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Chapter Text

Edmund Bridgerton, the proud yet somewhat clueless heir to the Bridgerton Broadcasting Industry, but he had a peculiar charm his brain didn’t always keep up with the bucks. He was sweet, innocent, and slower than molasses in January when it came to understanding things. So, when his friends invited him to a party at the age of 20 his first party ever he thought, Finally, I’m one of the cool teenager!

The night was full of firsts. First time meeting so many people. First time trying soda that definitely wasn’t just soda. And, of course, his first time playing Truth or Dare.

Things were going great. Edmund was laughing and clapping along, not fully understanding half of what was going on, but hey, he was having fun! Then, the dreaded moment came: the bottle spun... and landed on him.

"Truth or dare?" his friend asked, with a devilish grin.

Edmund, blissfully unaware of the brewing chaos, chose truth. He didn’t think much of it until the question came:
"Describe your first kiss in detail."

Now, poor Edmund had two problems. One, he had never kissed anyone. Two, he had only recently discovered what actually leads to babies after accidentally stumbling upon his dad’s laptop and a very questionable folder labeled “Work Documents.” (Spoiler: It was not work.)

Panic set in. His mind raced like a snail on a treadmill. He couldn’t admit he had never kissed anyone; his friends would roast him into next year! But he also didn’t know how to lie convincingly. While his brain scrambled for a solution, 10 minutes passed.

When he finally opened his mouth to speak, he noticed his friends were already rolling on the floor, laughing at his dumbstruck face. The girls were giggling too. Edmund had missed the chance to answer entirely. Classic Edmund.

But just when he thought he’d never live it down, he caught the eye of a shy, beautiful girl with long black hair. She wasn’t laughing at him like the others. Instead, she smiled—a warm, reassuring smile that said, It’s okay to be different.

And in that moment, Edmund’s heart did something it had never done before: skipped a beat. Maybe it was love. Or maybe it was gas from the weird “soda” he’d been drinking. Either way, Edmund realized something—being slow didn’t matter if there was someone out there who saw him for who he was.

A few weeks after the party, Edmund bumped into the same girl again. Her name? He never got around to asking. But she invited him over for dinner. One thing led to another, and the next morning, Edmund woke up in her house, confused but oddly proud. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t clueless about everything.

Until her parents walked in.

The dad was furious, the mom was horrified, and Edmund? Well, he was just happy he wasn’t a virgin anymore. They kicked him out of the house with enough threats to make a mob boss blush. As Edmund stood outside, disheveled and still clutching one of his socks, he thought, Best. Night. Ever.

Nine months passed. Life went back to normal for Edmund—or as normal as it could be for him. He didn’t hear from the girl again and didn’t think much about her. After all, he didn’t even know her name.

Then, one random Tuesday, his phone rang.

“Hello?” Edmund answered, mid-bite of a sandwich.

“It’s me,” a voice said.

“Uh, who?” Edmund squinted at the number.

“I’m the girl. From that night.”

“Ohhh! Hi! I was wondering when—”

“I had a baby. He’s yours.”

Silence. Total silence.

For a solid minute, Edmund’s brain shut down. He didn’t hear anything after the word “father.” His sandwich slipped from his hand. His jaw dropped. His heart felt like it was trying to sprint a marathon.

When he finally managed to reboot his thoughts, he croaked out, “Wait…what’s your name?”

There was a pause, then a chuckle on the other end of the line. “Violet,” she said, her voice calm and amused.

And for some reason, Edmund smiled. It wasn’t panic or fear or regret. It was...hope. Because for the first time, he wasn’t running away from something he didn’t understand. He was stepping into a new chapter of his life—one filled with diapers, confusion, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of love.

“Well, Violet,” Edmund said, standing a little taller, “I guess we’ve got some catching up to do.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Edmund had always been a man of questionable decisions, but showing up at his father’s doorstep with a baby in one hand and an evicted girlfriend in the other? That was a new level of audacity.

“Trust me,” Edmund assured Violet as they approached the towering Bridgerton mansion. “My dad will totally understand.”

Violet, carrying baby Anthony, shot him a skeptical glance. “Are you sure? This sounds like one of those times you’re...what’s the word? Oh, wrong.”

Edmund waved her off. “Relax! I’m his only son. He’ll be thrilled about having a grandson.”
When Harold Bridgerton opened the door, he wasn’t greeted by his usual serene evening. Instead, he found his son standing there, grinning like an idiot, with a woman and a baby in tow.

“What is this?” Harold demanded, his voice filled with equal parts confusion and dread.

“Hi, Dad!” Edmund chirped. “Meet Violet, my girlfriend. And this,” he added dramatically, holding up the baby carrier like he was unveiling a masterpiece, “is Anthony Bridgerton . Your grandson!”

For a long, terrifying moment, Harold said nothing. Then, slowly, his face turned the color of an overripe tomato. “YOUR WHAT?!”

“Our son,” Edmund clarified, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“This is a joke, right?” Harold spluttered. “A prank? Did someone from the rival station put you up to this?”

“Nope,” Edmund said cheerfully. “We’re here to stay!”

Harold immediately launched into a rant so loud, it probably disrupted local radio signals. “You waltz in here with no warning, a woman I’ve never met, and a BABY? What do you expect me to do, Edmund? Throw a parade?!”

“Well, balloons would be nice,” Edmund offered.

Harold pinched the bridge of his nose. “You. All of you. Out. Of. My. House.”

“You can’t kick me out,” Edmund countered, crossing his arms.

“And why not?” Harold roared.

“Because I’m your only son,” Edmund said smugly. “And your only heir. If I leave, who’s going to inherit the Bridgerton Broadcasting Station? Your antique radio collection?”

Harold froze, the weight of Edmund’s words sinking in. He looked from Edmund to Violet to baby Anthony, who had just let out a loud, adorable burp. “Fine,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “You can stay. But only because I need an heir. And for the record, I’m not happy about this!”
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Life in the Bridgerton household moved at breakneck speed. Baby Anthony arrived, followed quickly by Benedict, who Edmund held like he’d just been handed a live grenade. He smiled, though—because if nothing else, he had his dimples going for him.
Then came the twins, Colin and Daphne, two years later. Edmund strutted into the room, one baby in each arm, looking like a victorious contestant on The Great Baby Delivery Show. Violet, swamped in chaos, could only shake her head.
Eloise entered next, with the personality of a hurricane and the lungs of a rock star. She announced her arrival by kicking a nurse and glaring at everyone present. Edmund, unfazed, scooped her up like he’d been through worse. (Spoiler: He had.)
Three years later, Francisca joined the lineup. By then, the hospital staff greeted the Bridgertons like old friends, handing them their usual room. Edmund, now an expert baby wrangler, calmly cradled her while simultaneously dodging the chaos of the waiting toddlers.
Gregory followed, adding to the household that had officially become a daycare. Edmund held him while stepping over a scattered minefield of toys, managing to look both exhausted and triumphant. Parenting was now his ultimate endurance test.
Finally, Hyacinth made her debut. By then, Violet was asleep before the confetti could drop, leaving Edmund to cradle their last baby like a seasoned pro. He glanced around the bustling room, silently declaring victory. Eight kids in ten years? The Bridgertons didn’t just survive—they thrived.
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Harold, watching his 30-year-old son Edmund juggle 8 kids, no income, and the maturity of a golden retriever, decided enough was enough. For the sake of Edmund’s wife and their “dozen minus 4” kids, Harold did the only logical thing: packed their bags and kicked them out. “Sink or swim, son,” he said, handing over a baby bottle and a pat on the back. “But preferably swim you’ve got eight little passengers on board.”
He offered Edmund a job at his broadcasting station and packed him off to the Bridgerton Working Hostel—a rent-free lodge with the aesthetics of a haunted house and the functionality of a motivational boot camp.
The hostel, once Harold’s dad’s hideout during his before-he-was-rich days, was legendary. Grandpa of Edmund had started from the bottom, built his empire, and bought the place as a “character-building” tool for employees. It wasn’t cozy; it was more like a life coach that screamed, Get your act together!
Harold thought, If this place turned my dad into a media mogul, it can turn Edmund into a functioning adult. The hostel was 10% ghost vibes and 90% “you better fix your life.” As Edmund watched his kids fight over the least-creepy bed and his wife stared at the cracked ceiling, he realized Harold wasn’t punishing him he was pushing him. Deep down, Edmund knew this hellhole was Harold’s way of saying, Be a better husband, father, and human.
he muttered under his breath, “You better be prepared for babysitting shifts, Dad.”

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Edmund's first two years at the company were, to put it lightly, an unmitigated disaster. Imagine someone trying to learn to swim by being thrown into a pool—except the pool was full of sharks, and one of the sharks was his own father. Harold, ever the loving but mischievous parent, made sure Edmund was the butt of every office joke. The employees didn’t help either, since Edmund’s slow understanding of things gave them plenty of material.
One infamous incident occurred during an important board meeting. Harold had assigned Edmund the task of presenting their new advertising campaign to a room full of investors. Determined to show he could rise to the challenge, Edmund worked tirelessly—or so he thought.

When the projector flickered on, the first slide read: "Top 10 Ways to Potty Train Your Toddler."

The room went dead silent for a beat before bursting into uncontrollable laughter, with Harold laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. Edmund, oblivious to the mistake, thought the reaction was positive. “See?” he said confidently. “I told you this would grab attention!”

What Edmund didn’t realize was that he had accidentally uploaded his wife Violet’s parenting group presentation instead of the actual campaign. And as he went on, enthusiastically explaining “Step 1: Pick the Right Potty Seat,” Harold interrupted, tears streaming down his face.

“Edmund,” Harold gasped, barely containing his laughter, “are we advertising diapers now?”

The entire room was in hysterics, and Edmund, finally catching on, turned bright red. “This is... innovative marketing!” he stammered, trying to salvage the situation.

From that day forward, Edmund earned the unfortunate nickname Potty King. But to his credit, he didn’t quit. “If I can survive this,” he muttered to himself later, “I can survive anything.” Harold, meanwhile, swore he hadn’t laughed that hard in decades and secretly started calling more meetings just to see what Edmund would mess up next.
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Edmund’s rise from the company’s walking punchline to its brightest star was nothing short of legendary. After the infamous Potty King incident, he realized if he could survive that level of embarrassment, he could handle anything. He threw himself into connecting with his coworkers, learning their names, birthdays, and snack preferences—boosting morale in a way Harold never could.
Then came Edmund’s genius idea: a heartwarming marketing campaign, "Home Is Where the Channel Is," which went viral and made the company #1. In no time, Edmund became the company’s beloved figure—replacing the nickname Potty King with Captain Sunshine (though Harold still used the old one to tease him).
Harold, watching Edmund flourish, couldn’t help but feel proud. On his retirement day, Harold handed over the keys to the company with a grin, saying, “You’ve earned this, son. Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency—I’ve got grandkids to spoil.”
Harold did spoil them, teaching them all the mischief he used to torment Edmund with. As for Edmund? He not only ran the company to new heights but carried his parents’ legacy, proving that with a little humor and a lot of heart, anything is possible.
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Violet watched her husband, Edmund, grow from a man who had barely held it together to someone who now carried the weight of their family and their future with pride. She saw the quiet struggles, the moments when he doubted himself, and the times when it seemed like everything was against him. Yet, she also saw the strength in him that no one else did—his unshakable love for her, their children, and his unwavering desire to do better.
Through the lows, when life felt too heavy, and through the highs, when Edmund found his place and purpose, Violet was there. She stood by him, not just as a wife, but as his biggest supporter. She admired the way he poured his heart into everything—into their children, into the company, into being the kind of father and husband they all deserved.
Their children, watching their father’s transformation, grew to respect and love him in ways they couldn’t fully express. They saw him as more than just a provider; he became their hero, the one who showed them that even in the toughest of times, love and determination could light the way.
And through it all, Violet knew. She knew that despite the struggles, Edmund had always been the man she believed in. And now, watching him thrive, she felt a deep sense of pride, knowing they had weathered the storm together, and their love had been the anchor that held them steady through it all.
On the night of his 38th birthday, December 31st, Edmund decided to do something special, something he had never had the chance to do before. He wanted to propose to Violet in a grand, unforgettable way—just the two of them, away from the chaos of their growing family.
When their first child, Antony, was born, life had swept them into a whirlwind of parenting, leaving no room for dates, proposals, or quiet moments alone. They had jumped straight into the beautiful mess of parenthood, but tonight, Edmund wanted to take a step back and remind Violet of the love they shared before it all began.
So Edmund chose a quiet, charming café on a hill, overlooking the city lights. The soft glow of candles flickered around the intimate space, and the gentle hum of music filled the air. With its rustic decor and serene atmosphere, it was the perfect place—away from the chaos—to remind Violet of the love they shared long before parenthood took over.
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Edmund sat at the café, nervously drumming his fingers on the table. Tonight was supposed to be perfect—a chance to reconnect with Violet and celebrate how far they had come. It was his father who had encouraged him to plan this evening, insisting on driving Violet himself to keep the surprise intact. His father wasn’t just his parent; he was everything—his mother, father, best friend, and mentor. The man who had seen Edmund at his lowest and helped him rise, not just for himself, but for Violet and their children.
The minutes stretched on, and Edmund’s anticipation began to shift into unease. Then, his phone rang. The number was unfamiliar, but something deep in his gut told him to answer.
“Hello?”
“Is this Edmund?” a shaky voice asked. “I’m calling about your wife’s phone. There’s been an accident. You need to come to City General Hospital immediately.”
The words sent a chill through Edmund, freezing him in place. He barely managed to whisper, “What happened?”
“Please come as soon as you can,” the voice urged.
The call ended, leaving Edmund in stunned silence. Shoving his phone into his pocket, he bolted out of the café, his mind racing as fast as his heart. The drive to the hospital was a blur, the city lights smearing together as dread pressed heavily on his chest.
When he arrived, the hospital’s sterile white walls and fluorescent lights felt suffocating. A nurse guided him to the emergency ward, her expression solemn.
A doctor approached him, his face etched with sympathy. “Mr. Edmund,” he began gently, “I’m so sorry. Your wife and father didn’t survive the accident.”
Edmund staggered, his legs threatening to give way beneath him. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “No, not my father… not Violet. This can’t be real.”
The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder, but his words barely registered. His father, the man who had shaped him, who had believed in him when no one else did, was gone. His father, who had been there when Edmund had nothing, pushing him to become the man he needed to be for Violet and their children. And Violet—his rock, his partner, his love—had been ripped away from him in the same cruel moment.
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The days following the accident passed in a blur for Edmund. The funeral was over far too quickly, leaving behind a deafening silence that swallowed their home. He stood at the edge of their empty bed every night, staring at Violet’s side, untouched, as if preserving it might bring her back. His father’s chair at the dining table sat vacant, an unbearable reminder of the man who had been his anchor.
Edmund was drowning. He didn’t know how to grieve for both the woman who was his heart and the man who was his soul. Violet had been his compass, his partner in life, and losing her felt like losing a part of himself. His father had been his guide, his strength when he faltered, and now that strength was gone. Left with only his eight children, he found himself unable to face them.
Anthony, at just 19, tried to shoulder the burden as best as he could, but he was just a boy pretending to be a man. Benedict, Colin, and Daphne, though brave in front of their younger siblings, often cried silently at night, their muffled sobs breaking through the quiet. The younger ones—Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, and little Hyacinth—were too young to understand the magnitude of what had happened. They simply missed their mother’s hugs and their grandfather’s stories, and they couldn’t comprehend why their father wouldn’t even look at them anymore.
Edmund couldn’t bear it. Every glance at their faces was like a dagger to his chest, each feature a reflection of Violet—her eyes, her smile, her laugh. He couldn’t escape the guilt that consumed him. His mind tormented him relentlessly.
If only I hadn’t planned that surprise. If only I had driven her myself. If only I hadn’t asked my father for help. The “what-ifs” spiraled endlessly, each one sinking him deeper into despair.
He stopped speaking. He stopped working. He stopped living.
The children tried to reach him. “Papa, please,” Daphne whispered one evening, clutching his sleeve. He couldn’t even meet her eyes. It hurt too much.
Eventually, Edmund did what he had always done when faced with pain—he ran. He couldn’t confront the weight of his failure, the heartbreak of looking at his children and seeing the family he’d destroyed. So, he convinced himself they would be better off without him. He hired a nanny to care for them, arranging everything they might need. He made sure the accounts were full, the house was stocked, and the children would have every material comfort. But he couldn’t give them himself.
One morning, before the sun rose, Edmund packed a small bag and left. He didn’t leave a note, didn’t say goodbye. He couldn’t face their questions, their tears, their pleas for him to stay.
Anthony was the first to discover he was gone. The realization struck him like a thunderclap, and he sat on the floor of his father’s empty room, clutching the edge of the bed, sobbing like he hadn’t allowed himself to before. The other children slowly realized what had happened. Daphne hugged Gregory tightly, tears streaming down her face as she tried to comfort him, even though she herself felt broken.
“Why would he leave us?” Francesca asked through hiccupping sobs. “Didn’t he love us?”
Anthony didn’t have an answer. None of them did.
In the days that followed, the house felt colder, emptier. The children banded together as best they could, but no one could replace their father. They carried on, but each step forward was tinged with a profound sense of loss—not just for their mother and grandfather, but for the father who had abandoned them when they needed him most.
And somewhere, far away, Edmund sat alone, consumed by his grief and guilt. He told himself he had done what was best for his children, but in his heart, he knew the truth: he had failed them. The man who had once been taught by his father to be strong and present had crumbled under the weight of his sorrow, leaving behind the very people he was meant to protect.
His days were filled with silence, his nights with regret. And no matter how far he ran, Edmund couldn’t escape the truth: he had lost everything, including himself.

Chapter Text

[one day before the Bridgerton Party...]

