“That's not what I meant.”

Oliver pulled into her building's parking garage with perhaps more speed than the space required. The car suddenly felt too small, too warm. Harper unbuckled her seatbelt but made no move, catching her breath.

“Thanks for the ride, Oliver,” she finally said and reached for the door handle.

“Anytime, Harper. I'm here for a real conversation.” Oliver said, his smile too perfect. 

She was out of the car, breathing the cool garage air and putting distance between them.

Harper dropped her bag by the door and went straight to the kitchen, needing the ritual of making coffee.

“Not the best choice for an anxiety survivor,” she said, looking at a jar of coffee beans. She sniffed it and put it away.

She was searching for chamomile tea when her phone rang.

The display showed her consulting team’s video call.

Harper's hands started shaking as they never called together unless things were seriously wrong.