At 24, life feels like a balancing act, where one foot is in the world of *figuring things out* and the other is in *pretending you have it all together*. Some are charging ahead with careers, sending out resumes like they’re competing in a marathon, while others are perfectly content “thinking about it” while binge-watching yet another season of a show they’ll forget by next week. A handful of people have found *the one* and are building their futures together, while others are just dating for fun—playing the game but unsure if they want commitment or just someone who doesn’t ghost after a few hours. Some are already married, posting photos that look like they were taken straight from a romance movie, while others are staring at a pregnancy test in total disbelief, wondering how things escalated so quickly. It’s also the age of “glow-ups”—some are masters of fashion and skincare, making it look effortless, while others are still guessing which cream goes where. In this whirlwind of change, some are acting like they've got it all figured out... or at least pretending to. Welcome to the age where *"wise beyond your years"* takes on a whole new meaning.
And some are
“clueless”
Like…….
***
"Oi, Penelope Featherton!"
Edwina called out as she swung open the door to Featherton’s Bake & Shake.[Penelope father owns a bakery] Penelope looked up, her face lighting up with a smile before she rushed over and pulled Edwina into a tight hug. "It’s been way too long since I last saw you!" she exclaimed,
Edwina pulled back, grinning. "Yay, it’s been too long! You’re looking as fabulous as ever!"
Penelope playfully waved her off. "Oh, please, it's you I’m talking about! You've barely aged a day!"
Edwina shrugged and sighed dramatically. "Well, I’m back for good now, hunting for a job... because adulting is apparently a thing now. What about you, Pen?"
Penelope threw her hands up dramatically, grinning. "What about me? This is me! Watching this new bakery from day to night, and for the blessing of God, not a single customer walks in! I don’t know why, I’m starting to think the pastries have some kind of ‘do not enter’ vibe. Maybe they’re too delicious, and people are afraid they’ll get hooked!"
Edwina smiled, a playful glint in her eye. "Oh, this bakery is your papa’s idea, right?" she asked, as if everything suddenly made sense.
Penelope replied with a smirk,"Oh, absolutely! “
Edwina grinned, "Yay, The Great Archie Featherton's latest masterpiece truly, who wouldn't want to work under such genius?"
Penelope raised an eyebrow, her tone playful but defensive. "Are you making fun of my papa?" she asked, crossing her arms with a mock-serious expression.
Edwina raised an eyebrow. "Make fun of Archie Featherton? Never!" she said with exaggerated shock. "He's a genius, right?"
Penelope chuckled. "You know, Mama and Papa aren’t divorced. They just decided to start living separately. It's been almost two years. I stayed with Papa, and Prudence and Philippa stayed with Mama." She paused, as if remembering something. "So, when Mama started her bakery, Papa made fun of her—like, big time. But guess what? The moment Papa found out her bakery was actually successful, he started his own."
Edwina couldn’t help but laugh. "Classic Feathertons, right? Always in competition!"
Penelope smirked. "now….our’s bakery? Complete flop. I’m pretty sure even the birds outside wouldn’t touch his pastries!"
Edwina grinned. "Speaking of which, where is your papa?" she asked, looking around as if expecting him to pop out from behind a counter.
Penelope froze for a moment, then casually replied, "Oh..."
Just as she was about to say more, the door swung open, and Philippa stepped in, calling out to Penelope. " Penelope Featherton!" She stopped in her tracks when she saw Edwina. "Oh, hey, Edwina!"
Before Edwina could respond, Philippa turned to Penelope with a serious look. "Where’s Papa? I need to see him."
Penelope’s eyes widened in panic. "He’s not here," she said quickly.
Philippa raised an eyebrow. "Then call him."
Penelope stammered, "What’s going on?"
Philippa sighed dramatically. "Ask me what hasn't happened. Mama’s making a huge scene at home! She’s been trying to call Papa for weeks for the divorce, but he’s not answering or picking up any of our calls!"
Philippa, looking serious, raised an eyebrow. "Is he dead?"
Penelope’s eyes widened in shock. "What? No!" she replied, almost offended by the thought.
Philippa nodded, as if satisfied with the answer. "Okay, good. Then call him."
Penelope sighed dramatically, "He’s not talking through the phone!"
Philippa threw her hands up in mock exasperation. "Okay, noted. So, what, Mama’s about to file a missing person report at the police station? I think you’ll be the prime suspect, Penelope. You’re the one not telling us where he is!" She shot Penelope a teasing grin. "Good luck with that. I’m out!"
Penelope jumped in panic. "Stop!"
Edwina, looking back and forth between the two sisters, couldn’t help but grin. She was enjoying this little drama show.
Philippa crossed her arms, her expression deadpan. "Then tell me, where is Papa?"
Penelope took a deep breath, her tone dramatic. "One month ago, Papa gets this mysterious letter. He wouldn’t even let me see it, just said it was the ‘opportunity of a lifetime.’ Next thing I know, he’s packing a bag like some action hero, and announces, ‘Don’t worry, darling! In ten days, I’ll be back, and we’ll be filthy rich!’”
Edwina raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Classic Archie."
Penelope nodded, rolling her eyes. "Right? So, five days passed. Then ten. Then fifteen. And nothing. No calls, no letters—until finally, a letter arrives. And get this, it wasn’t even sealed! Just a crumpled piece of paper that says, ‘Don’t worry, Papa’s safe. We’re going to be rich!’”
Edwina snorted. "Cryptic. Love that for you."
Penelope leaned back, sighing. "Oh, but wait! today, I finally get another letter. It says, ‘Don’t worry, darling, I’ll land tomorrow, and we’ll be the headline of the newspaper!’”
Edwina stared at her in disbelief. "Well, I guess you’ll be famous, but maybe... not the way you want!"
Philippa, who had been listening to the whole exchange with a serious look, suddenly brightened.
“Wait Papa’s gonna be rich?! That’s it! You know what, Pen? If Papa’s really gonna get rich, I’m just gonna leave Mum and Pru and move in with you guys! I mean, honestly, I always wanted to live with you two anyway. You guys are way more fun and I never have to listen to Mum’s lectures about ‘responsibility’!”
Penelope blinked, unsure how to respond. “Philippa, we can barely make toast without something going wrong. Do you really want to live in a house where the most ‘responsible’ thing we do is... I don’t know, not burn the microwave down?”
Philippa suddenly froze, her eyes widening in horror. “Oh my god—what if Mother sees Papa’s name in the headlines? What if she has a panic attack? that Papa is in the news instead of her!”
Her voice rose with each word as she clutched Penelope’s arm. “What do we do? What do we do?!”
Edwina, trying to hold in her laughter at Philippa’s escalating panic, patted her shoulder. “Relax, Philippa , nothing’s going to happen
Philippa stopped mid-panic, blinking in confusion. “You think so?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Edwina lied
Philippa sighed with relief for a moment, but then her eyes widened again. “But what if Papa gets arrested for something ridiculous? Like... like being the first person to swim through Jell-O? Can you imagine?! I’d have to explain that to Mum!”
Edwina quickly stepped in, waving her hands like she was defusing a bomb. “Okay, okay, let’s just slow down here. No Jell-O swimming or press conferences... yet.”
Philippa paused, still a little jittery but visibly calming down. “Yeah... yeah, you’re right. We’ll save the Jell-O swimming for later. But... can we get a yacht with a pizza restaurant anyway?”
Penelope sighed, rubbing her temples. “One thing at a time, Philippa.”
Edwina, now more focused, crossed her arms and said, “Alright, let's get to the point. Your papa’s convinced he’s going to be the headline of tomorrow, and we need to stop that from happening. So, is there any big function tomorrow that could end up making him the headline?”
Penelope thought for a second and nodded. “Right, we need something big, something he could walk into, trip over, and and accidentally declare as a national treasure” Philippa, looking serious, said, "There’s a major political function happening today. If Papa shows up there, it’ll definitely make headlines."
Penelope shook her head, "No, Papa's not interested in politics."
Just then, Edwina's phone rang. She looked at the screen, sighed, and answered. "It's Kate," she muttered before quickly saying, “FOR THE LAST TIME KATE I’LL BE ON TIME FOR THE BRIDGTON FUNCTION “and hanging up.
Philippa suddenly froze, her eyes wide with realization. "Oh, yeah! The Bridgton function!" she exclaimed, clearly having remembered something important.
Penelope’s eyes shot open in alarm. "Wait, that’s tomorrow?" she asked, her voice tinged with panic.
Philippa, now in full-on scramble mode, flailed her arms dramatically. "How could I forget? We’re doing the catering! Mama’s been telling everyone we’re the best she won’t stop bragging about it!" she said
Edwina, who had clearly missed all the build-up, blinked in confusion. "What’s this Bridgton function you’re all obsessed with?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Penelope, barely holding it together, sighed. "You’re going to it," she said, trying not to sound too exasperated. "Don’t you remember?"
Edwina, her face turning a little pink, sheepishly replied, "Well, yes, but I don’t actually know what it’s about. Kate just asked me to help with something she’s planning something, I think."
Philippa, who was clearly far too excited to hold back, leaned forward, her face lighting up. "Oh, it’s the great Anthony Bridgton’s 30th birthday! He’s officially taking over the whole Bridgton company tomorrow. It’s a huge deal!"
Edwina perked up. "So, all eight siblings will be there?"
Penelope’s heart skipped a beat.
Philippa chuckled. "Well, if Papa shows up, you know he’ll definitely cause a scene. He hates the Bridgtons. He’d create a scandal just to stop their event!" she said, grinning, completely oblivious to how serious the situation was.
At that moment, Penelope and Philippa froze, their faces drained of color. The realization hit them both at once, and they screamed in unison, "Scandal! Headline!"
Edwina, who had been quietly listening, jumped in shock, her hands flying to her ears as she tried to block out the deafening noise. "What?! What’s going on?" she asked, utterly bewildered by the sudden chaos unfolding around her.
***
[Anthony's office] Hyacinth strutted into the room with the confidence of someone who definitely wasn’t late even though she was.
“You’re late,” Daphne announced, arms crossed, like the responsible eldest sister she prided herself on being.
Hyacinth rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I’ve been on time every day this week.”
Benedict, who had been lounging lazily on the couch, suddenly sat up straight and squinted at her. “Hy, look into my eyes.”
Hyacinth immediately looked anywhere but at him.
Benedict’s suspicion grew. “Why aren’t you making eye contact?”
“I don’t want to,” Hyacinth muttered.
Benedict gasped dramatically. “Hyacinth,why your eyes are red!” He pointed at her like he had just uncovered a massive scandal. “Hy, are you drunk?”
Hyacinth groaned. “I’m not drunk.” She sighed, rubbing her temples. “I got drunk yesterday. These are hangover symptoms, brother.”
Benedict’s jaw dropped. “You are too young to get drunk!”
Eloise snorted. “Look who’s talking.”
Benedict turned to her, offended. “Excuse me?”
Eloise smirked. “You, brother dear, were practically a legend when it came to sneaking alcohol into family gatherings.”
Francesca, who had been quietly sipping tea in the corner, finally spoke. “Didn’t you once pass out in a hedge at Aunt Agatha’s garden party?”
Hyacinth grinned. “Oh yes! And wasn’t there an incident at Georgy’s birthday where you—”
They all turned to Georgy, who remained completely engrossed in his phone, his face betraying no emotion. It was as if he had shut himself off from the conversation entirely. The siblings exchanged a quiet knowing glance
The siblings stayed silent, the atmosphere still heavy. Finally, Francesca broke the pause with a sharp question. "By the way, where’s Colin?"
Suddenly, Anthony walked into the room, his expression one of mild irritation. “He’ll come just in time for the party,” he said
He murmured to himself, his voice dripping with annoyance. 'Typical Colin. Always making a grand entrance, as if the world revolves around him.'"
Benedict, with a sarcastic grin, looked at Anthony and said, “Good morning to you, too, brother.”
Anthony shot him an irritated glance. “Oh, whatever,” he muttered, clearly not in the mood for any more teasing.
Anthony continued, "So, as I was saying, tomorrow marks—"
Daphne cut him off with a dramatic flair, “Oh, yes, we know, Anthony. The great Anthony Bridgerton, officially crowned CEO... or should I say, the King of Bridgerton—ruling over his tiny little kingdom, aka the company?”
Anthony nodded, clearly pleased with himself. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. tomorrow, I, Anthony Bridgerton, become the official head of the company so tomorrow Bridgerton party is important to me.”
He paused, giving himself a moment for dramatic effect. “All thanks to my exceptional hard work and unparalleled brilliance. It wasn’t easy, but someone had to do it, right?”
The siblings exchanged looks, silently questioning whether they were supposed to applaud or groan.
Anthony, still basking in his own praise, finally added, “And I don’t want any of you bringing drama to tomorrow's function. Got it?”
Eloise, with a mock-serious tone, shot back, “We don’t do drama.”
Anthony raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, really? Remember the last event you ‘accidentally’ turned into a protest about women’s rights?”
Eloise blinked, but Anthony wasn’t finished. “Because of our father runaway You turned Father’s Day into a feminist rally. And we’re still recovering from that speech about how ‘every day should be Mother’s Day, too!’”
The siblings stifled their laughs, trying to look innocent.
Eloise turned to Daphne, narrowing her eyes. “Why are you laughing? You’re not exactly innocent in this, either.”
Daphne blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
Eloise smirked. “Remember the time Anthony dragged you to that feminist event, thinking it was some sort of grand awakening for you?”
Daphne’s face turned a little red. “I went because you made me go...”
Eloise raised an eyebrow. “And all you did was say, and I quote, ‘My dream is to get married as early as possible and look after my husband and children.’”
Daphne groaned. “I was nervous! They were all so... passionate!”
Eloise continued, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Do you know how humiliating that was? You single-handedly turned an empowering feminist rally into a dating advice seminar.”
The siblings couldn’t hold back their chuckles, knowing exactly how awkward that event had been.
Hyacinth, laughing so hard she almost fell off the couch, managed to gasp out, “Oh my God, what Anthony said is spot on! We Bridgertons have the copyright for creating drama!”
The room erupted in laughter, but just as everyone was catching their breath, Anthony suddenly turned to Hyacinth, his expression serious. “Wait a second Hyacinth... why are your eyes so red?”
Hyacinth panicked for a moment, her eyes widening. “Oh! Well, when I woke up, I realized that my brother—”
She paused dramatically, then finished, “—became exactly what Daphne said…….”
Francesca muttered under her breath, “Officially crowned CEO…”
Hyacinth grinned. “Yes, officially crowned CEO. I got so emotional about it, I stated crying and nearly fainted from pride!”
Anthony, eyebrow raised, asked, “crying?”
Hyacinth sighed dramatically, “Yes, emotionally. I mean, it’s Anthony—CEO—finally!”
At that, Anthony paused, looking a bit flustered. For the first time, he looked genuinely touched, his voice softer than usual. “Well, you know... it’s been a long road, and—”
Hyacinth grinned, “Oh no, don’t start getting emotional on us now, Anthony. We’ll all be crying at the party!”
Anthony, trying to keep the situation under control, cleared his throat. “Anyway, no drama. Got it?”
Eloise immediately cut him off, “Okay, okay, we understand. No drama. meet at the party tomorrow!”
The room went silent for a moment as everyone processed that. Then, as if on cue, someone clapped, and the rest followed suit.
Georgy, who had been absent from the conversation the entire time, was the first to stand up and leave the room, not bothering to participate in any of the drama.
***
[Bridgton party Day...] Live Broadcast from Bridgton Channel
(The screen fades in to a glamorous scene. The camera pans over a dazzling hall filled with elegantly dressed guests, chandeliers glowing overhead, and a live orchestra playing a soft melody. The golden Bridgton Broadcasting logo gleams at the center of the stage. The voice of the reporter comes in, smooth and professional.)
📺 LIVE FROM BRIDGTON HALL 📺
Reporter: (Smiling at the camera, holding a sleek microphone with the Bridgton Channel logo.)
"Good evening, and welcome to a truly spectacular night here at Bridgton Hall! I’m standing at the heart of the most anticipated event of the year—Anthony Bridgton’s 30th birthday celebration, which also marks his official appointment as the CEO of Bridgton Broadcasting!"
(The camera zooms out, revealing the breathtaking venue. Glittering chandeliers cast a golden glow over the hall, while waiters in crisp white uniforms weave through the crowd, serving the finest champagne. The guests—prominent figures from the media industry, business moguls, and celebrities—are engaged in lively conversation, their laughter mingling with the soft hum of the grand piano.)
"And what a night it is! The hall has been transformed into a vision of elegance, with deep navy and gold décor symbolizing the power and prestige of the Bridgton legacy. A spectacular ice sculpture of the Bridgton Broadcasting logo stands proudly in the center, reflecting the brilliance of this empire’s future!"
(The camera moves toward a red-carpet entrance, where VIP guests are arriving in sleek black cars, photographers flashing their cameras.)
"This isn’t just a birthday party—it’s a statement. A statement that Bridgton Broadcasting is entering a new era, led by none other than Anthony Bridgton himself! The energy in this room is electric, as guests eagerly await his speech, a moment that will define the future of this media giant."
(The camera shifts back to the reporter, who adjusts her earpiece, glancing at the stage where Anthony is expected to appear.)
"Stay with us as we bring you exclusive coverage of this historic night. Will Anthony’s leadership bring new innovation? What changes lie ahead for Bridgton Broadcasting? We’ll find out soon! For now, let’s soak in the magic of this unforgettable evening. I’m Kate Sharma, and you’re watching Bridgton Channel—your front-row seat to history in the making!"
(The broadcast fades to a sweeping view of the grand hall, the camera catching glimpses of champagne glasses clinking and the anticipation in the air.)
***
[Inside the Waiting Room– Moments Before the Function starts]
The Bridgton Waiting Room was a chaotic mix of elegance and exhaustion. Seven of the Eight Bridgton siblings—except Colin—were present, each lost in their own world.
In one corner, Francesca and Daphne were busy adjusting their dresses like they were preparing for battle, exchanging whispers that sounded suspiciously like fashion critiques. Eloise, completely unbothered by the grand event, had her nose buried in a book, occasionally shaking her head at whatever nonsense the world was up to today.
Benedict, ever the conversationalist, was chatting away with Hyacinth, who was still recovering from what was, by all accounts, an epic hangover. She sat there, eyes half-closed, one shoe missing, and groaned every time Benedict laughed too loudly. Meanwhile, Gregory, the youngest and possibly the most disengaged, was glued to his phone in the corner, scrolling with the intensity of someone actively ignoring the people around him.
And then, in front of the grand mirror, stood the man of the hour—Anthony Bridgton.
Straightening his tuxedo, he took a deep breath, adjusted his tie, and flashed himself a dazzling grin.
"Hey there, handsome." He winked at his reflection. "You’re the best. You got this. It’s just a speech. A tiny, insignificant speech in front of some of the most powerful people in the country then you become the….." He paused. His own words were making him nervous.
He cleared his throat and tried again.
"Come on, Anthony. You’re charming. You’re brilliant. You’re—" he flexed slightly "—in excellent shape. Everyone loves you. You got this, man."
Just as he gave himself another approving nod, the door burst open, and in strutted Sinnea, his girlfriend—who was wearing a dress so expensive it looked like it charged people just for looking at it.
"Awww, is my little CEO hyping himself up in the mirror?" she cooed, leaning against the doorway with a smirk.
Anthony scowled. "I am mentally preparing."
Sinnea rolled her eyes. "You’re flirting with yourself, babe. There’s a difference."
She strutted over, eyeing him up and down like a shopper inspecting an overpriced handbag.
"You know, instead of talking to yourself like a lunatic, you could just hire someone to hype you up. Like a professional flatterer. Or me—except I charge extra for compliments." She grinned.
Anthony sighed. "Sinnea, this speech is important. I need to be taken seriously."
"Oh, sweetie." She patted his cheek. "You’re rich. No one cares what you say. They’re just waiting to see if you trip onstage."
Anthony groaned. "You’re terrible at pep talks."
Sinnea shrugged. "I prefer ‘brutally honest.’ Now, get out there, give your little speech, and remind everyone that you’re powerful, charming, and—" she tapped his chest "—engaged to a woman with expensive taste. You know, in case they forgot."
Suddenly, Daphne’s voice rang through the room. "Anthony! Come here for a second!"
Anthony let out a sigh, giving Sinnea one last look before heading toward Daphne.
Sinnea watched him go, then turned back to the mirror, flipping her hair and admiring herself. "Honestly, I should be the one giving the speech. I look amazing."

Then room was suddenly plunged into darkness.
A beat of silence.
Then—
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" Anthony’s panicked voice echoed through the darkness.
He whipped around blindly, arms outstretched like a man trying to fight off an invisible attacker. "If this is a power failure, FIX IT! If this is a ghost, I am NOT in the mood! If this is some kind of assassination attempt, just know that I WILL haunt you—"
Suddenly, the door swung open, flooding the room with a warm golden glow.
Standing in the doorway, carrying a giant cake with flickering candles, was Colin Bridgton.
He grinned smugly, stepping into the room like he had just won an award for Best Dramatic Entrance.
And then—
"SURPRISE!!!"
All six Bridgton siblings shouted in perfect unison[except Gregory].
Anthony froze.
He blinked at them. Blinked at the cake. Blinked back at them.
"What…?" His brain visibly struggled to reboot.
Daphne beamed. "Happy Birthday, Anthony!"
Benedict smirked. "And congratulations, Mr. CEO."
Francesca crossed her arms. "You should feel honored. We planned this weeks ago."
Hyacinth, still looking half-dead from last night, gave a lazy thumbs-up. "Yeah, yeah. Congrats. You’re old now."
Colin held the cake out toward Anthony. "Go on, make a wish. At your age, I'd suggest wishing for a good back doctor."
Anthony just stared.
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
And then, in a voice way too suspiciously shaky for his liking, he muttered, "You… you absolute assholes."
His throat tightened.
"You really did all this for me?"
The siblings glanced at each other.

Before they could say anything else, Sinnea, with an exaggerated sigh, leaned in and kissed him passionately on the lips. Right there. In front of all his siblings and said “Happy Birthday baby”
The exchanging disgusted looks.
To break the awkward tension, Daphne stepped in with an innocent question. "So, Colin, when did you get here?"
Colin, looking like he’d just stepped off a red carpet, replied, "Just an hour ago. It was a wild trip, you know? Plane delays, missed connections, some weirdly philosophical conversations with a dog on the plane, and a random stop at a very sketchy diner. You know, the usual."
Everyone stared at him, trying to process his words. Benedict raised an eyebrow. "You seriously had a conversation with a dog?"
Colin waved it off. "It was a metaphor, okay?"
Eloise, who had been completely uninterested the entire time, raised her head yawned loudly. "Honestly, Colin, if I have to hear about one more of your ridiculous trips, I'm going to lose my will to live."
Hyacinth groaned, looking like she was still recovering from whatever wild hangover she'd been nursing. "Can we get back to the cake or something? I can't deal with this travel nonsense."
Eloise, tapped her watch and cut in. "Time’s up, Anthony. Everyone's here. It's time for the stage show."
Anthony cluelessly asked. "Stage show? What stage show?"
Eloise grinned devilishly. "You know, the one where we all stop hiding in this waiting room, and we get to witness the magic of your CEO self on stage. You’ve been preparing for this moment your whole life, Anthony."
Daphne excitingly said . "Come on, let’s get to the main stage it’s party time"
Benedict, with a cheeky grin, added, "Yep,meeting dismissed’”
And with that, the Bridgton crew moved to the PARTY.
***
The Bridgton estate was glowing with golden lights, buzzing with high society chatter, and filled with the scent of expensive champagne and pastries. It was an event designed for elegance and sophistication.
Naturally, that meant it was the worst possible place for Archie Featherton to be.
Penelope, Philippa, and Edwina walked hand in hand through the grand entrance, except one of them was dressed like a rogue waitress on the run.
"I don’t think this is a good idea," Penelope muttered, tugging at the collar of her waitress uniform.
"It is a good idea!" Philippa and Edwina said in unison.
Penelope scowled. "There's no need for me—you two find him and bring him back home”
Philippa flicked her wrist dramatically. "You know that’s not possible. The only two living things that can handle Papa are you and Mama, and we both know Mama is no longer an option."
Edwina grinned. "Yup! And we’re your helping hands, so don’t worry."
"You know I’m not allowed at any Bridgton event!" Penelope whisper-hissed as they maneuvered past guests.
"Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen," Edwina assured her. Then, with a pitying look, she added, "Your issue with Eloise isn’t solved yet? It’s been years. We’re adults now."

Penelope’s smile faltered for a moment. It wasn’t bitter, just… sad. "Some things don’t fix themselves, Edwina," she said softly before looking away.
"That’s why you’re in disguise," Philippa added. "Those Bridgton b—uh, socialites—will never figure it out. Just don’t go near Mama and Prudence." At that moment, Philippa suddenly gasped. "if Prudence finds out we’re sneaking you in, she’ll tell Mother for sure! She thinks she’s Mother’s favorite, but it’s me."
"Hey, Philippa!" Prudence called out from the back, her voice cutting through the chatter.
Edwina and Philippa exchanged a quick, urgent glance before both murmuring at the same time, "Run, Penelope!"
Penelope walked away without any hesitation.
Prudence, clearly intrigued, leaned forward. "Who is she?" she asked
Philippa opened her mouth, ready to answer, but Edwina quickly cut her off, her voice firm. "Waitress."
Prudence, not missing a beat, gave Edwina a casual nod. "Hi," she said, as if everything was perfectly normal.
***
Penelope moved forward, adjusting her outfit and taking a deep breath. “Don’t worry, Pen. No one will recognize you in this attire,” she whispered to herself confidently.
“Wait… oh my god. I only changed my dress. My face is still the same! Who am I kidding? Oh my god, I’m an idiot—no, no, no! Positive thoughts, Penelope! The people here are rich. They wouldn’t even glance at a waitress. Calm down. Breathe. No one will recognize you.”
Just as she started convincing herself, a loud, all-too-familiar voice shattered her fragile confidence.
“Hey, Featherton bitch!”
Penelope froze. Her soul nearly left her body. She turned her head in slow motion to see Fife swaggering toward her, one glass in one hand and an entire bottle in the other, looking like a man on a mission.
“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath. “What does he want now?”
Fife stopped in front of her, squinting as if his eyes were malfunctioning. “Is today Halloween? What are you wearing? Is it… a panda?”
Penelope closed her eyes for a second, summoning patience from the heavens. Then, with all the deadpan energy she could muster, she replied, “It is a waitress uniform, Fife.”
“Oh, it’s a waitress uniform!” he cackled, as if Penelope had just revealed the greatest joke of the century.
Before Penelope could murder him with her eyes, Gregory Bridgton appeared out of nowhere, looking mildly concerned. “Hey, fife, what are you doing here?”
Fife, who clearly had a PhD in stating the obvious, lifted his bottle and grinned. “I’m drinking… and talking to this.” He lazily pointed at Penelope.
Penelope and Gregory’s eyes met for half a second before Gregory quickly looked away, suddenly fascinated by literally anything else in the room.
Meanwhile, Fife, in his drunken wisdom, attempted to pour himself another drink. But fate—or maybe just his questionable motor skills—intervened. The bottle tilted at an unfortunate angle, and in the most not-so-accidental accident of the night, the liquid splashed right onto Penelope’s uniform.
She gasped, staring at the mess on her dress. Fife, not even pretending to be sorry, gave her a lazy shrug. “Oh, sorry, Featherton.”
Penelope clenched her jaw, muttering something highly unholy under her breath. This absolute menace. She slowly lifted her gaze from the stained dress to Fife, took a deep breath, and forced out a tight-lipped, “It’s okay.”
Then, without another word, she turned on her heels and stormed off.
Fife waved after her, grinning. “Bye-bye, Featherton!”
Gregory, watching the whole mess unfold, finally sighed”Fife, leave her alone.”
Fife, completely unbothered, just winked at him.
Still fuming, Penelope stomped away, her mind consumed with thoughts … when BAM! She collided straight into someone else.
***
Colin was perfectly content in his little drinking corner at the Bridgton party, swirling his whiskey like a man without a care in the world. His hair was effortlessly tousled, his smirk was effortlessly cocky, and his entire personality was effortlessly infuriating.
Then, disaster struck.
A high-pitched “Colin!” sliced through the music, and before he could even turn, a woman appeared in front of him like a summoned demon.
She was smiling too wide. Her eyes were too intense. This was not good.
“You!” she gasped, clutching his arm. “Where have you been?”
Colin blinked. “Uh… here?”
“You disappeared after that night!” she said dramatically, drawing the attention of way too many people. “You never replied to my texts! Did you block me? Did your phone break? Did you fall into a coma? Or—” she gasped—“did you lose your memory?!”
Colin, who had just taken a sip of his drink, nearly choked. “What? No! I—”He quickly recovered, flashing his signature smirk. “How can I forget you, darling?”
The girl’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. She crossed her arms and leaned in. “If you haven’t forgotten me, then say my name.”
Colin’s soul left his body.
Her name.
Her name?!
He had nothing. Absolute blank. He could remember nothing except the fact that this woman definitely knew him better than he knew her.
She crossed her arms. Waiting. Smirking. Knowing.
The people around them were eager spectators now. Someone in the back whispered, “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
Colin cleared his throat and went with Plan A: stalling.
“Your name?” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, come on, you think I’d forget something so important?”
“Yes.”
Colin’s smirk twitched. “Pfft. No. That’s ridiculous.”
“Then say it.”
He panicked. “It starts with an S.”
“No.”
“Uh… T?”
“Wrong again.”
Colin’s survival instincts kicked in. “Babe.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Try again.”
“Angel?”
“No.”
“Darling?”
Her expression darkened. Colin had precisely three seconds to live.
Somewhere in the corner, a beautiful, mysterious woman was watching, sipping her drink with an entertained smirk.
Colin, meanwhile, was mentally preparing for impact. Any second now, a slap was coming, and it was probably going to echo and then he get another slap from Anthony for ruining his function.
But just as the girl raised an eyebrow, the mysterious woman strolled over and casually called out, “Hey, Betty! How are you?”
Colin’s brain did a backflip. Betty. Her name was Betty.
Betty turned toward the mystery woman with an excited squeal. They hugged, giggling like long-lost sisters.
Colin, meanwhile, was stuck staring at the mysterious woman like an idiot. Who was she? How had she just saved his life? And, more importantly, how was someone allowed to look that good?
Her hair? Perfect.
Her dress? Flawless.
Her entire existence? Unfair.
Colin felt like he had been transported into a different dimension, one where he was no longer the charming Casanova, but instead some bumbling fool experiencing beauty for the first time.
He was so lost in admiring her like a lovesick idiot that he didn’t even realize Betty was talking to him again.
“Colin, did you hear me?”
Colin snapped back to reality so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. “Yes! Yes! Absolutely!”
Betty gave him a weird look. “Okay… I’m just gonna go meet my friends real quick. Stay here, I’ll be back soon, alright?”
Colin nodded confidently. “Of course, Betty.”
Betty walked away, leaving Colin standing there, still buzzing from his miraculous escape. He turned toward the mysterious woman, ready to flash his most charming smile—
But she was already leaving.
Colin’s instincts kicked in. Not on my watch. He darted after her, cutting through the crowd like a man chasing the last slice of pizza at a party.
“Hey!” he called, finally stopping her with a smooth grin. “Thank you, beautiful. By the way, what’s your name?”
The mysterious woman raised an eyebrow, sipping her drink way too casually for someone who had just saved a man from social destruction. “Oh, so you do ask for names? I thought that wasn’t really your thing.”
Colin smirked. “Come on, don’t be like that. I was just—”
“—Too busy being Bridgton’s very own Casanova?” she finished for him.
Colin gasped, placing a hand on his heart. “Slander! I prefer the term… ‘romantic adventurer.’”
She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Right. And yet, you couldn’t even remember the name of a girl you slept with.”
Colin shrugged. “In my defense, there are a lot of names in this world.”
She gave him a look that screamed judgment.
He grinned, leaning in slightly. “Besides… the girls I’ve hooked up with? Nowhere near your level.”
She snorted. “Oh, that’s original. Let me guess—next you’re going to tell me I’m ‘not like other girls’?”
Colin held up his hands. “I would never say something so cliché.” Then, after a beat, he added, “Even if it’s true.”
The woman laughed, shaking her head again. She took a step back, tilting her head at him with amusement. “Such a flirt.”
Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.
Colin watched her go, something stirring in his chest.
He had met countless women, but none like her.
A slow smirk spread across his face.
And then—without hesitation—he followed her.
As Colin trailed behind the mysterious woman, she suddenly spun around with an exasperated sigh. “Hey! Don’t follow me.”
Colin grinned, completely unfazed. “Say your name, and I’ll stop.”
Before she could respond, bam!—she walked straight into a waitress
The waitress gasped. The mysterious woman flinched as the cold liquid seeped into her dress. Colin, who had definitely seen this kind of chaos before, just stood there with his drink, casually observing the disaster unfold.
“Are you okay?” he asked, more amused than concerned to the mysterious woman.
The waitress looked horrified. “I—I’m so sorry!”
And then, as if fate itself wanted to throw in some extra drama, the two women locked eyes.
A moment of recognition.
Then, at the exact same time, they both said:
“Marina?”
“Pen?”
Colin perked up instantly.
Then, ever so slowly, he turned toward the mysterious woman, his smirk growing.
“So your name is Marina…” He took a step closer, his voice dripping with charm. “Nice name.”
Marina, however, did not care. At all. She completely ignored him and grabbed Penelope’s arm instead.
“Pen, what are you doing here? And why are you wearing a waitress dress?”
Before Penelope could answer, a very loud, very confident voice called from across the room.
“Baby, come here!”
Marina sighed and turned to Penelope. “Let’s talk later.” Then, she shifted her gaze to Colin, her expression unreadable. “My boyfriend is calling.”
With that, she turned and walked away, heading toward George without a second glance.
Colin watched her go, still smirking to himself. Then, under his breath, he muttered, “Thank God she’s not married.”
As Marina disappeared into the crowd, Colin finally turned his attention to Penelope who still standing there.
She gave him a small, shy smile. “Hi, Colin.”

Chapter Text

“Hi, Colin.”

He hesitated for a second before responding with a simple, “Hi.” His expression remained unreadable—half a smile, but nothing more.

Trying to ease the tension, Penelope shifted on her feet and asked, “How was your trip? Are you doing well?”

Colin’s answers were short. Distant. Like he wasn’t particularly interested in having this conversation. “It was fine.” “I’m fine.” No effort, no warmth.

The air between them felt heavier by the second.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Colin finally asked, “What are you doing here?”

Penelope straightened up, trying to sound casual. “Mama has the catering service for this event, so I’m helping her.”

Colin let out a small breath, then looked her in the eye. “Don’t go in front of Eloise.” His voice was lower now, more serious. “You know what’s gonna happen.”

Penelope didn’t say anything. She just stood there, her expression unreadable.

Colin didn’t wait for a response. He simply turned and walked away.

***

Penelope stood still for a moment, staring at the spot where Colin had been just seconds ago. The weight of his distant tone lingered in the air, pressing down on her chest. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe, to push away the sudden heaviness threatening to settle in.

A soft voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Are you okay?"

Penelope turned to see Edwina watching her with gentle concern, her brows slightly furrowed.

"Yes, I’m fine," Penelope replied, curving her lips into a half-smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She knew Edwina wouldn’t push—not yet, at least—but the knowing look in her friend’s eyes told her she wasn’t convinced.

Before Edwina could say anything else, Penelope quickly shifted the subject.

"Did you see Papa?"

Before Edwina could respond, a sharp voice sliced through the air like a knife through an overbaked pastry.

"Penelope Featherington!"

Both Penelope and Edwina flinched as if they had been caught red-handed in a crime they didn’t even know they committed. Penelope slowly turned around, already dreading what she was about to face.

There stood Portia Featherington, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, lips pursed in a way that suggested she was preparing to unleash a storm.

"What," she began, dragging out the word with dramatic horror, "are you doing here? And why—why in the name of all things decent—are you wearing my catering uniform?" Her eyes scanned Penelope from head to toe, landing on the apron like it was the most offensive thing she had ever seen. "Are you trying to ruin my business? Is this some kind of rebellion? Because let me tell you, Penelope, you do not have the face of a waitress. You have the face of—of—" she waved a hand in frustration, "someone who should be far, far away from my paying customers!"

Penelope opened her mouth, but Portia was only getting started.

"And this—" she gestured vaguely in Edwina’s direction, acknowledging her presence for the first time, "—you’ve dragged a lady into this nonsense too? What’s next? A whole team of criminals? A secret society of terrible waitresses?"

"Portia, I was just—"

"Oh, don’t even try to justify this, young lady! I know exactly what’s happening here. You’ve come to spy on my bakery. Trying to see how a real businesswoman runs things. Let me guess—going to steal my secret recipes, are you?" Portia sniffed, tossing her curls dramatically. "Well, joke’s on you! I don’t have any! I just make it up as I go!"

Edwina blinked. "That explains a lot."

Portia gasped. "Rude!"

She shook her head before her sharp gaze locked back onto Penelope. "And where, may I ask, is Mister Archie Featherington?" She put a dramatic emphasis on the name, as if it belonged to a fugitive. "Because, unless my delicate senses deceive me, my soon-to-be ex-husband—" she sneered the words, "—is somewhere skulking about this function, avoiding me! Which, of course, he always does. But this time, Penelope, this time—" she raised a finger, "—he will not escape! Do you know why?"

Penelope sighed. "Because you’re going to cause a scene?"

"Exactly!" Portia beamed before remembering she was supposed to be angry. "That man refuses to sign the divorce papers! Do you know how inconvenient that is for me? I have plans, Penelope! Big ones! And I do not have time to be legally attached to a man who spends his time scheming ridiculous ways to make money and—" she lowered her voice dramatically, "—wearing questionable hats in public!"

Edwina leaned toward Penelope and whispered, "I kind of want to see the hats."

Portia threw her hands up. "And worse, the last time I confronted him about the divorce, do you know what he said? Do you know what he said?"

Penelope sighed. "I’m afraid to ask."

Portia squared her shoulders and did her best impression of Archie’s voice. "‘Portia, darling, marriage is just a word. But our souls? Our souls are forever linked in the universe.’"

Edwina burst out laughing, quickly covering her mouth.

Portia rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw the back of her skull. "Can you believe it? He thinks he’s some kind of romantic philosopher! I married a man who lost all his money gambling, has the business sense of a potato, and now wants to haunt my soul for eternity?! Absolutely not!"

Penelope pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mother—"

"No! No ‘Mother’! This is a serious matter, Penelope! Where is he? I know you know! Where. Is. That. Man?!"

Before Penelope could respond, Araminta Cowper swooped in, her dramatic presence filling the room. "Portia, darling, how charming your catering is!" she said with an exaggerated gasp, inspecting the food. "Rustic, very rustic… as if it were made by someone who’s never seen a kitchen!"

Cressida snickered behind her mother. "Maybe the Featheringtons should stick to eating rather than cooking."

Penelope and Edwina exchanged desperate looks. Araminta kept going, making snide remarks about Portia's financial struggles and gambling debts, until Penelope couldn’t take it anymore.

"it’s time to escape " Edwina whispered to Penelope, grabbing her arm.

The two made a quick exit, with Edwina bursting out laughing. "That was too much!"

Just then, an announcement echoed through the event hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for Anthony Bridgerton’s speech!"

The crowd hushed as Anthony stepped up to the microphone, his tall figure casting a shadow in front of the podium. He adjusted the mic, cleared his throat, and glanced at his siblings and girlfriend before launching into his speech with the air of someone who’d practiced it far too many times.

"Good evening, everyone," he began, his voice steady but with an undertone of nervous energy. "I stand here today as a man who, at the age of 19, lost everything—my mother, my father, and, most notably, my ability to make a decent cup of tea. I mean, honestly, who taught me to brew that stuff?" He paused for a moment, glancing at his siblings, who shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"I had to take over the Bridgerton Company at an age when most people are just figuring out how to fold a fitted sheet something I still don’t know how to do, by the way. But despite the hardships, the late nights, the mountain of paperwork that seemed to multiply on its own, I made it through. And here I am today finally, officially about to become the CEO."

The audience clapped politely, but there was an odd tension in the air. Anthony, in his typical Bridgerton fashion, smiled and continued. "Now, let me take a moment to thank my amazing siblings. You’ve all been so supportive. Especially Benedict, who... didn’t try to sell the company to a rival just to make a quick buck. Really, I appreciate that. And to my girlfriend, Sinnea, thank you for—"

But just as he was about to continue, he noticed something strange. The audience, once calm, was now looking at each other with wide eyes. A few gasps echoed through the room. Anthony’s gaze flicked to his siblings, who were all frantically scanning the papers in their hands. Panic was visibly spreading across their faces.

Before he could say anything, Benedict appeared from behind, walking briskly toward the stage. He handed Anthony a piece of paper. Anthony’s heart sank as he read the top line aloud.

"My dear gentlest reader, I am back."

His voice faltered. "Whistledown is back..." he muttered under his breath, his face going pale. The room suddenly felt smaller, the energy in the air thickening with the realization that the notorious gossip columnist had returned to shake things up once again.

Dear gentlest readers,

It has been a long time, hasn’t it? A rather extended silence from yours truly, but fear not—where there’s a whisper, there’s a way. And today, my dear readers, I return with a question for you all. A question about a man who has, for better or worse, captured the attention of the ton: Anthony Bridgerton.

The man who lost his mother at a young age, watched his father leave, and, at just 19 years old, took the helm of the Bridgerton Company. Quite a feat, wouldn’t you say? He became a CEO, a title that some spend decades to achieve. But is he truly the right man for the job? Let’s talk about it.

Two years ago, an incident occurred that shook us all. Anthony, alongside his girlfriend Sinnea, found themselves in a most unfortunate situation. A car accident that led to five homeless people being struck, one of whom tragically lost his life. The police quickly arrested the driver, but here’s the twist, dear readers—the key witness, Will Mondrich, who was there at the scene, claimed he saw the driver get out of the front seat and move to the back.[sit in the back seat].that means Anthony and sinnea is in the front seat but never once did he see who was actually driving. How curious.

Both Anthony and Sinnea were questioned, and while the police were eager to find answers, neither of them would confirm who was behind the wheel. Steadfast, both stuck to their story, and, due to the lack of hard evidence, the case was closed. They were deemed innocent.

But here’s the million-dollar question, dear readers: Where is Will Mondrich now? And where is his family? Gone. Disappeared into thin air after Anthony and Sinnea were cleared. No one knows where they are. Not even I, your humble author. How mysterious. Was their sudden vanishing due to something other than mere coincidence? Was it Anthony’s wealth and influence that silenced them? Did Will Mondrich truly know something the rest of us didn’t? And if so, why is no one asking more questions?

The real mystery now, dear readers, is this: Should such a man—a man with such a shadowy past—really be the one at the head of the Bridgerton empire? Should we place the fate of a vast company, and all its dependents, in the hands of someone with so many unanswered questions hanging over his head?

Is it right to appoint a man whose past is clouded in uncertainty as the CEO of Bridgerton Company? Is this truly the right decision for the future? For the company’s future? For the future of all those who rely on it?

One can only wonder.

Good luck, Anthony Bridgerton.

The world will be watching.

Anthony’s face turned pale as he gripped the paper, his breath unsteady. “No… no…” he muttered, his voice barely audible but caught by the microphone, sending a chill through the crowd.

Benedict acted fast, grabbing his arm. “Anthony, let’s go,” he urged, but Anthony stood frozen, the name Will Mondrich echoing in his mind like a ghost from the past.

The siblings sat in stunned silence, eyes darting between each other in panic.

But Sinnea—she was the most shaken. Her face drained of color, hands trembling as she clutched the paper. Her lips moved rapidly, muttering curses, eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal searching for an escape.

The whispers in the crowd grew louder, the grand ballroom suddenly suffocating. Then, with one firm pull, Benedict yanked Anthony away from the microphone.

The Bridgertons rose together, stiff and unprepared. Lady Whistledown had struck—and they were losing control.

***

A hushed murmur slithered through the grand ballroom, like a slow-moving storm.

"Oh my God… Whistledown is back."
"Did you read that? It’s accusing Anthony Bridgerton of—"
"Where is Will Mondrich? Is he dead?"
"Did Anthony kill him? Oh, this is dark—"

The whispers grew into a sinister hum, spreading like wildfire. Eyes darted toward the Bridgertons, suspicion thick in the air. Some guests clutched their pearls, others exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions shifting from shock to morbid curiosity.

Then—chaos.

One by one, high-profile guests began slipping out, their departures discreet but unmistakably deliberate.

Camera flashes erupted from every corner. Reporters, like vultures sensing blood, pushed past security, their voices rising over the panicked murmurs.

"Mr. Bridgerton! Do you deny these allegations?"
"Is Will Mondrich dead?!"
"Did you cover up a murder, Anthony?!"

Anthony, still gripping the damning paper, felt his stomach lurch. The ballroom, grand and glittering only moments ago, now felt suffocating, the air thick with judgment.

Benedict grabbed Anthony’s arm again, voice tight with urgency. “We need to leave. Now.”

But there was no escape.

Because in every dark corner of the room, in every whispered conversation, in every pair of widened, hungry eyes—
Whistledown’s ghost had come back to haunt them all.

***

Out of the corner of the ballroom, hidden behind a towering floral arrangement, Penelope stood frozen, her hands gripping the edges of the crisp Whistledown paper. Her eyes scanned the words again, her breath catching in her throat.

The accusations. The implications. The chaos unraveling before her.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as the weight of it settled in. The gasps, the whispers, the fear rippling through the crowd—this was the power of Whistledown.

But this time… it wasn’t her.

She swallowed hard, her lips parting as a whisper escaped, barely audible over the rising storm of voices.

"I’m not the one who wrote this."

Edwina, standing just beside her, turned sharply. "What did you just say?"

Penelope snapped out of her daze. "Nothing," she muttered quickly, folding the paper as if that could make it all disappear.

Edwina didn’t look convinced but didn’t press further. Instead, she scanned the growing chaos in the ballroom—guests murmuring, reporters whispering into their microphones, socialites sneaking glances at the Bridgertons with a mix of curiosity and unease.

"Let’s go," Edwina urged. "It’s not good to stay here any longer."

Penelope nodded, and together they began weaving through the crowd, trying to remain unnoticed. But just as they reached the edge of the ballroom, something—no, someone—stopped her.

A firm grip closed around her wrist.

Before she could react, she was being pulled away—swiftly, deliberately. The world around her blurred as she stumbled after the force dragging her through a side corridor, away from the noise, away from the crowd.

"Edwina—!" she gasped, but the words died in her throat as she was yanked into a dimly lit room.

The door slammed shut.

Her breath came fast and uneven. The room was dark, shadows stretching across the walls, isolating her in the silence.

Penelope’s heart pounded as she slowly turned, her pulse deafening in her ears.

And then—she saw him.

Colin Bridgerton.

Standing before her, his expression unreadable. His eyes dark, intense.

She swallowed hard.

"Colin?"

***

Colin let out a cold, humorless laugh, shaking his head as he stepped closer. His face was flushed red with fury, his eyes burning with betrayal.

"You did it, didn’t you?" His voice was low, dangerous. "You wrote Whistledown again."

"Colin, I swear—" Penelope tried, but he cut her off before she could finish.

"That’s why you’re here," he spat. "To humiliate us. To humiliate my family. Again." His voice wavered with emotion, but it was clear he wasn’t just angry—he was disgusted. "Five years ago, I stopped Eloise from exposing you. I was the one who gave you a warning. And what did you do, Penelope? You threw it in my face."

Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head desperately. "Colin, please, I swear to God, I didn’t—"

"Swear to God?" he sneered, stepping even closer until their faces were mere inches apart. "Don’t make me laugh. You’ve been lying your entire life. Acting so shy, so innocent, when deep down, you’re nothing but a snake. You latched onto us like a parasite, pretending to be our friend, but all you ever wanted was something to use—attention, protection, secrets. Anything you could twist into your little stories."

"That’s not true!" Penelope sobbed, but Colin wasn’t done.

"You’ve been writing about my family for years. What, were we just a source of entertainment for you? Did you get some twisted satisfaction every time you dragged our names through the mud?!" His voice was laced with venom now. "Or was it all part of your pathetic, desperate attempt to make yourself matter?"

Penelope clutched her arms around herself, her whole body shaking.

Colin let out a bitter scoff. "Look at you now. Nothing more than a glorified waitress, scurrying around parties you’ll never actually belong to. And you know what? That’s exactly where you deserve to be." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a cruel whisper. "Because you never belonged with us. You never belonged with me."

A choked sob escaped her lips.

Colin straightened, taking a step back, his breathing still heavy, his anger still burning hot.

And then—

"What is happening here?"

Eloise stood there, staring between them.

Chapter Text

Eloise’s eyes locked onto Penelope, her expression unreadable, but her grip on the crumpled paper in her hand spoke volumes.

The stark black ink of Whistledown’s latest column bled through the creases, evidence that she had read every damning word.

Her voice was steady, but laced with something dangerously close to anger. "What are you doing here?"

Penelope opened her mouth, but before she could utter a single syllable, Eloise’s other hand shot up, silencing her.Like Eloise already knew why she was here.

The whistledown paper in her grip crinkled further as she turned away, back toward Colin. "Everyone is waiting for you. Come."

Colin let out a slow, bitter exhale. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to say more but he didn’t. Instead, he shook his head in silent agreement and stepped forward, his anger now buried beneath something colder. He didn't spare Penelope another glance.

Eloise, however, did. One last look, sharp and knowing, before she turned to follow her brother.

Just as they were about to disappear, a voice rang out.

"Hey, Pen! Everybody—"

The words were cut off as Marina barreled straight into Eloise and Colin, nearly sending the crumpled Whistledown paper flying from Eloise’s grasp.

The moment stretched long Marina blinking in confusion, looking between Colin, Eloise, and Penelope, trying to piece together the heavy silence between them. The tension in the air was suffocating.

Marina’s gaze flickered to Colin. Their eyes met. A second passed. Then another.

Colin looked away first.

Without a word, he and Eloise walked past her, disappearing into the crowd as if nothing had happened.

Marina exhaled slowly, then turned back to Penelope. This time, her voice was quieter. Softer.

"Are you okay?"

Penelope smiled.

Without another word, Marina grabbed Penelope’s arm and dragged her toward the back of the hall, weaving through the shifting clusters of guests. The main entrance was a battlefield—reporters swarmed like vultures, shoving microphones and cameras in the faces of anyone unfortunate enough to be near. The questions came rapid-fire:

"Did you see the Whistledown letter?"
"Is Anthony Bridgerton going to jail?"
"Was the cake gluten-free?"

(Okay, maybe not that last one.)

Marina pulled her along, dodging a particularly aggressive cameraman, and finally, they made it to the far side of the hall, where a small, familiar group had gathered.

Portia, Philippa, Prudence, Edwina, George, and a few other recognizable faces stood there, looking like a mix of exhausted survivors and nosy spectators who lived for gossip.

Marina exhaled in relief. "Here, Penelope," she announced, dropping her arm like she had just delivered a particularly troublesome Amazon package.

Edwina’s eyes lit up. "Where did you go?"

Before Penelope could answer, Prudence—who had clearly just noticed her existence—let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her chest like she had been personally betrayed.

"Oh. My. God." She paused, letting the suspense build. Then, in the most exaggerated, scandalized voice she could muster, she demanded, "Penelope, what are you doing here?!"

Penelope opened her mouth, but Prudence was already on to the next part of her monologue.

Her eyes zeroed in on Penelope’s outfit. With a loud gasp—as if she had just witnessed a crime against fashion itself—she pointed a trembling finger at the black dress and apron.

"This is our waitress uniform!" she screeched, then spun toward Portia in utter betrayal.

"Mom!" she cried. "She and Papa copied our waitress uniform!"

Portia did not react. At all. Not a single blink of surprise.

Prudence frowned. Her head slowly swiveled toward Philippa.

Philippa also had no reaction.

Prudence narrowed her eyes. "Wait a second." She gasped again, grabbing Philippa’s arm. "You knew she and Papa were here at the party, didn’t you?!"

Still no reaction.

Prudence let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand on her forehead like a Shakespearean heroine discovering her tragic fate.

"So I’m the last one to find out?" she deadpanned. "Of course. Classic."

Then—exactly ten seconds later—

Like some kind of bizarre synchronized orchestra, everyone suddenly spoke at the same time:

Penelope: "Papa is here?"
Philippa: "Papa is here?"
Edwina: "Oh, finally."
Portia: "Archie Featherington is here?!"

At this, George and Marina turned to each other, their expressions a perfect mixture of confusion and alarm.

They had absolutely no idea what was happening.

Prudence, still startled by the sudden attention, blinked rapidly before clearing her throat.

"Oh, just before Anthony's speech… I saw him," she said, pointing vaguely toward the drinks counter.

Portia frowned. "Saw who?"

Prudence raised an eyebrow. "Who do you think? Papa! Archibald Featherington!"

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Portia tilted her head, processing.

"You… saw Archie here?"

Prudence nodded.

Portia pursed her lips, slowly folding her arms. "And you’re just telling me now?"

Prudence shrugged. "I thought you knew."

Portia let out a sharp breath. "Why on earth would I—" She cut herself off, closing her eyes briefly like she was mentally preparing for battle.

Philippa suddenly let out a mock gasp, covering her mouth like she had just discovered a royal scandal.

"Oh-ho! Someone’s missing Papa!" she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

Edwina laughed, nudging Prudence. "Your mama is blushing."

Portia’s head snapped toward them so fast it was a miracle she didn’t get whiplash. "Excuse me?"

Prudence, now truly horrified, staggered backward like she had just witnessed a crime.

"Blushing?! Mama, you’re patching up with Papa?! And I—the eldest daughter—am the last one to know?!" She clutched her chest dramatically. "Why am I always the last to find out everything?!"

Portia rolled her eyes so hard it looked like she was reconsidering her entire life.

"Oh, shut up!" she snapped. "I want his signature on the divorce papers. That’s it! I am not—I repeat, NOT—patching up with that man!"

Penelope, sensing where this was going, sighed heavily.

"You guys go," she said, turning away. "I’ll come with Papa."

Portia whipped her head around.

"You can go wherever you want—just don’t come to my house!"

Penelope stopped mid-step and turned back. "Mama, you kicked us out two years ago."

Portia raised a hand dismissively. "Not you, Penelope Featherington. I kicked your father out. You can still come back. The choice is yours."

Penelope blinked, let out a slow exhale, then simply turned and walked away.

"You guys go, I’ll come with Papa!" she called before disappearing into the crowd.

As she left, Marina and George exchanged a look.

***

Penelope searched everywhere in the party building, scanning each room, corridor, and crowded hall. But Archie was nowhere to be found.

Frustrated, she turned a corner, passing by a half-open door—when she suddenly hear a voice .

Sinnea.

She had been about to step inside and ask Sinnea if she had seen Archie but out of sudden Sinnea’s voice drifted through the door, sharp with tension.

"If everybody finds out the truth… then it’s the end for me."

Penelope’s breath hitched. The truth? What truth?

She had been about to step inside and ask Sinnea if she had seen Archie, but now—now she couldn’t move. She had to hear the rest.

Slowly, she edged closer to the door, hidden in the shadows.

Sinnea was on the phone.

"How can I not panic?" she hissed. "Anthony—" A pause. Then she scoffed. "Oh, he left before the reporters got more suspicious."

Penelope felt a chill run down her spine.

Suspicious of what?

Sinnea exhaled sharply, voice lowering. "Yes, I’m afraid. So what should we do?"

A beat of silence.

Then: "Anthony is trying to prove he’s innocent, whether it’s the truth or not."

silence

Sinnea’s voice turned bitter. "I think he betrayed me. Me and anthony hid him together "

Penelope’s heart started pounding. Hid who?

"Yes, I think so too," Sinnea murmured. "Anthony will definitely bring William and his family to the public."

William? Will Mondrich?!

Sinnea let out a shaky breath. "Oh, what should I do? If the truth comes out… it’s over. My career, everything—gone."

There was a long silence. Then Sinnea’s voice hardened.

"No. I have to act first."

Another pause.

"Okay, okay. Now. Without Anthony knowing."

Penelope leaned in further.

"Where?"

A muffled response from the phone. Then Sinnea’s voice came back, urgent.

"The Bridgerton Lodge?"

Penelope sucked in a breath.

Sinnea’s voice turned sharp. "What will they find out?"

Silence.

Then she nodded to herself. "Okay, okay. We need to do an immediate press conference."

Before Penelope could process what she had just heard, a sudden creak echoed through the room.

A door shifting.

Sinnea gasped, her head snapping toward the sound.

"I’ll call you back," she muttered hurriedly, then grabbed her bag and strode toward the exit.

Penelope pressed herself further into the shadows, holding her breath.

As Sinnea stepped out, she paused for a brief moment, glancing around suspiciously—before disappearing down the hallway.

After Sinnea hurried out of the room, Penelope stayed hidden for a few more seconds, her heart pounding.

Then, she exhaled sharply and muttered to herself, "So it was Sinnea… She caused the accident. And now she’s plotting against Anthony."

She clenched her fists. "I have to tell him. Now."

Without wasting another second, she turned and rushed out.

***

The tension in the Bridgton House was thick enough to cut with a knife. Anthony sat on the edge of the sofa, head in his hands, while his siblings—Benedict, Colin, Eloise, Francesca, and Daphne—stood around him, all waiting for an explanation.

"Anthony, just take a deep breath," Benedict urged, his tone steady but firm.

"Don’t tell me to breathe, Benedict!" Anthony snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Do you not understand? My entire career, my reputation—hell, my life—is being ripped apart, and I can’t do anything about it!"

"Shouting won’t fix it," Eloise said, arms crossed. "We need to think, not throw a tantrum."

"A tantrum?" Anthony scoffed, turning to her. "My name is being dragged through the mud, and the press is outside waiting to bury me alive. This isn’t a tantrum, Eloise—it’s a bloody disaster!"

"Then let’s fix it," Colin interjected, his voice sharp.

"Anthony, you need to talk," Daphne finally said, crossing her arms. "You’re clearly panicking, and if you don’t start making sense, we’re going to start assuming the worst."

Anthony let out a frustrated sigh. "The worst would be an understatement."

Colin scoffed. "Well, that’s reassuring."

"Benedict knows," Anthony muttered, glancing at his brother.

Immediately, all eyes turned to Benedict, who shifted uncomfortably.

"Knows what?" Eloise pressed, narrowing her eyes.

Benedict exhaled. "Anthony should say it."

Anthony groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Fine. You want the truth? It wasn’t the driver who crashed the car. It was Sinnea. She was driving. We were both high."

Silence. A heavy, stunned silence.

"Sinnea?" Francesca repeated, like she couldn’t quite believe it.

"You were both on drugs?" Daphne’s voice was calm, but the sharpness in her tone made Anthony wince.

"Yes," he admitted. "And we knew that if it ever came out, it would ruin everything her career, my future, all of it."

Colin let out a low whistle. "Well, Anthony, I have to say this whole plan of yours is going exceptionally well."

Eloise threw her hands up. "So, what? You just let some random driver take the blame?"

"It wasn’t like that," Anthony snapped. "He agreed. We made sure he was taken care of."

Benedict’s voice was steady. "And William? You and Sinnea hid him and his family."

Daphne blinked. "Wait, what?"

Anthony groaned again. "Yes! We had no choice! If William spoke, the case would have been reopened. So we put him somewhere safe."

Colin let out a curse, running a hand down his face. "Bloody hell, Anthony."

Francesca rubbed her forehead. "So let me get this straight—Sinnea caused the accident, you both covered it up, and now Whistledown is dragging it all back into the spotlight?"

Anthony nodded stiffly.

Eloise sighed. "You realize that if Whistledown keeps digging, she’ll find out about Sinnea?"

Suddenly, her eyes met Colin’s across the room. It was brief—just a flicker of understanding—but it was enough.

They both knew.

Knew exactly who was behind Whistledown’s latest return.

Eloise quickly looked away, arms crossed, while Colin shifted uncomfortably. Neither of them spoke, but the silent acknowledgment hung heavy between them.

Anthony’s jaw tightened. "That’s why we have to protect her. At any cost."

Colin raised an eyebrow. "Protect her? Anthony, are you actually hearing yourself?"

"Yes!" Anthony shot back. "Sinnea and I did this together. I’m not letting her go down for this alone."

Daphne studied him for a long moment. "And what happens when someone does find out? You think Whistledown won’t expose the truth the second she gets it?"

Benedict exhaled. "The only way to fix this is to bring William back. If he comes forward and says that Anthony wasn’t the one driving, the case closes. Anthony walks free. And Sinnea stays protected."

Colin frowned. "But Whistledown—”

Eloise cut in. "Whistledown doesn’t have everything yet. If we act fast, we can control the story."

Anthony nodded, standing up. "Then we bring William back."

The Bridgerton siblings exchanged looks. They knew this wasn’t going to be easy. But their minds were made up.

Then Benedict clapped his hands together. "Well, if we’re risking our sanity tomorrow, we might as well lose it a little tonight. Let’s drink like crazy to forget today’s problems and motivate ourselves for our mission tomorrow."

There was a beat of silence, then, one by one, they nodded in agreement.

"Brilliant idea," Colin muttered, rubbing his temple.

***

Penelope stood outside the Bridgton house, her heart pounding.

She had no other choice.

She had no way to call them—no numbers, no contacts, not anymore. It had been years since she had any reason to reach out. But tonight, she needed to speak to them in person. What she had overheard from Sinnea was too important to risk through a message.

And yet, the gates remained firmly shut.

The press swarmed outside, their cameras flashing like fireflies in the dark, waiting for a Bridgton to fall. The watchman refused to let her in, not when the family was already under siege. If she asked through the main doors, she would be turned away—just like before.

But there was another way in.

A way she wasn't supposed to remember.

The back entrance, tucked away behind the east wing, was a passage she and Eloise had once used in secret—slipping in and out of the house without watchful eyes. It had been years since she last set foot there, but the familiarity of it made her heart ache. The door gave way with a soft creak, and suddenly, she was inside.

The house was as grand as she remembered—ornate chandeliers, polished floors, the scent of expensive wood and distant lavender. And yet, she felt out of place, as if she were trespassing in a life that no longer welcomed her.

A voice pulled her back.

"Madam, how can I help you?"

A staff member stood near the hall, offering a polite but uncertain smile, as though trying to place her.

"I need to speak to a Bridgton. It’s urgent."

The staff hesitated. "Miss Eloise is available, I can call her at once—"

"No." Too quick. Too desperate. Penelope swallowed. "Not Eloise. Not Colin." She couldn’t face them yet. Not before she knew how to explain. "Is Benedict here?"

The staff member frowned slightly, confused by her unease, but nodded. "I will call him, madam."

She turned. Took one step.

And stopped.

A presence. A shift in the air.

"That won’t be necessary."

The words were calm. Too calm.

Penelope’s stomach twisted.

Colin stood in the doorway.

His gaze wasn’t angry. It wasn’t kind either. Just... unreadable. A flicker of something crossed his face as he glanced at the staff, then back at her.

"No need to call Benedict," he said smoothly. "I’ll manage."

Penelope barely had time to process what was happening.

Colin dismissed the staff without another glance, his sharp blue eyes locking onto her. He wasn’t just staring he was watching.

A slow realization crept up her spine. He was drunk.

His usually composed demeanor was slightly off-balance, his posture loose, his gaze heavy. The air between them shifted as he stepped closer. Penelope swallowed, the strong scent of alcohol filling the space between them.

"Tell me," he said, his voice low, almost amused. "What was so urgent?"

Penelope hesitated. Was it even worth telling him in this state? Would he even remember by morning?

But she had no other choice.

"It’s about Sinnea," she forced out.

Colin scoffed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh? What about Sinnea?"

Penelope gathered every ounce of courage she had. "She’s trying to put all the blame on Anthony. She’s going to tell the media he was the one driving the car—which isn’t true. She’s bringing back Will Mondrich—"

She didn’t get to finish.

Colin's expression shifted instantly, his eyes darkening. "And how," he interrupted, stepping even closer, "do you know Anthony wasn’t the one driving?"

"I overheard—"

Before she could finish, his hand was suddenly on her mouth.

Penelope's breath hitched.

Colin was too close now. The back of her dress brushed against the cold wall as he advanced, his frame looming over hers. Their faces were inches apart, his finger the only thing separating their lips. The air between them was thick charged but for all the wrong reasons.

"So I was right," he murmured, his breath fanning against her skin. "You know all about this mystery, don’t you? And you’re writing about it in Whistledown."

Penelope's stomach twisted. She hated this this version of Colin that saw her as nothing but a schemer, a game player.

"For the last time," she said, her voice unsteady but firm, "I’m not Whistledown."

But Colin wasn’t listening.

"Why are you doing this?" he continued, his voice low. "Trying to impress me pen?"

The name slipped out so naturally, she almost didn’t notice.

Pen.

He hadn’t called her that in five years.

Her heart clenched, but Colin didn’t stop. His fingers brushed her lips, lingering just for a second.

"If you wanted my attention, " he murmured, "this isn’t the way to do it."

She blinked, confused. "What—?"

His grip on her tightened.

"You think I’m impressed by your words? By the way you challenge me through a sheet of paper?" His tone was mocking now, filled with something darker, heavier.

Penelope had no idea where this conversation was heading, but she knew one thing she did not like it.

Then Colin leaned in, his lips grazing her ear.

"I know about your little crush on me," he whispered.

Penelope’s entire body stiffened.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes again, a dangerous smirk curling on his lips.

"If you want to sleep with me," he continued, voice slow, deliberate, "just say it. Why take the complicated route?"

A sharp wave of shock shot through her.

"What?" she breathed, unable to believe what she just heard.

But Colin wasn’t done.

"We had some good chemistry  as friends , didn’t we?" he mused, his gaze flickering over her face. "Before all the Whistledown drama? I think we still do."

Penelope’s shock turned to anger.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she snapped. "Colin, you’re making me uncomfortable. Move away."

He didn’t listen.

Instead, he leaned in again. "Let’s make a deal," he murmured. "I sleep with you, and in return, you use Whistledown to clean up this mess."

Penelope froze.

Then without a second thought she slapped him.

The sound echoed through the room.

Colin stumbled back, his expression flickering between shock and something else something that almost looked like regret.

"You think you can disrespect me like that?" she hissed, her chest rising and falling. "You think I wrote Whistledown to impress you?" Her voice cracked, not with weakness, but with the sheer force of her anger. "God, Colin, do you really think the world revolves around you?"

His jaw clenched. He was sober now.

"You were right about one thing," she continued, her voice bitter. "I did have a crush on you. But not anymore. Not after the way you treated me when you found out I was Whistledown. And you know what? I don’t regret a single word I wrote. I am proud of it."

Colin didn’t speak.

Penelope took a shaky breath and stepped past him.

Before she could leave, she turned back one last time.

"And one more thing," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. "The reason I came here tonight was because I overheard Sinnea. A few hours ago, she admitted she was the one driving the car. And she’s afraid Anthony will betray her, so she’s bringing Will Mondrich back to the public—to force him to say Anthony was the driver.And I also heard "

She saw it.

The flicker of doubt in Colin’s eyes.

"I don’t believe you," he muttered.

Penelope let out a humorless laugh.

"Fine," she said. "I’ve done my part. Believe me or don’t—I don’t care anymore."

She turned to go but hesitated for one final second.

"Next time you touch me without my permission," she said, her voice like steel, "I will kill you."

And with that, she walked away, leaving Colin standing there—watching her vanish into the night.

His face was unreadable.

But something in his eyes had changed.

***

[NEXT MORNING AT BRIDGERTON HOUSE]

The Bridgerton siblings were sprawled across the room, asleep in various states of exhaustion. Anthony was slumped in an armchair, one leg hanging off the side. Benedict was face-down on the carpet, using a cushion as an inadequate pillow. Eloise and Daphne had somehow ended up back-to-back on the couch, while the others lay scattered across the floor, snoring softly. It was a scene of utter chaos—a battlefield of tired warriors after a night of too many drinks and too many problems.

Except for Colin, Gregory, Francesca, and Hyacinth,not present in the room .

And then, like a lightning bolt in a peaceful storm, Francesca burst into the room.

"WAKE UP!" she yelled, her voice high-pitched with urgency.

Benedict groaned and rolled over, smacking Anthony’s leg in the process. "Five more minutes," he mumbled.

"NO, NOW!" Francesca insisted, rushing from one sibling to the next, shaking them awake with an alarming mix of panic and determination.

Daphne groaned. "Unless the house is on fire, let me sleep."

"Better than fire!" Francesca declared, shoving her phone into Anthony’s barely conscious hands. "We have a huge problem."

That got their attention.

Anthony, still half-asleep, frowned at the phone. "If this is another one of those ridiculous prank videos, Francesca, I swear—"

"Just play it," she snapped.

Everyone gathered around, their grogginess quickly vanishing as Anthony pressed play. The room fell silent, the air thick with anticipation.

And then—

The video began with an extreme close-up of Sienna’s face, her lips trembling, her eyes red—whether from actual tears or an expertly applied smudging effect was unclear. A melancholic violin tune played in the background, the kind typically heard in the saddest moments of a soap opera.

She inhaled deeply, then let out a shaky sigh. "Hi, everyone. It’s me… Sienna." She paused, looking away dramatically before returning her gaze to the camera. "I never thought I’d have to make this video. I never wanted to. But… here I am."

A single tear rolled down her cheek.

She took a deep breath, pressing a hand against her chest as if trying to hold in the weight of her suffering. "Anthony Bridgerton…" she whispered his name like it physically hurt to say it. "The man I once trusted. The man I… I loved."

She inhaled shakily. "But behind closed doors, he wasn’t the charming man you all see in public. He was controlling. Manipulative. Dangerous."

"There was a night…" she swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as if holding back tears. "A night I will never forget."

She looked directly into the camera. "We were at a party together. One of those glamorous Bridgerton events, where everyone was watching. But no one saw the real story. No one saw what happened after.Anthony had too much to drink. He was in one of his moods—those moods where his temper flares over the smallest things. That night, I said something… something so simple, so small." Sienna let out a shaky breath. "I told him I wanted to leave early. That’s all."

Her lips trembled. "And do you know what he did?He grabbed my wrist. So tightly I thought my bones would break." She held up her hand as if reliving the moment. "And he pulled me aside, away from everyone, into a dark corner.He leaned in and whispered, 'You don’t get to decide when we leave. You belong to me tonight.’”

"And when I tried to pull away?" Her voice cracked. "He wouldn’t let go. I told him he was hurting me, but he just smiled. Like he enjoyed it."

"I had bruises the next morning." Sienna let out a bitter laugh. "Bruises I had to cover up with makeup because I knew no one would believe me."

The weight in her voice made it impossible to dismiss her words entirely.

"And that was just one night. One of many." She shook her head. "I was too scared to speak up before. Too scared to tell the truth. But not anymore."

She took a deep breath, her expression shifting from vulnerable to determined.

"And now, Anthony is planning to blame me for what was said in Whistledown. He’s trying to twist the story, trying to say I was the one who drove the car." She let out a humorless laugh. "Which is clearly a lie. He was the one behind the wheel that night. But now, to save his own face, he’s putting the blame on me."

Her voice wavered, but her eyes remained steady. "He has money. He has fame. And he’s using all his power to turn the narrative in his favor, to make me the villain—just like he always does." She wiped away a tear. "But I won’t let him. I can’t let him."

She stared directly into the camera, her tone final and unwavering.

"I have to do this on my own. And I promise you—I will bring the truth of that incident to the public soon."

With that, the video ended.

The phone screen went black.

A thick silence settled over the Bridgertons.

Anthony scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "She’s lying."

***

Colin sat in his room alone , his fingers brushing the cheek where Penelope had slapped him. The sting had faded, but her words hadn’t. Sienna’s video played in his mind, each lie stacking up like a carefully crafted performance. He had doubted Penelope, mocked her, dismissed her.

But now, reality sank in.

Colin exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "What Penelope said is true."

Chapter Text

Colin sat in his dimly lit room, his fingers absently brushing the cheek where Penelope had slapped him. The sting had faded, but her words hadn't. They echoed in his mind, mixing with the sound of Sinnea’s voice from the video, every calculated lie twisting deeper into his gut.

He had mocked Penelope, dismissed her, and believed Sinnea instead. And now? Reality sank in like a cold wave.

Colin exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. His hands clenched into fists as the weight of it all pressed down on him. "What Penelope said is true."

Before he could move, his door swung open.

Eloise stood there, her face pale but her eyes sharp with urgency. “Did you see the video?”

Colin gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, I saw it.” His voice was tight, simmering with anger. “And I saw through it.”

Eloise stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. "Anthony just told me something. William is missing."

Colin’s stomach dropped. “What?”

Eloise’s expression darkened. "Anthony thinks Sinnea took him. And she’s planning a press conference today.”

Colin shot up from his seat so fast his chair scraped against the floor. “What the fuck?!” His mind raced this was bigger than just a scandal now.

Colin stormed past Eloise, his only thought to find Anthony, to tell him what Penelope had said about Sinnea yesterday. But just as he reached the door, Eloise grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Wait," she said, her grip firm. Her voice was quieter now, but there was something heavy in it. Something worse.

Colin turned, his pulse hammering. "Eloise, we don’t have time for-"

"There’s another problem," she cut in. Her eyes met his, and he knew this wasn’t just about Sinnea anymore.

***

Penelope was barely awake when her phone started ringing. She groaned, eyes still shut, blindly searching for her phone. She finally grabbed it and croaked,

“Hello?” she mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep.

“PENELOPE, TURN ON THE TV RIGHT NOW!”

She pulled the phone away from her ear. “Philippa, do you know what time it is?”

“NOW. TV. NEWS. DO IT.”

With a dramatic sigh, Penelope fumbled for the remote, switched on the TV, and there it was Bridgerton News Channel, LIVE.

The screen immediately cut to a blurry, grainy image of a man his face smudged beyond recognition, looking half-suspicious, half-lost. His posture was oddly familiar.

Kate Sharma, standing in front of a newsroom graphic that read BREAKING NEWS: WHISTLEDOWN PAPERS DISTRIBUTOR IDENTIFIED, spoke in her usual polished, professional tone:

“The police have thoroughly examined all CCTV footage from last night, determined to find who first distributed Whistledown’s scandalous letters. After extensive review, they have identified a suspect, who is now in custody.”

A dramatic pause.

“The suspect’s identity has not been officially revealed yet,” Kate continued, her voice hinting at mystery. “But here is the security footage of the individual in question.”

The blurry image of the mystery suspect filled the screen again.

Penelope leaned forward, squinting at the TV. The picture was unclear, but something about the man’s stance, the way he tilted his head as if he was about to pitch a ridiculous get-rich-quick scheme, was painfully familiar.

She knew that stance.

She knew that wild hair.

She knew that level of chaotic energy.

It was her father.

It was Archie Featherington.

Penelope’s stomach did a full gymnastics routine. Her lips parted, her voice barely above a whisper

“Oh. My. God.”

Penelope was still staring at the TV, her brain struggling to catch up with reality.

Philippa, who was still on the line, sounded way too excited about this.

“I KNEW IT! IT WAS OUR PAPA, RIGHT?”

Penelope didn’t answer. She was still processing the situation.

“Penelope? Hello? Can you hear me?”

Penelope snapped back to life. “Oh yes! Yes, I heard you. I need to go to the police station. Does Mama know?”

“Not yet!” Philippa replied quickly. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. Plus, this news is only being reported on Bridgerton News Channel. Every other news Channel is busy talking about Sienna live video.”

Penelope rubbed her forehead. “Sienna’s live video? What happened?”

Philippa gasped. “YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT? Oh, Pen, you HAVE to watch it! Sienna went full-on tragic heroine. She cried, she sniffled, and she said Anthony was an abuser and she blame him  for whatever incident mentioned in Whistledown. Now every news channel is calling him ‘Bridgerton’s Dark Secret.’”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “oh…”

Penelope sighed. “Alright, not our problem. I need to find out if Papa is actually in custody. You handle Mama.”

“Got it! If you need backup, call me.”

 ***

Colin stared at Eloise, wide-eyed. “Are you kidding me?”

Eloise folded her arms. “No, Colin. One of the officers just confirmed it. The suspect in custody is Archie Featherington.”

Colin ran a hand through his hair. “Unbelievable.”

Eloise sighed. “And now Anthony has to make sure the police don’t release Archie’s name to the public. The last thing he needs is another scandal when he’s already drowning in the Sienna mess.”

They both fell silent for a moment.

Then, in a quieter, almost hesitant tone, Colin asked, “Do you believe Penelope started writing Whistledown again?”

Eloise’s head snapped toward him. “Colin, what are you even saying?” She threw her hands up. “Her father is in custody for handing out Whistledown papers at OUR function. Could this be any more obvious?”

Colin looked away, conflicted.

Eloise turned to leave but suddenly paused, glancing back. “Oh, and don’t tell Anthony that Penelope is Whistledown. He’s got enough to deal with.”

Colin nodded slowly, watching as she walked away.

But his mind was spinning.

If I tell Anthony what Penelope said about Sienna, he won’t believe me  not now, not with Archie’s arrest.

But yesterday, she tried to tell me more about Sienna’s plan.

And I shut her up.

Colin exhaled sharply, his decision made.

First, I need to see her.

***

Penelope, accompanied by her friend Gen and a lawyer, entered the dimly lit police station, her heart pounding in anticipation. The scent of stale coffee and paperwork filled the air as officers moved about, their conversations a low hum in the background. The lawyer exchanged a few words with the officer on duty before they were led through a narrow hallway, the cold tiles echoing under their footsteps. 

Inside the holding area, Archie sat behind the bars, looking disheveled yet oddly amused by his predicament. His eyes brightened when he spotted Penelope, a lopsided grin appearing on his face. The officer unlocked the door to the visitation room, and Penelope stepped inside, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. Gen remained outside, watching through the glass as the lawyer took his place beside her. 

The room was small, with a single flickering light casting uneven shadows on the walls. The air was thick with unspoken words as Penelope took a seat across from Archie, exhaling slowly before finally meeting his gaze.

Archie looked up, his brows knitting in curiosity as he asked, "Oh, my baby doll, what are you doing here?"

Penelope crossed her arms, her gaze steady as she replied, "Papa, I’m the one who’s supposed to ask the question."

Archie shook his head, exhaling in frustration. "I also don’t know,  One thing I know I was at that Bridgton function, and the next thing, I’m here in the police station. And guess what? They’re asking me about those devils oh, sorry, the Bridgertons! If they want to know about them, they should ask them! Why me? Am I some kind of living answer sheet for their questions?"

Penelope sighed, rubbing her temples as she muttered, "You have no idea what is happening, do you?"

Penelope sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Papa, people think you’re the one supplying or worse, writing the Whistledown scandal sheet that caused massive damage at yesterday’s Bridgton function."

She continued without noticing Archie’s reaction. "Your photo was on the news today, you know that? What if Mama sees it? You know exactly what she’ll do—"

She suddenly stopped, finally looking at Archie.

Archie blinked as he slowly processed the information. Then, his eyes widened in exaggerated disbelief. "Wait… they think I’m the one writing the Whild… no, no the great Whistledown?!"He paused, then suddenly grinned, puffing his chest out. "Oh, so they think I’m capable of writing Whistledown, huh?" He nodded to himself, clearly impressed by the idea. 

Penelope groaned. "Why are you saying it like that? You’re capable of doing anything!" 

Before she could continue, Archie cut her off, wagging a finger. "Hold on, hold on! My photo was shown on the news? That’s good!"

Penelope let out a tired sigh. "It’s a CCTV footage photo, Papa." 

Archie frowned for a second, then leaned forward eagerly. "Hmm… but do I look good in it?"

Penelope pinched the bridge of her nose."Okay, back to the topic. Did you write Whistledown?"

Archie gasped, looking genuinely offended. "Hell no! If I had that kind of information, I’d be showing off in front of everyone! Why would I write it down? You know I’m more of a talking person than a writing one!

Penelope crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. "Okay, but why did you even go to that party in the first place? And what about the letter you sent me the one about making headlines and getting rich?"She questioned, her tone filled with suspicion.

Archie sighed, throwing his hands up. "Oh, my sweetie, I went there to create a headline, but the headline I wanted and the headline I ended up causing two completely different things! Do you understand what I’m saying?"

Penelope stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

Archie noticed Penelope’s blank stare and sighed. Realizing she didn’t understand a word, he straightened up and began explaining dramatically.

"Alright, listen carefully, my sweetie. I had something huge something that could change the entire Bridgton world! That’s why I went to the party to reveal it!"

Penelope’s curiosity grew.

“So, I pretended to be a waitress at that party…" He paused, nodding proudly. "Oh! And the waitress uniform? That was from your mother’s catering! I stole it…I figured, when the cameras focused on me, and I unveiled my big headline-making thing, I’d also be giving free publicity to your mother’s business! Rather than ours"

He placed a hand on his chest, grinning. "See? So thoughtful of me! Thinking about your mama, thinking about our family " He struck a dramatic pose, waiting for applause.

Penelope just stared at him, unimpressed.

Archie cleared his throat. "Okay, okay… back to the topic."

Archie took a deep breath, preparing for his grand retelling. "So, as I was saying, I pretended to be a waitress at that party. My plan was simple make a dramatic entry onto the stage right in the middle of bloody—"

Penelope shot him a warning glare. 

Archie quickly corrected himself. "—I mean, That fellow Anthony’s speech. Okay?"

Penelope sighed and nodded.

Archie nodded back. "Right. So, I was all set, walking straight toward the stage, when suddenly this tiny, adorable six-year-old girl tugs at my sleeve. And you know how kids are! She looked up at me with those big, pleading eyes the same way  you three used to beg me for candy when you were little and in the cutest voice ever, she said, 'Uncle, can you give me a tissue?'" 

Archie dramatically imitated the little girl’s voice, complete with an innocent pout. 

"Now, naturally, I smiled, patted her head, and gave the most responsible adult answer “Oh, sweetheart, just ask any waitress!' 

He paused, blinked, then dramatically reenacted his moment of realization. "And then it hit me. I was the waitress."

Penelope groaned, rubbing her temples. 

Archie continued, completely unfazed. "So, I quickly corrected myself 'Wait right here, kiddo! I'll get you a tissue!' and I dashed off to the food counter “

He grinned, acting out his moment of discovery. "And that’s when I saw it. A huge bundle of neatly stacked white paper on the floor. Jackpot! I thought, 'Ah, perfect! A whole bunch of tissues!' So, I grabbed one, handed it to the little girl, and wait a minute there was  writing on it." 

Archie widened his eyes for dramatic effect. "I looked closer... and lo and behold, it was a *Whistledown* letter! And oh, did I love what was written in there!"

He grinned mischievously. "So, naturally, I did the responsible thing I picked up the entire bundle and handed them out to everyone at the party!" 

He spread his arms proudly, waiting for applause. 

Penelope let out a deep breath, processing everything. "So that really happened? You had no idea who placed those papers?"

Archie shrugged. "Nope."

Penelope nodded. "Papa, you told all of this to the police, right?"

Archie beamed. "Yep!"

She exhaled in relief. "Then there’s nothing to worry about."

Archie nodded confidently. "Yep, I know!"

Penelope stood up. "I’ll talk to Gen about this and see if we can get you released as soon as possible."

Archie nodded, then tilted his head and softened. "By the way… how are you? It’s been weeks since I last saw my baby doll."

Before Penelope could answer, a police officer stepped in. "Time’s up."

She glanced at her father, giving him a small smile. "See you soon."

Archie nodded and formed a heart symbol with his hands.

Penelope shook her head with a chuckle and walked out, smiling.

***

Penelope stepped out of the police station, inhaling the cool night air. The tension in her shoulders hadn’t eased. Her father was in custody because someone had framed him as  Whistledown.

She walked toward her scooty, lost in thought. Who is really behind this? The idea of someone using her name, her creation, without her permission made her fists clench. I built Whistledown. And now, some stranger is running around pretending to be me?

She reached her scooty and ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. Who would do this?

A moment of silence.

Then, behind her, a voice spoke.

“I knew you would be here.”

Penelope startled so badly that her helmet slipped from her hands, hit the ground with a dull thud, and rolled a few feet away.

She turned around, heart racing, only to find Colin Bridgerton, standing there like he had just solved some great mystery. His expression was unreadable, but the slight smirk at the corner of his lips made her feel like she had just walked into a conversation he had already planned.

Standing there, looking way too casual for someone who just gave her a near heart attack, was none other than Colin Bridgerton.

Penelope sighed, rubbing her temples. As if her day wasn’t already ruined, now Colin Bridgerton had magically appeared to make it worse.

She crossed her arms and, in the most sarcastic tone she could muster, greeted him. “Oh wow, hey you.”

Colin gave her a fake smile, the kind that was more irritating than polite. “Oh, I’m here to see you.”

Penelope let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh, how nice! You wanted to humiliate me first thing in the morning? How thoughtful!”

Before he could even open his mouth, she steamrolled right through his response.

“Oh, wait! Let me guess you’re about to say, ‘Lady Whistledown has transformed into Lord Whistledown, and my papa is leading the revolution!’”

Colin lifted a brow, clearly entertained, but Penelope wasn’t done.

“Listen to me, Bridgerton.” She jabbed a finger at his chest. “My papa did NOT write yesterday’s Whistledown. I don’t know if you trust me or not, but I swear on everything edible don’t you DARE try anything against him. He’s not Whistledown, okay? He’s more of a talking person than a writing one.”

Colin smirked. “Oh, so that means he’s the complete opposite of you?”

Penelope’s glare could have set fire to a small village.

Colin took a deep breath. He needed information about Sinnea, and keeping Penelope calm was the only way to get it.

So, with his most non-annoying voice, he sighed and said, “I’m sorry.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You? Apologizing? Should I be concerned?"

Colin just smiled. This was going to be harder than he thought.

Colin opened his mouth, then immediately shut it. “No, it’s not that…” he stammered, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Penelope tilted her head, watching him with growing suspicion. Colin Bridgerton, the man who never ran out of words, was now tripping over them? Something was off.

Her eyes narrowed. “You know, we haven’t talked to each other face-to-face in five years until yesterday.” She folded her arms, counting on her fingers. “And since then, I’ve seen multiple versions of you. First, the ‘I don’t mind you’ version, like you were some enlightened monk. Then, the ‘threatening’ version, right after you read Whistledown. Then, the ‘drunken disaster’ version who, by the way, tried to misbehave with me.” She shot him a pointed look before continuing. “And now, this… peaceful, calm, fake version.”

Colin flinched at the last word.

“Fake?” he scoffed, his jaw tightening.

Penelope smirked. Oh, she had him now.

Colin exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to say this, but there was no way around it. If he danced around the topic any longer, she’d tear him apart word by word.

“I need your help, okay?” Colin finally blurted out.

Penelope’s eyes narrowed. “What help?”

Colin hesitated for a second before clearing his throat. “It’s about Sinnea… Did you see the video she posted on Instagram?”

Penelope scoffed. “Yeah, I saw it.”

Colin was silent for a moment, staring at the ground like it had all the answers. Finally, he sighed. “Sorry… I didn’t believe you.”

Penelope blinked, momentarily stunned.

She quickly recovered and gave a small shrug. “Oh, it’s okay.”

Colin stared at her, waiting for the usual sarcasm, a dramatic monologue, or at the very least some kind of smug remark. But instead, she just... softened. No gloating, no rubbing it in his face.

It threw him off completely.

Still caught in mild disbelief, Colin ran a hand through his hair and muttered, “If I had just told Anthony what you told me last night, he would’ve done something immediately to stop her before she pulled this stunt.”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “Hey, don’t blame yourself. Whatever Sinnea said on camera is recorded. If she’s lying, it’ll come back to bite her.”

Colin exhaled, nodding. But there was still something nagging at him.

“You were going to tell me something more about Sinnea yesterday. What was it?”

Penelope hesitated for just a second, then told him everything she had overheard from Sinnea’s phone conversation the suspicious whispers, the cryptic phrases, the undeniable sense that Sinnea was planning something big.

Colin listened intently, absorbing every detail. But when Penelope finished, he frowned, his mind catching onto something.

“The Bridgerton Lodge?” he repeated, his tone questioning.

Why would Sinnea mention that place?

Something wasn’t right.

Colin frowned. "What does any of this have to do with the Bridgerton Lodge?"

Penelope shrugged. "I don’t know. I told you exactly what I heard."

Colin didn’t reply. He just stared at her.

A long, calculating stare.

Penelope shifted uncomfortably. “What?”

Colin knew this Penelope. Well, maybe not the exact version standing in front of him, but he knew the Penelope from five years ago. And deep down, he was convinced there wasn’t that much of a difference.

Which meant one thing she already had a theory.

“You want to say something to me,” he said, tilting his head.

Penelope’s expression immediately changed. She looked exactly like Monica from Friends when she was dying to spill a secret.

"I think you have to go and search there," she finally blurted out. "There’s something at the lodge that could solve this whole mystery."

Colin narrowed his eyes at her. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

“Okay, I’ll go check it out,” he agreed, turning to leave. “See you later.”

“Stop.”

Colin paused, puzzled, and looked back at her. “What?”

Penelope crossed her arms. “You’re going there alone?”

Colin raised an eyebrow. “Yep.”

Penelope let out a sarcastic laugh. "Wow. And here I thought you were a full-of-yourself person."

Colin frowned. "Excuse me?"

Penelope sighed dramatically. “You have no idea about the Bridgerton Lodge and the people around there, do you?”

Colin pursed his lips, feeling like this question was unnecessary and possibly insulting. “…Yep.”

Penelope groaned. “Oh my God, Colin. The Bridgerton Lodge is under your family’s control, and you still have no idea about it?!”

Colin scratched the back of his neck. “I mean… I know it exists?”

Penelope threw her hands up. “Unbelievable! I literally saw an interview recently about you talking about the Bridgerton Lodge.”

Colin smirked. “And?”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “Of course, you memorized it and said—”

Then, with an exaggerated calmness, she continued, “Colin, you know you’re popular. If you go there alone, people who live there will recognize you instantly, and it’ll be impossible to snoop around. You need to take someone unpopular with you. Or, you know, call one of your mates live there instead.”

Colin narrowed his eyes at her, as if carefully considering the options. Then, after a long, deliberate pause, he said, “Then you come with me.”

Penelope blinked. “What? I’m not allowed to go there.”

“Why?”

She crossed her arms. “Because I don’t live there. Bridgerton Lodge is for people who work under the Bridgertons. I’m not an employee.”

Colin smirked. “So what now? Should I offer you a job?”

Penelope scoffed. “Colin, I can’t go there. That place is crawling with my childhood nightmares Cho, Cressida, and even that fucking Fife is there. I refuse to step into that horror movie.”

Colin’s smirk softened into something more reassuring. “So what? I’ll be there with you. If anything happens, I’ll save you just like I used to.”

They locked eyes, a silent moment stretching between them, charged with unspoken memories. Then, before Penelope could say anything, Colin cut in with a knowing grin.

“And besides, I know you’re curious about what’s going to happen. You’d rather be in the mystery than waiting to hear the ending.”

Penelope inhaled deeply, exhaled with exaggerated defeat, and admitted, “That was true.”

Colin grinned triumphantly.

Penelope rolled her eyes again but muttered, “Fine. I’ll come with you.”

***

The Bridgton Broadcast Center was filled with quiet tension. Staff members moved briskly, adjusting the lights and testing equipment, their hushed conversations adding to the charged atmosphere. At the center of it all sat Anthony Bridgerton, his fingers drumming restlessly against the table.

Kate, seated across from him, glanced through her notes with the composed air of someone who wasn’t about to question a man whose entire world was unraveling. Benedict stood beside Anthony, his attempt at reassurance looking more like a casual hostage situation as he squeezed his brother’s shoulder.

“Anthony, you need to breathe,” Benedict said. “Unless your plan is to pass out mid-interview. Which, honestly, might earn you some sympathy points.”

Anthony exhaled sharply. “I’m fine.”

Benedict tilted his head. “Your face says ‘fine,’ but your posture says ‘I am reconsidering all my life choices.’”

Anthony glared at him. “Would you like to do the interview instead?”

“Absolutely not,” Benedict said cheerfully, releasing Anthony’s shoulder and stepping away before he got roped into something.

A few feet away, Eloise and Daphne stood observing.

“He looks like he’s about to face a firing squad,” Eloise remarked.

Daphne sipped her water. “In a way, he is. Except the bullets are just well-researched questions.”

Benedict joined them, lowering his voice. “On a more serious note, there’s still no sign of Will Mondrich. We’ve checked everywhere connected to Sienna her house, her usual spots, even her favorite café. He’s not there.”

Eloise frowned. “So either he’s hiding, or—”

“Or he’s already been moved somewhere else,” Benedict finished grimly.

Daphne exchanged a look with them both. Anthony’s interview was about to begin, but the real storm was still brewing in the background.

The cameras rolled, the studio lights blazed, and Kate Sharma smiled like a professional who was absolutely not about to lose her patience on live television.

"Welcome back," she said smoothly. "Today, we have Anthony Bridgerton here to share his side of the story regarding the recent allegations made against him by Sienna Rosso."

Anthony sat stiffly in his chair, looking like a man who had been forced into this situation against his will—which, to be fair, he had.

Kate started with the basics. "Anthony, let’s talk about your relationship with Sienna. How would you describe it?"

Anthony cleared his throat. “It was… a relationship.”

Kate blinked. “That’s not exactly a description.”

Anthony forced a tight smile. “It had… its moments.”

Eloise, watching from the sidelines, muttered, "Oh, this is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?"

Kate kept her composed demeanor. "Would you say it was a healthy relationship?"

Anthony scoffed. "If by ‘healthy,’ you mean emotionally draining, financially reckless, and a series of bad decisions wrapped in a pretty package then sure, it was very healthy."

Kate pressed on. "And yet, you stayed with her?"

Anthony shrugged. "You ever see a toddler throw a tantrum in a store, and instead of fighting it, the parent just hands them candy? That was me. I was the parent. Sienna was the toddler. Except the candy was expensive jewelry and vacations."

Benedict covered his mouth, trying not to laugh.

Kate’s pleasant interview tone shifted. "So, when exactly did you realize things were going wrong?"

Anthony’s expression darkened. "Probably around the time she went on Instagram Live and accused me of ruining her life."

"And why do you think she would say that?"

"Because she’s lying," Anthony said bluntly.

Kate’s eyes narrowed. "You seem very confident about that."

"Of course, I am," Anthony said. "But let me guess, you don’t believe me because you’re a feminist, right?" He smirked. "You see one tear from a woman, and suddenly, men are guilty until proven innocent."

The silence that followed was so loud, even the cameras seemed to hesitate.

Eloise and Daphne turned to look at each other, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, he did not just say that," Eloise muttered.

Daphne sipped her water. "I am suddenly very invested in how Kate is going to end his career."

Kate’s smile remained frozen. "Anthony, are you suggesting that women should not be believed when they speak about their experiences?"

"I’m suggesting that maybe just maybe not every woman is an innocent victim and not every man is a villain."

Kate’s smile twitched. "Ah. So what you’re saying is, it’s inconvenient for you when women speak up about mistreatment?"

Anthony leaned back in his chair. "I’m saying you’d make an excellent lawyer… if your goal was to twist my words into an entirely different conversation."

Benedict, now sweating, waved his hands frantically from behind the cameras, mouthing, "STOP TALKING."

Kate, realizing this was quickly spiraling into the worst PR disaster of the century, turned to the camera with a dazzlingly fake smile.

"And on that note," she said, voice sickly sweet, "it’s time for a break!"

The screen immediately cut to an ad for toothpaste.

The moment the cameras cut to a toothpaste commercial, Kate ripped off her mic, turned to Anthony, and said, “Are you out of your mind?!”

Anthony, equally furious, yanked off his own mic. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I not allowed to defend myself? Or does the feminist handbook say men should just sit there and nod while women rewrite history?”

Benedict, standing between them like an underpaid referee in a boxing match, sighed. “Okay, let’s all take a deep breath before this turns into an actual crime scene.”

Kate ignored him. “You’re unbelievable. Do you even hear yourself when you talk? Or is your ego so massive that it drowns out all logic?”

Anthony crossed his arms. “Oh, forgive me, Your Highness of Wokeness. Next time, I’ll just let the entire world think I’m a villain while you sip your overpriced organic tea and write think-pieces about me.”

Benedict raised both hands. “Alright, great, loving the energy here—very passionate but maybe we lower the volume before the studio staff starts recording this for a bonus episode of Disaster Interviews Gone Wrong?”

Kate threw up her hands. “I don’t have time for this.”

Anthony scoffed. “Oh, you don’t have time? I’M the one being publicly executed here!”

Just then, Daphne who had been quietly scrolling through her phone, entirely detached from the circus suddenly gasped. Her eyes widened, her grip on her phone tightening like she was holding a live grenade.

“Oh, we have a HUGE problem,” she said loudly.

The entire room froze.

Anthony, Kate, Benedict, Eloise, the camera crew, even the guy adjusting the studio lights—all turned to stare at her.

***

Colin stepped off the vehicle, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. “I think I’ve just survived the most terrifying ride of my life.”

“You should be grateful,” Penelope said, setting the kickstand. “If we’d taken your car, they would’ve seen the almighty Colin Bridgton rolling up and sounded every alarm in this creepy house.”

She gestured at the imposing structure before them Bridgton Lodge.

Despite its grand name, the building looked anything but welcoming. The paint was peeling off the walls, the windows were fogged with years of neglect, and the entire place loomed over them like it

had been plucked from a horror movie. Even the trees seemed to be conspiring to make it look spookier, their bare branches stretching like skeletal fingers against the night sky.

Colin stared at it in sheer disbelief.

“Is it just me,” he muttered, “or is this place haunted?”

Penelope smirked. “What’s wrong, Lord Bridgton? I thought you were a fearless explorer. What’s a little dirt gonna do? Steal your charm?”

“It’s not dirt I’m worried about,” Colin replied, glaring at the cobwebs draping the entrance. “This place looks like it eats people for breakfast.”

He took a deep breath and looked at the door, which creaked ominously as if inviting them inside. “Also, why did we park outside? Shouldn’t we just go in through the front door like normal people?”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because if we waltz in through the front, someone might actually notice the almighty Colin Bridgton showing up here?” She raised an eyebrow. “Do you want a Bridgton Lodge Welcome Parade?”

“Better than a Bridgton Lodge Murder Mystery,” Colin muttered.

As if to prove his point, a distant, echoing creak came from inside the building. A slow, dragging sound followed, like something or someone shuffling through the dust-covered halls. Colin’s entire body tensed, and his eyes darted toward Penelope.

“Tell me we’re not about to get sacrificed to whatever’s making that noise.”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Penelope said, though she found herself gripping his sleeve a little too tightly for someone who wasn’t at all scared. “It’s just a place, Colin.”

Colin surveyed the peeling wallpaper, the flickering lightbulb that seemed to be hanging on for dear life, and the unmistakable scent of damp wood and regret. “Penelope, I don’t do haunted lodges. There’s something in there.”

From inside the building, they heard another noise this time, a creak followed by a faint, eerie chuckle.

Before Colin could so much as blink, Penelope had already lunged at him, dragging them both into the shadows of a nearby corner. They pressed close together, their backs to the damp, crumbling wall as they listened. The lodge moaned as the wind howled through its decayed structure.

Their eyes met, wide with a mix of nerves and excitement. Penelope raised a single eyebrow. “Alright, Bridgton,” she whispered with a smirk, her breath warm against his cheek. “What’s next?”

Colin exhaled, looking down at her, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were. He was certain she could hear his heart hammering. He shifted, just slightly, as another eerie creak echoed through the lodge.

“Well,” he whispered back. “We could turn around, get on the scooter, and leave before some ghost decides to make me his dinner…”

Biting back a smirk, Penelope placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Relax, it’s just a building, Colin. A totally normal, harmless—"

A floorboard creaked in the distance. Colin inhaled sharply.

"Okay, maybe slightly less normal than I thought,” she admitted.

Colin glanced warily down the dimly lit hallway. “You’re awfully comfortable with this place.”

She nudged a broken picture frame on the floor with her foot. “Look, I don’t live here, if that’s what you’re asking. But I know some of the residents.”

Colin folded his arms. “Who do you know?”

“Because Prudence lives here” Penelope admitted. “She is a makeup artist work under you bridgton’s so she live here .And there’s also  Ted he came here to become a big-shot chef but now works has a cook here that puts way too much garlic in their soup. He keeps saying he’s ‘gonna be the next Gordon Ramsay’ but mostly just sets things on fire. Then, there’s Meera, who’s convinced she’s going to be a K-Pop idol under you’r agency, even though she doesn’t speak a word of Korean. Oh, and there’s Jonathan, who throws the best parties because he gets most of his alcohol for free from a job he had for exactly one week before getting fired.”

Colin muttered, glancing over his shoulder as another floorboard creaked. “You have very questionable taste in social circles.”

Colin exhaled slowly, glancing around with clear suspicion. “Just… promise me if some tragic poet jumps out of nowhere, you’ll take the first hit.”

Penelope smirked. “Fine. But only if you promise not to scream.”

Colin huffed. “I do not scream.”

A shadow moved at the end of the hall.

Colin let out a very undignified yelp.

“Right,” Penelope said, pulling him forward. “so what is the plan.”

Colin blinked at Penelope, his expression utterly blank. “I don’t know… let’s search each room?”

Penelope inhaled sharply, closed her eyes for a second, then exhaled. “Oh my God, Colin, this building has over a hundred rooms. By the time we find the clue, the mystery will be a historical event.”

Colin tensed, shifting uncomfortably. “Okay, fair point.”

Penelope took a deep breath, pulled out her phone, and started typing.

Colin leaned over, squinting. “Are you seriously scrolling through Instagram right now?” He let out a dramatic sigh“Penelope, this is really not the time to check your feed.”

She ignored him, scrolling through her screen with laser focus. After a minute of complete silence, she looked up at Colin, then back at her phone, then back at Colin again.

“This is Sienna’s Instagram account,” she said, turning the screen toward him. “If we check who she’s close with apart from Anthony—we might find someone in this building who’s helping her.”

Colin stared at the screen, then at Penelope, then back at the screen. His expression was blank.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Penelope sighed. “Oh, for God’s sake.” She zoomed in on one of Sienna’s posts. “Look. Here she is with Cressida.”

Colin made a face. “Cressida? Ugh, figures.”

“She lives here,” Penelope continued, clicking on Cressida’s tagged profile. “Now, if she were the one helping Sienna, she wouldn’t have time to be posting on social media, right?”

Colin nodded slowly, trying to keep up. “Right…”

Penelope held up the phone triumphantly. “And yet, ten minutes ago, Cressida posted a story supporting Sienna—and another picture of her eating breakfast. Which means she’s not the one helping her right now.”

Colin’s eyes widened as the logic finally clicked. “Ohhh… that’s actually brilliant.”

Penelope smirked. “I know.”

Colin quickly pulled out his phone. “Alright, genius, let’s test your theory. I’ll check Sienna’s friends and see who’s gone suspiciously silent today.”

A few moments passed as they scrolled through accounts in concentrated silence. Then, Colin suddenly pointed at his screen. “I think it’s Cho.”

Penelope leaned in, squinting. “Why?”

“He hasn’t posted a single thing today,” Colin said, tapping on Cho’s profile. “But yesterday, he put up a story about traveling and he tagged a location very similar to the one Anthony mentioned when he was talking about where he was hiding william and her family.”

They stared at each other, realization dawning on their faces.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, at the exact same time, they grinned.

“We found a clue,” Colin said in awe.

“We found a clue,” Penelope echoed, grinning back.

Chapter Text

“If ambition had an address, it would’ve been Bridgton Lodge at least once upon a time. Built by the legendary Harold Bridgton(Edmund Bridgton Grandfather), a man who could turn dust into gold ,the lodge was more than just a home. It was a philosophy, a way of life, a training ground for those who dared to dream big. People who lived here once walked out as leaders, entrepreneurs, and unstoppable forces of success. It was the kind of place where even a lazy afternoon nap felt like a waste of potential.

But that was then.

Now? Bridgton Lodge looks more like the setting of a low-budget horror movie. Creaking floors, dimly lit hallways, and a general air of ‘something definitely died here’ it’s all part of the charm. The grand empire Harold built has faded into a questionable living space occupied by individuals who have absolutely no idea what they’re doing with their lives. They work under the Bridgton name, sure, but ask them about their five-year plan, and they’ll probably respond with “Dinner?”

The once-motivational aura of the lodge has turned into an existential waiting room. The people here aren’t chasing dreams they’re just trying to figure out whether they should reheat leftovers or order takeout. The only life-changing lessons happening here now are learning how to dodge responsibilities or pretending to have WiFi issues to escape work calls.

But the lodge has seen worse. And if history has taught us anything, it’s that things don’t stay the same forever.

So, let’s see when it all changes.”

***

“So, Cho is helping Sinnea,” Penelope muttered, arms crossed. She wasn’t exactly surprised Cho had always been the type to pick the wrong side.

Colin sighed. “Alright. We need to talk to him. Do you have his number?”

Penelope gave him a look of pure disbelief. “Why would I have Cho’s number? He spent most of my childhood making my life miserable.”

“Good point.” Colin pulled out his phone, scrolled for a second, and nodded. “Well, I have it.”

Penelope held out her hand. “Great. You call him.”

Colin smirked and shook his head. “Nope. You call him.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“If I call, he’ll see my number and not pick up. But if you call from your phone an unknown number he’s more likely to answer,” Colin explained. “It’s the perfect plan.”

Penelope groaned. “Or, hear me out, you call him and leave a really convincing voicemail.”

“Pen.” Colin gave her a pointed look.

She huffed, pulled out her phone, and punched in the number. “If this goes badly, I’m blaming you.”

“That’s fair.”

She hit dial. The phone rang once… twice… nothing.

Colin gestured for her to try again. She sighed and pressed redial.

That’s when they heard it.

A phone ringing. Nearby.

They both went rigid.

Penelope whispered, “Tell me that’s just a wild coincidence.”

Colin’s jaw tightened. “We don’t live in a world where things work out that easily.”

They turned toward the sound. The ringing was coming from the basement area.

A dark, poorly lit corridor stretched ahead of them, leading to a space that looked exactly like the kind of place where people disappeared.

Wordlessly, they followed the sound, careful with their steps. The deeper they went, the stronger the uneasy feeling grew.

“This place screams ‘crime scene,’” Penelope muttered.

Colin exhaled. “Yeah. Like, ‘police will find our last known location’ kind of crime scene.”

They reached the basement entrance, barely pushing the door open. Inside, dim lighting flickered, casting eerie shadows across old crates and dusty walls. It had the look of a forgotten storage space except storage rooms didn’t usually have three people standing around in hushed conversation.

Penelope’s breath hitched. Colin grabbed her arm and quickly pulled her behind a stack of boxes.

They crouched down, barely breathing.

As they peeked through a gap between the crates, their eyes locked onto the figures standing in the center of the room.

Their attention first landed on Cho, standing stiffly as if awaiting instructions. But it wasn’t Cho that made their breath catch in their throats.

It was the man sitting in the wheelchair.

Colin’s entire body went rigid. Penelope slapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from gasping.

William Mondrich.

The man who had vanished.

The man everyone believed was either dead or in hiding.

And yet, there he was alive, in a wheelchair, looking far different from the last time they had seen him.

Beside him stood a woman, her hand resting lightly on the wheelchair’s handle. She had a sharp, cautious gaze, like someone who had seen too much and trusted too little. Standing close to her was a little girl, no older than five, clutching a stuffed rabbit.

Penelope turned to Colin, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Colin looked back at her, equally stunned. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Neither of them had expected this.

Neither of them knew what this meant.

And neither of them had the faintest idea what to do next.

***

The front of Sinnea’s house was packed with reporters, their cameras flashing as they shouted questions. She stood on her doorstep, basking in the attention, adjusting her sleek black dress like she was about to make the most important announcement of the century.

With a dramatic sigh, she removed her oversized sunglasses and gazed at the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I know you’re all desperate for answers.” She placed a delicate hand on her chest, as if deeply moved by the situation. “And I’m here to give them to you.”

Reporters started yelling questions:

🗣️ "Sinnea! Are the allegations true?"

🗣️ "Did Anthony Bridgerton pay Will Mondrich to disappear?"

🗣️ "Is it true that you faked your tears during the last Instagram Live?"

Sinnea gasps dramatically. "Excuse me?! My tears were REAL, and how DARE you suggest otherwise!" she snaps, placing a hand over her heart like they had insulted her soul.

The murmuring intensified. Journalists leaned in. The anticipation was almost comical.

“I will prove my innocence.” Sinnea’s voice was steady, confident perfectly rehearsed. “But all you have to do…” She let the silence stretch before flashing a knowing smile. “…is follow me.”

Somewhere in the back, a confused pizza delivery guy who just happened to be there says, "Follow her where?"

A wave of confusion passed through the reporters. Some exchanged glances, others frantically checked their notes as if they had missed something crucial.

And because Sinnea loved an audience, she took out her phone and went live on Instagram.

“To everyone watching,” she said smoothly, flipping her hair, “you know I always stand for the truth. And today, I will clear my name once and for all.”

A flood of comments poured in some cheering her on, others questioning what was even happening.

With the confidence of a queen heading to her throne, she strode to her black BMW, slid into the passenger seat, and crossed her legs.

The driver, who had witnessed enough of her dramatic antics, simply asked, “Where to, ma’am?”

Sinnea smirked. “To Bridgton Lodge.”

The cameras flashed again. Reporters rushed to their vehicles. In a matter of seconds, an entire convoy of media cars was trailing Sinnea’s BMW, their headlights forming a parade of curiosity, scandal, and breaking news.

Whatever happened next, the whole world would be watching.

***

Colin and Penelope crouched in the shadows, their breathing shallow as they watched the scene unfold before them. Will Mondrich sat in a wheelchair, his face hollow and worn, his wife Alice standing beside him, holding their child close. Across from them stood Cho, his expression dark, his presence radiating silent menace.

“You will do exactly as planned,” Cho murmured, his voice calm but laced with quiet threat. His sharp gaze locked onto Alice. “Sinnea will be here soon with the news crew. The world will see how the Bridgertons kept you locked away for two years.” His lips curled into a smirk. “And you will say exactly what we taught you. You will blame them. No mistakes.”

Alice’s grip on her child tightened, her entire body trembling. Cho leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Many people will be watching,” he continued, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “If you slip up—if you so much as hesitate—” He turned his attention to Will, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder, fingers digging in. Then he laughed softly, the sound devoid of warmth. “Do you understand what will happen?”

A silent sob escaped Alice’s lips as she gave a small, fearful nod.

Colin clenched his fists, his jaw tightening in fury. “You son of a—” he muttered under his breath, shifting to stand, ready to confront them.

But before he could move, Penelope grabbed his arm, her grip firm. “Not now,” she whispered, her voice urgent.

Colin’s eyes burned with anger. “What do you mean, not now?” he hissed, barely containing his rage.

Penelope’s gaze flickered toward Will, then back to Colin. “First, we have to get them out of here,” she said, her voice steady but low. “If you rush in now, things will only get more complicated. We don’t have time for a fight.”

Colin exhaled sharply, every muscle in his body coiled with tension. He wanted nothing more than to punch Cho in the face, to put an end to this nightmare. But he understood Penelope’s words. They had to be smart. They had to move fast.

With a reluctant nod, he backed down.

“In twenty minutes, Sinnea will be here,” Cho said. He pointed at Will Mondrich’s child. “William and the little brat will stay here.” Then he turned to Alice. “And you… you’ll be in Gregory’s room.”

Colin stiffened. His hands clenched into fists.

Penelope noticed and whispered, “Is Gregory living here?”

Colin didn’t answer. His face was full of anger

Cho kept talking. “You’ll tell the reporters that Gregory Bridgerton helped you stay here in secret. That he gave you everything you needed. That Anthony put him in charge of watching over you.” He looked at Alice with a cold stare. “Don’t forget what I told you earlier.”

Alice only nodded, fear in her eyes.

“Come on,” Cho said, motioning her to follow. “I’ll take you to Gregory’s room. I already made sure he won’t be in the lounge for at least two more hours.”

With that, Cho and Alice left, leaving Will and his child behind.

Colin and Penelope shared a shocked look.

“We need to act fast,” Penelope whispered.

Colin nodded, still in shock.

“You help Will and his child,” Penelope said. “I’ll follow Alice. If I get a chance, I’ll help her escape.”

Colin hesitated. “It’s too risky. What if Cho catches you? I should go with you after helping Will.”

Penelope shook her head. “Colin, we don’t have time for that. Alice needs someone she can trust. I can talk to her without making Cho suspicious.” She smirked slightly. “Besides, I was Lady Whistledown once. Cho used to be scared of me.”

She winked at him, trying to ease the tension.

Colin looked at her for a moment, then sighed. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Just as they were about to move, a soft voice came from behind them.

“What are you guys going to do?”

Colin and Penelope froze. Their hearts pounded as they turned around.

Penelope’s eyes widened, and in a low, shocked voice, she whispered, “Marina”

***

As the video ended, silence settled over the room. The Bridgertons exchanged looks, some baffled, others mildly impressed.

Eloise was the first to speak. "Did she just—"

"Yes," Kate interrupted, rubbing her temples.

"—tell the world to follow her like some kind of messiah and then get into a BMW?"

"Yes," Anthony muttered, jaw tight.

Benedict exhaled. "I have to admit, she knows how to put on a show. If this whole scandal thing doesn’t work out, she has a bright future in reality television."

Daphne scrolled through her phone, eyebrows raising. "People are calling it Sinnea’s Redemption Tour. Some are even rooting for her."

Eloise scoffed. "Rooting for what? A car chase to a dramatic confession? What’s next—a musical number?"

Benedict hummed thoughtfully. "Actually, if she had timed it to a slow-motion walk and played ‘I Will Survive’ in the background, I would’ve respected the effort."

Kate, shaking her head in disbelief, turned to Anthony. “Your girlfriend is a cartoon villain. And not even a good one.

She’s turning a crime investigation into a red carpet event."

Anthony, arms crossed, let out a slow breath. "And the worst part? It’s working. She’s controlling the narrative while I sit here doing nothing."

Benedict nodded. "Yep. Right now, she’s starring in a dramatic thriller while you’re just a guy watching it unfold."

Daphne smirked. "A very angry guy."

Anthony turned sharply to Kate. "Turn the cameras back on."

Kate blinked. "Excuse me?"

"We’re going live again. Right now." He adjusted his suit, his expression set with determination.

Benedict leaned back in his chair. "Oh, this is about to be very interesting."

Eloise grabbed a nearby cup of tea. "Should we place bets on how long before he starts yelling?"

Kate sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Anthony, maybe take a minute before—"

"Now," he cut in, voice firm. "If she gets to play the misunderstood victim, then I get to tell the truth."

Daphne exchanged a look with Kate. "This could either be a brilliant move… or another PR disaster."

Benedict grinned. "So, classic Anthony?"

Kate sighed but signaled the crew. The countdown began.

Three.

Two.

One.

***

Colin and Penelope froze as the voice behind them broke the tense silence. Slowly, they turned around, their hearts pounding.

Standing there, arms crossed and looking far too amused for the situation, was Marina.

“What are you guys going to do?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Penelope let out a sharp breath. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, her voice filled with both suspicion and disbelief.

Marina shrugged casually. “Got an internship at Bridgton News Channel. I’ll be staying at the lodge soon, so I came to check the place out.” She smirked. “Then I saw you sneaking in like a thief, and well… I followed you. Just for fun.”

Penelope blinked. “Oh.”

Colin and Marina locked eyes for a brief moment. A flicker of something unreadable passed between them.

Colin frowned and glanced between them. “How do you know her?” he asked, confused.

Penelope sighed. “My cousin.”

Colin’s eyebrows shot up slightly, but before he could react,

Penelope turned serious, stepping closer. “Did you hear everything that happened here?” she asked, voice low.

Marina nodded without hesitation.

There was a beat of silence. Then, without wasting any time, Penelope grabbed Marina’s hand.

“You’re going to help us,” she said, decisive.

Marina, slightly taken aback, hesitated. “Wait, what?”

Penelope pushed forward. “You and Colin will help William and his child escape. I’ll go after Alice.”

Marina nodded instantly, but Colin’s eyes widened in protest. “No, no, no! I can handle this alone. You two go and help Alice,” he insisted, glancing toward the hall where Cho had disappeared. “It’s not safe for you to go alone, Penelope. Who knows who else is lurking there besides Cho?”

Penelope narrowed her eyes. “Colin, think practically. William is in a wheelchair. You can’t fight off those thugs, push the wheelchair, and carry a child all at once.” She gestured toward the group of goons standing guard. “You’d be outnumbered in seconds.”

Colin opened his mouth to argue, but Penelope cut him off.

“I think it’s a gift from the universe that Marina is here,” she said with a smirk. “So let’s use her wisely.”

Marina crossed her arms. “Wow, thanks. Glad to know I’m a divine miracle.”

Colin hesitated, still unsure. His gaze flickered toward Marina again. His eyes softened for just a second before something clicked in his mind.

He straightened up. “Fine. Marina will stay with me. That’s final.”

***

As soon as Penelope disappeared into the shadows, Colin and Marina found themselves standing awkwardly in the dimly lit corridor. They exchanged glances, both unsure of what to say.

The only other time they had met was at the Bridgton party a memory Colin wasn’t sure was pleasant or not.

Finally, in what he thought was a grand, chivalrous gesture, Colin straightened his shoulders and said, “Don’t worry, Marina. I will protect you.”

Marina raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Oh, how lucky am I? A man who thinks he’s the hero of his own action movie.” She smirked. “Should I start swooning now or wait until you dramatically take your shirt off in battle?”

Colin blinked, thrown off for a moment. Then, to his own surprise, he let out a small laugh. “You’re a menace,” he muttered, secretly impressed.

“Glad you noticed.”

But there was no time for further banter. They had a job to do.

Colin took a deep breath and stepped forward, drawing the attention of the gangsters loitering near William’s room. “Hey, gentlemen! Sorry to interrupt your intense criminal brainstorming session, but I just have to ask—do you guys practice looking that ugly, or is it natural talent?”

The goons turned toward him, fuming.

“Oh, that did it,” Marina muttered. “They look personally offended.”

Colin barely had time to smirk before the first gangster lunged at him. He ducked, dodging the punch with ease. The second one came charging, but Colin countered, landing a solid hit to the man’s jaw. A phone flew out of the gangster’s pocket. One of them scrambled to grab it, clearly trying to call for backup, but Colin was faster. He kicked the phone across the floor.

“Oops,” Colin said. “Hope you weren’t calling your mom.”

Meanwhile, Marina spotted something far worse a thug reaching for the child.

“Oh, absolutely not,” she snapped. With surprising speed, she lunged at the man, yanking the child away and delivering a swift kick to his shin. The gangster howled in pain.

Colin, mid-fight, paused to stare. “That was actually impressive.”

Marina rolled her eyes. “Less talking, more punching!”

Colin snapped back into action, fending off the last of the goons. Within minutes, they were all groaning on the ground, some unconscious, some wishing they were.

Finally, Colin turned toward William. The man sat in his wheelchair, unmoving, staring blankly ahead.

“William?” Colin called. No response.

Marina waved a hand in front of his face. Nothing.

Colin frowned. “Is he—?”

“He’s breathing,” Marina said quickly. “But he looks like a statue.”

Colin exhaled, rubbing his temples. “Great. Just what we needed. “

Without wasting another second, they moved. Marina grabbed the child, while Colin took hold of William’s wheelchair and started pushing.

As they reached the back exit of the lodge, Marina glanced at Colin. “Think Penelope’s having an easier time?”

Colin let out a dry chuckle. “Not a chance.”

With that, they slipped into the night, heading toward the meeting point.

***

Kate forced a smile, the kind that only barely concealed her exasperation. She had dealt with a lot of nonsense today, but somehow, this press conference was determined to push her over the edge.

She turned to Anthony, who was seated beside her, exuding the kind of confidence that suggested he was about to drop something big.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” she began, keeping her voice steady, “you’ve just seen Sinnea’s live statement, where she dramatically declared her innocence and led a full parade of reporters to Bridgton Lodge. What do you have to say about that?”

Anthony leaned forward, staring directly at the camera like a man who had been waiting his entire life for this moment.

“What do I have to say?” He scoffed. “Simple.”

Kate raised an expectant eyebrow.

Anthony smirked. “Sinnea was the one driving the car.”

The room fell silent.

Kate blinked. “…I’m sorry, what?”

Anthony crossed his arms. “You heard me.”

Kate exhaled sharply. “Just to clarify, you’re saying on live television that Sinnea Rosso was the one behind the wheel the night of the accident?”

Anthony nodded, utterly unbothered.

Kate inhaled deeply, pressing her fingers to her temple. “And do you oh, have proof?”

Anthony’s smirk faltered just slightly.

“Not at this exact moment,” he admitted.

Kate closed her eyes for a long second. “Not at this exact moment,” she repeated, as if trying to digest the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“Correct,” Anthony said, still far too confident for someone with exactly zero evidence in hand.

Kate stared at him, utterly deadpan. “So, to summarize: You have no proof, but you just went ahead and said that on national television?”

Benedict, sipping his coffee nearby, interjected, “I mean, in his defense, that does sound like something Sinnea would do.”

Eloise, scrolling through her phone, didn’t even look up. “Honestly? I respect the confidence.”

Kate clenched her jaw. “Let me just let me understand this correctly. You just accused you girlfriend, who already has the entire media wrapped around her finger, without a single shred of hard evidence?”

Anthony lifted a finger. “Technically, the truth is on my side.”

Kate threw her hands up. “Oh, well, as long as the truth is on your side, Mister Bridgton, then by all means, let’s just ignore facts and evidence and go with vibes.”

Anthony leaned back, smug. “That’s what she’s been doing.”

Kate groaned. “Yes, but she at least puts effort into her nonsense. Meanwhile, you—”

Before she could finish, Anthony’s phone vibrated.

He glanced down at the screen.

A message from Colin.

Colin: Look what I found.

Attached was a blurry photo.

A man.

In a wheelchair.

Will Mondrich.

Another message followed.

Colin: We’ll be there soon.

Anthony’s smirk returned in full force.

He looked up at Kate, then directly into the camera, adjusting his cufflinks with the ease of a man who suddenly had the upper hand.

he said smoothly, “I have proof to solve this problem.”

***

Penelope pressed herself against the cold wall, holding her breath as she peeked around the corner. The second floor was way more crowded than she expected. People stood outside their rooms, gossiping, laughing, and one guy bizarrely was just eating noodles like he had all the time in the world.

She frowned. Why does this place feel less like a criminal hideout and more like a college hostel at midnight?

Her plan was simple: get to Gregory’s room without being seen. Unfortunately, stealth wasn’t exactly easy when half the lodge’s residents were loitering like they were waiting for a parade.

She took a small step forward.

Someone loudly cleared their throat.

She yelped and flattened herself against the wall, heart racing. But it was just one of the guys outside his room, dramatically recounting a story to his half-listening friend.

“So then I said to her  listen, are you even paying attention, bro?”

Penelope groaned inwardly. Of course. This isn’t a criminal operation. It’s a TED Talk.

Her mind scrambled for solutions. Maybe I could fake being a delivery person? No, that’s stupid. A lost hotel guest? Nope, worse. A ghost?

Before she could decide on a plan, her saving grace arrived—though not in a form she particularly liked.

A group of three bulky men clearly Cho’s friends stomped up the stairs.

The entire floor’s energy shifted. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Laughter died down. Even the noodle guy hesitated mid-slurp, looking like he’d just been caught committing a crime.

One of the goons cracked his knuckles. “Everyone, inside your rooms. Now.”

A brief, tense silence followed.

Then, pure chaos.

Doors slammed shut like they were in a haunted house. A couple of people actually tripped over themselves trying to get inside. Noodle Guy abandoned his half-eaten meal and sprinted for cover like his life depended on it.

Penelope, still hiding, blinked. Okay. That worked. Not exactly for me, but still…

The goons did a final sweep, nodding at the now silent hallway. Satisfied, they marched toward Gregory’s door and knocked.

The door creaked open, revealing Cho. He looked around the now eerily empty hallway, his lips curling into a pleased smirk.

“Good job,” he told his men.

Penelope, still pressed against the wall, clenched her fists.

Yeah. Fantastic. Just brilliant.

As she debated between running away and doing something incredibly reckless, she overheard Cho speaking to his goons.

"Go stand by the staircase," Cho ordered, rubbing his temples like an overworked boss dealing with incompetent employees. "If anyone comes, block them. And move immediately when Sinnea arrives with the media."

The goons nodded like obedient minions and stomped off toward the staircase.

She inhaled deeply, her mind racing. What to do, what to do? She had two choices: stand there like an idiot or do something reckless.

She straightened. "Okay, Penelope. Sudden action."

Before she could second-guess herself, she strode up to Gregory’s door and knocked.

The door swung open almost instantly. Cho stood there, looking mildly irritated, already mid-sentence. "Hey, I told you not to disturb—"

WHAM.

Penelope’s fist met his nose with a level of force that was, frankly, shocking even to herself.

Cho staggered back, clutching his face. "OW! WHAT THE—"

Penelope, acting purely on adrenaline and the fact that she really didn’t have a plan past this, shoved him with all her strength. He stumbled backward, arms flailing, and before he could recover, she spotted the bathroom door, grabbed his wrist, and yeeted him inside.

SLAM!

The door shut.

CLICK!

The lock turned.

Silence.

Penelope blinked at the door.

From inside, a muffled, "Are you kidding me?!"

Penelope let out a breath and turned to see Alice standing frozen, eyes wide in pure, undiluted shock.

There was a long pause before Penelope finally blurted out, panic creeping into her voice, "He’s not going to die, right?"

***

The black BMW cruised down the highway, its interior filled with the luxurious scent of expensive perfume and a faint trace of desperation. Sinnea sat in the passenger seat, her phone propped up on the dashboard as she continued her very dramatic Instagram Live.

"People of the world," she declared, adjusting her hair mid-sentence. "I promise you I will prove my innocence. And to all my supporters my darlings, my warriors of truth thank you for standing by me in this dark time."

The driver, a grumpy man named Ravi who had seen way too much of Sinnea's nonsense, barely spared her a glance.

Behind her, Sinnea’s lawyer, a stiff man in an overpriced suit, suddenly gasped. “Oh my God.”

Sinnea snapped her head toward him. “What?”

The lawyer's eyes were glued to his phone, his fingers shaking as he turned the screen toward her. “Look at this!”

On the screen was the Bridgton News livestream.

And there was Anthony Bridgerton, sitting in his fancy little studio, looking insufferably smug.

Sinnea’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows twitched as Anthony’s voice rang through the car speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have proof to solve this problem.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“WHAT?” Sinnea shrieked, causing Ravi to flinch so hard the car nearly swerved off the road.

The chat on her Instagram Live exploded.

@SinneaFan99: OMG GIRL WHAT IS HAPPENING

@Justice4Sinnea: Stay strong, queen!!!

@HotTeaSpiller: LMAO she did NOT see that coming

@ColinTheMenace: Anthony looks way too smug rn. I’m scared.

Sinnea grabbed the phone, her nostrils flaring. “This is BULLSH*T!” she screamed, shoving the screen into the camera so her followers could see Anthony’s stupid, smirking face. “This man is LYING! He has NO proof! This is all a pathetic attempt to frame me!”

The lawyer cleared his throat. “Well, technically, he said he has proof, which means—”

Sinnea whipped around so fast he nearly recoiled.

“ARE YOU ON MY SIDE OR NOT?” she demanded.

The lawyer gulped. “Of course! I just—”

“SHUT UP!” she snapped, then turned back to her Live.

Her face softened instantly, switching back into her graceful victim mode.

“Darlings,” she cooed, blinking dramatically at the camera. “Don’t be fooled by Anthony’s lies. This is nothing but a baseless attack on my character. I mean, think about it! He didn’t even show proof, did he? NO! Because he HAS NONE!”

The comment section was on fire.

@TeaTimeTina: GIRL U SWEATING

@JusticeForAnthony: This is NOT looking good for you

@SinneaFan101: Stay calm, queen! Manifest innocence!

Sinnea was not calm.

With a dramatic flair, she threw her sunglasses across the car, nearly taking out her lawyer in the process. Then, with the speed of a woman who absolutely refused to lose, she whipped toward the driver.

Her eyes blazed. Her nostrils flared.

"DRIVE FAST TO THE BRIDGTON LODGE!" she shrieked, her voice so sharp it could slice through steel.

Ravi, the poor, overworked driver, sighed so deeply he nearly inhaled his own soul.

“Ma’am, I’m already going—”

Sinnea slammed her hand on the dashboard.

“FASTER!”

Ravi blinked twice. Then, with the resigned air of a man who wasn’t paid enough for this, he muttered something about regretting all his life choices and floored the gas.

The BMW lurched forward, tires screeching, Sinnea’s furious face still frozen on her Instagram Live as thousands of viewers watched history being made.

***

Penelope stepped forward, her voice urgent. “Alice, we don’t have time. You need to come with me to Bridgton Broadcasting Station now before Sinnea gets here first.”

Alice’s hands trembled as she stood her ground. “I’m not going to Bridgton Broadcasting Station.”

Penelope’s heart pounded. “Alice, we have to go before Sinnea gets there first. If we tell the truth now—”

“You don’t get it,” Alice snapped, her voice thick with emotion. “The truth? The truth is that Anthony Bridgerton and Sinnea destroyed my husband.”

Penelope’s breath hitched.

Alice clenched her fists. “William was a good man. A strong, kind, healthy man. And now?” Her voice cracked. “Now he can’t even walk. He can’t talk. Do you know what it’s like to sit beside your husband every day, watching him struggle to do the simplest things? To see the man you love, the man who once held his head high, reduced to this?”

Tears spilled down Alice’s cheeks.

“When William testified against them about that car accident, they ruined us,” she whispered. “They took everything his job, his reputation. They made sure we had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. We were forced to live in some godforsaken place, completely under their watch. And do you know what they did next?” Her breath hitched. “They drugged him.”

Penelope’s eyes widened. “What?”

“They drugged him, Penelope,” Alice repeated, voice shaking with rage. “Slowly, without either of us realizing. The people assigned to ‘watch over’ us Anthony’s and Sinnea’s people made sure William was kept weak. He didn’t even know what was happening to him. I didn’t know. We only found out recently when we visited a doctor.”

Penelope felt sick.

“We tried to escape after that. But they had eyes on us everywhere. We couldn’t go anywhere without them knowing.” Alice exhaled sharply. “And then Sinnea came. She told us there was a way out. That if we just did what she said, they’d finally stop watching us.”

A heavy silence filled the room.

“So no, Penelope,” Alice whispered. “I am not coming with you.”

Penelope’s heart ached. She had never seen someone so broken yet so determined to hold themselves together. She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“You know…” she began, her voice softer now, “when I was a kid, I used to get bullied.”

Alice blinked at the sudden shift.

Penelope let out a small laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Some of my friends Colin, Eloise they’d protect me when they were around. They’d always say, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.’ And I believed them.”

Alice’s shoulders relaxed slightly, listening.

“But one day, I opened my lunchbox and found it filled with cockroaches.” Penelope shuddered at the memory. “I panicked. I screamed. And everyone laughed.” She swallowed. “And you know what? Colin and Eloise weren’t there. No one was there to protect me.”

Alice’s expression softened.

“That’s when I realized I have to protect myself.” Penelope smirked slightly. “So, naturally, I decided on revenge. If they dumped cockroaches in my lunchbox, I was going to put frogs in theirs.”

Alice let out a small, breathless chuckle despite herself.

Penelope smiled. “So I went to a nearby lake, determined to catch a frog. I was struggling when suddenly, I heard a voice behind me ‘What are you doing here, baby doll?’”

Alice tilted her head. “Who was it?”

“The great Archie Featherington,” Penelope said, a fond smile on her lips. “My papa.”

Alice’s smile wavered.

“I told him everything. I expected him to encourage my plan, but instead, he said, ‘If you put frogs in their lunchboxes to punish them, what’s the difference between you and them?’”

Penelope sighed. “I tried to argue, but he cut me off. He said, ‘Okay, they bullied you first. But think about this—if you put a frog in their lunchbox, they’ll scream. And then everyone else will laugh at them. Will that make you happy?’”

Alice stayed quiet.

Penelope’s smile faded. “It made me think. If I went through with it, my life at school would’ve gotten worse. So instead, Papa went with me to the school. He reported the bullies, and the teacher warned them. Their parents found out. And after that? That kind of bullying never happened to me again.”

She looked Alice in the eye.

“So tell me… If you help Sinnea, do you think your life will really be better after that?” Her voice was gentle but firm. “You said William was a kind, trustworthy man. If he could speak right now, do you think he’d support what you’re doing?”

Alice sucked in a sharp breath.

She looked away, gripping her sleeves. Her mind raced. She pictured William not the man he was now, but the man he used to be. Strong. Honest. Proud of the way he lived.

And she knew.

“No,” she whispered. “He wouldn’t.”

Alice took a shaky breath. “Even now… even though he can’t walk or talk… William still holds his head high. Because he’s proud of himself. Proud of the man he was. Proud of the way he lived.”

Penelope smiled at her, nodding.

Alice wiped her tears, her expression hardening.

 she said, voice steady. “I’ll come with you.”

Chapter Text

Colin leaned against the hood of Marina’s car, tapping his phone impatiently, his jaw tight with concern. The lodge loomed in the background like a shadow, too quiet for his liking. William and his daughter were  in the backseat, safely hidden for now.

colin leaned against the car, his phone still in hand, frustration etched on his face. He hit redial again, muttering, “Pick up. Come on…”

Marina looked over. “Calling Penelope?”

He shook his head. “Gregory. My brother. He’s not answering.”

“Oh, the one that Cho guy mentioned?” she asked.

Colin nodded slowly, then sighed. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

They fell into silence for a beat before Colin glanced at her, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

“You know… I don’t say this often, but you look good under pressure,” he said, eyes glinting.

Marina arched an eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me in the middle of a rescue mission?”

Colin grinned. “Maybe. What if I am?”

Marina gave him a playful look. “Well, timing’s terrible. But points for confidence.”

Colin chuckled. “And here I thought I’d impress you with how cool I look leaning on a getaway car.”

She looked at the vehicle and smirked. “Fancy wheels, I’ll give you that.”

“I assume it’s yours?” he asked.

Marina scoffed. “Please. This car belongs to my boyfriend.”

Colin tilted his head. “Boyfriend? I didn’t know you were taken.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “you never asked.”

Colin’s grin widened. “Alright, consider me officially curious. Who’s the lucky man?”

Before she could answer, a sharp, blaring noise ripped through the air the fire alarm screamed, sudden and piercing. Colin and Marina both stiffened, turning toward the lodge as blinking red lights flared. Moments later, people from inside poured out, their expressions dazed and panicked.

“What the hell is happening? Where is Penelope?” Colin muttered, eyes scanning the scene.

Marina pointed suddenly, her voice urgent. “There!”

Colin followed her gaze. Penelope had just emerged from the chaos, her red hair catching the flashing lights. She was half-running, half-guiding a woman beside her  Alice. Across the lot, Penelope spotted him. Without hesitation, she raised her arm and waved.

Colin’s face lit up with relief, and he waved back, his eyes widening as he registered Alice beside her.

“Impressive,” he murmured under his breath.

Marina, turned sharply. “What’s impressive?”

Colin blinked and straightened up quickly. “Uh… your getaway coordination. Top notch.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Right.”

Penelope and Alice reached them a moment later, slightly breathless. Before Colin could speak, Marina turned to Penelope with concern.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Penelope said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “There were Cho’s men outside the room. It was really tough to get out, but we….” she glanced at Alice, then continued, “managed to trigger the fire alarm. Once it went off, the goons scattered right away.”

Colin smiled and said, “Then let’s go before anyone catch us.”

Alice slipped into the backseat beside William and their sleepy child, who blinked up at Penelope with big, curious eyes. The family was safe for now.

Penelope glanced at the front passenger door, only to see Marina already swinging it open.

“There’s no space,” Marina said, glancing between her and the child. “You go with them.”

Penelope started to protest, “No, I..”

But her phone buzzed.

She picked up quickly. “Hello?”

Philippa’s voice came in frantic, rushed.

“Penelope! Come fast. Papa got released from jail he’s here. He came to meet Mama and…….”

In the background, Penelope heard Prudence’s voice shout, “……….Mama! Why are you taking plates? Are you going to eat in the middle of ..........oh mama DON’T THROW PLATE ….outch….papa are you ok……oh no………”

The line went dead.

Penelope froze..

“I have to go,” she said, voice tight but steady. “Urgent family thing.”

Marina nodded. No questions asked.

Penelope looked at Colin. For a moment, she wanted to say something,but there wasn’t time. So instead, she offered a small smile. He returned it with a concerned glance.

Then she turned to Alice, stepped forward, and hugged her.

“You can do it,” she murmured into her ear.

Alice’s arms tightened around her in return. “You already did.”

Penelope pulled back, her gaze finally falling on William. For the first time, she allowed herself to feel the ache of what had happened to him. It wasn’t her fault but it didn’t mean she didn’t care.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Quietly. For him to hear.

The child reached up with a shy grin. Penelope knelt for a moment and brushed a hand over her hair.

“See you soon, alright?” she said.

The girl nodded, gripping her plush toy close.

With one final look at the car at the family inside, the friends at the front Penelope stepped back.

The engine rumbled to life. The headlights cut through the smoky air. And the car drove off, leaving Penelope standing alone under the blinking emergency lights… already dialing another number, already moving.

There was no rest for her. Not yet.

***

[Outside the Bridgton lodge]

chaos and comedy collided under the blinking emergency lights. Thanks to the fire alarm, every resident had poured out onto the lawn some panicked, others lounging around like it was just another Tuesday.

Suddenly, the lodge’s ancient public announcement system crackled to life with a long, wheezing hum. Brislmy, the ever-grumpy warden, spoke up in his usual flat drone.

“Attention please. We are checking what caused the fire alarm to ring. So, all are not permitted to go inside until the next announcement.”

Right on cue, Fife strolled up behind Brislmy, clapping a hand dramatically on his shoulder. Behind him were his loyal sidekicks, Albion Finch and Harry Dankworth.

“Hey,” Fife said, peering over Brislmy’s shoulder like an amused older sibling. “That’s what you said ten minutes ago.” Then, without missing a beat, he plucked Brislmy’s spectacles and popped them onto his own face. “Still no update, oldie?”

Brislmy made a grab for his glasses, scowling. “I already said, wait for a few minutes!”

But Fife was on a roll. He passed the spectacles to Harry just before Brislmy could snatch them back.

Harry, rubbing his stomach theatrically, whined, “Oh, but I’m starving. Where should we go? You just said we can’t go inside!”

Albion  smiled innocently. “Let’s go to the restaurant.”

Harry made a fake sad face and sighed. “But who’s paying?”

At that exact moment, Fife smoothly fished some cash out of Brislmy’s pocket. “Oh, oldie, you’re going to pay for us…” He began counting the notes. “Let’s see…”

“No…what? No!” Brislmy shouted, trying to reclaim the money. But before he could, Albion and Harry teamed up on him, tickling him like mischievous kids.

“Thank you, Warden!” they both chimed with wide grins.

Fife, now waving the stolen money in front of Brislmy like a trophy, grinned. “Did you want anything? It’s my treat.” He winked playfully while Albion chuckled beside him.

But just then, a high-pitched voice sliced through the air.

“Albion, come here!”

Cressida Cowper stood nearby, one hand on her hip and the other holding her phone. Albion perked up. “Oh, coming, darling!”

Before heading off, he nodded at Fife and Harry to go on ahead. They gave him thumbs up.

Albion trotted up to Cressida, who stood outside the lodge with full influencer energy. “What happened, darling?” he asked.

“Take one photo of me,” she said, handing him her phone like it was a royal scepter.

She posed dramatically near the building, adopting a terrified-yet-fashionable expression for the camera. Albion nearly burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny about it?” Cressida snapped, lowering her fake panic face.

“Nothing,” Albion said, straightening his expression as best he could.

She grabbed the phone from him and scrolled through the photos. “Which caption works better... ‘Fire Escape Fit’—”

“Or ‘Too Hot to Handle’?” Albion offered.

Her eyes lit up. “You naughty,” she said, giggling.

A few feet away, another trio of residents Michela, Philip, and Sophie stood watching the scene with their own brand of snark.

“If I lose Wi-Fi over this, someone’s paying for my therapy,” Michela deadpanned.

“Same,” Philip muttered. “I was on two percent battery.”

Sophie leaned in, whispering like she was sharing state secrets. “Do you think it’s Martha? [the famous ghost in the lodge]

“It’s not ghosts,” Michela groaned. “It’s gas. Or Cressida’s overpriced straightener finally combusting.”

The three of them burst out laughing, drawing a sharp turn of heads.

Cressida and Albion glared at them like royals scorned offended, unamused, and definitely plotting vengeance.

Finally, they hear so many car sounds outside.

Everyone went silent.

Suddenly, a black BMW zoomed into the driveway and stopped with a loud screech. Everyone turned.

The car door flew open, and out stepped Sinnea, dressed like she was attending a film premiere. Her makeup was perfect, hair flawless, and of course she was still filming herself live on Instagram.

Behind her, her tired lawyer stepped out, and the poor driver looked like he regretted every life choice that led him here.

Sinnea walked straight toward the lodge entrance like she owned the place. But two security guards immediately blocked her.

“Sorry, ma’am. No one’s allowed inside right now. There was a fire alarm,” one of them said.

“What?! I have proof! I came here to show everyone the truth! They can’t stop me from speaking!” sienna asked

Before the guard could answer, reporters and cameras rushed in behind her like bees to honey.

The Bridgton Lodge residents stared in total confusion.

“Wait… is that Sinnea?” Philip asked.

“Why is she here? Michela added.

Cressida, never one to miss the spotlight, suddenly gasped loudly and ran toward Sinnea, acting like she was in a soap opera.

“OH MY GOD, SINNEA! You came here for me?! You heard about the fire and wanted to check if I was okay?! That’s so sweet!” She hugged Sinnea tightly while smiling at the cameras.

Sinnea blinked in total confusion. “What fire?”

Sinnea’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?! I need to get inside! RIGHT NOW!”

Sinnea turned back to the security team, her voice rising. “You’re telling me I can’t go inside? I came here with important proof!”

“No one is allowed inside until we make sure the building is safe,” the guard repeated.

Sinnea froze. Inside, she was panicking. What about William?!

She looked around nervously, pretending to pose for the cameras but secretly searching the crowd.

No sign of William.

No sign of Cho either.

She quickly pulled out her phone and tried calling Cho.

No answer.

Her hand shook a little as she held the phone. She tried to keep her cool, but her eyes were darting everywhere.

She had no idea what was going on. The cameras were still rolling. People were watching.

She smiled but it was fake now. Behind that smile was full-blown panic.

***

Penelope arrived just in time to see a plate fly through the air and nearly hit her papa, Archie, who was ducking like he was in a war zone.

“Portia…..darling…., please!” he shouted, holding up a half-broken umbrella like a shield. “Let’s talk like adults!”

Portia stood at the doorway , holding another plate. “This is the last time, Archie Featherington! SIGN the divorce papers so that we can divorce in mutual agreement !”

“I will NEVER divorce you!” Archie declared proudly. “You are the love of my li…”

SMASH! The plate hit the wall near his head.

“Ouch!” he squeaked.

Prudence giggled from behind the curtains.

Portia turned sharply. “Prudence, wipe that smile off your face or I’ll aim better next time.”

Just then, Penelope made her presence known, “Papa, are you okay?”

Portia pointed at herself. “Oh, your papa is fine. But your mama hasn’t been okay since she married this man.”

Philippa whispered to her mother, “Mama, lower your voice. People are watching.”

Portia replied louder, “Let them watch! Your papa lives for attention.”

“Darling…” Archie began.

“DON’T ‘darling’ me!” Portia snapped. “I started suffering the day I said ‘I do.’ But nooo, I didn’t listen to my parents. I married a man who once left me at home and went on our honeymoon Trip ALONE.”

Archie looked hurt. “You said we should save money! I thought I was helping!”

Prudence laughed again. Portia didn’t even need to say anything her glare alone shut Prudence right up.

Portia took a deep breath and dramatically raised one eyebrow. “For the last time, Archie. Did. You. Sign. The. Divorce. Papers?”

Archie held his chest like a broken-hearted poet. “No. Think practically, my love. Our daughters are growing up. We must stay together… for them.”

Portia threw her hands in the air. “So I must stay married to you just because we have kids?!”

Archie’s face fell. “You don’t love me anymore?”

Suddenly, the whole mood changed. Penelope, Prudence, and Philippa looked at each other realizing this wasn’t just funny anymore.

Portia’s voice softened. “Do you know why I left you two years ago?”

Archie couldn’t meet her eyes.

She went on. “Before we even got married, my parents warned me. They said you were foolish, broke, and had no future. But I didn’t care. They asked me to choose between you and them. I chose you. Every time, I chose you.”

Prudence quietly moved next to her mother. Philippa held Portia’s hand.

“I stayed,” Portia said, her voice trembling now, “even when people laughed at you. Even when we had no money. Even when you tried one ridiculous business idea after another. Even when I wanted to scream.”

Archie looked like he might cry.

“But you always loved me. And I loved you too. We had no secrets. Just chaos. And love. And… chaos.”

She paused, took a breath, then said, “You, me, our girls… we are a family. Even if you drive me absolutely insane.”

Portia had just poured her heart out, her voice shaky but strong:

Archie looked hopeful like maybe, just maybe, he’d survive the evening in one piece.

But then Portia’s expression changed.

“Then what happened, Archie?” she said sharply, her voice tightening. “That one day… when you weren’t home, and one of the many people we owed money to came to our house and tried to attack us?”

Philippa made a small sound, remembering the chaos. Prudence muttered, “That was the day I pretended to faint…”

Portia ignored them.

“The next day,” she continued, “you beat them up and paid off all our debts. In one day. I asked you where you got the money from. And you said… nothing. Not even a lie.”

Archie opened his mouth. “Darling…”

“No,” she snapped. “I’m a fool to you.”

“No, darling, never!”

“I haven’t slept properly since that day,” Portia said, her voice rising again. “…..Is he kill someone to make money?..... Sell his kidney? Join a secret club of millionaire criminals? ….I’m your wife, Archie Featherington . I need to know. You paid off all our debts in one day. That’s not just a miracle, it’s suspicious and  I’m your wife, the woman you supposedly love, and you never told me. Not even a lie to make me feel better.”

“I didn’t want to lie to you,” Archie said gently.

“No,” she snapped. “It’s not about lying. It’s about trust. You didn’t trust me enough to share the truth. You didn’t respect me enough to let me in.”

Archie stepped forward. “You’re the one I respect most in the world.”

Portia wiped her tears with the edge of her sleeve. “Then tell me. Tell me where you got that money. And I’ll forget about the divorce. I’ll come with you.”

Silence.

Archie looked at her.

Then he nodded.

“Okay,” he said.

Everyone froze.

Penelope’s eyes widened. Philippa dropped one of the plate she take from portia . And Prudence of all people was the first to speak.

“Wait… what? Mama, what are you saying? Papa’s never told anyone where that money came fr—” She stopped mid-sentence. Her jaw dropped. “Wait… he said okay. HE SAID OKAY?!”

For two years, the mystery had been whispered through every Featherington gathering and gossip circle: How did Archie Featherington get that much money in one day? A man who once tried to invest in glow-in-the-dark potatoes?

The Featherington girls nosy, dramatic, and slightly too curious for their own good had tried everything. Hacking into old mail, following Archie around,Nothing worked.

And now, just like that… he said okay.

All three daughters said at once, in perfect unplanned harmony:

“Okkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!”

Archie smiled like a magician about to reveal his final trick. “Yes. I’ll tell you. But only if we agree no more divorce. And Portia comes with me.”

Portia blinked. Still stunned. Still processing.

Philippa leaned toward her mother. “Mama… if you gave this speech two years ago, we wouldn’t have needed two houses.”

Portia whispered back, “I still don’t believe he’s actually going to tell us.”

Prudence, bouncing slightly, turned to Archie. “Papa, are you really going to tell us?”

Archie winked at her. “Yes. But first…”

He turned dramatically.

“Come with me,” he said, pointing toward the car like they were in a spy movie.

Portia raised an eyebrow. “First you tell me, then we’ll decide whether I come with you or not.”

Archie grinned. “No no. Come with me, and I’ll show you where I got the money.”

Portia looked at her daughters for backup.

“Penelope Featherington,” she said, “do you have any idea what your papa is talking about?”

Penelope glanced at Archie, who was giving her a strange, excited look like he had been waiting for this moment for years. She turned back to her mother.

“No clue,” she said. “But suddenly, I’m very curious.”

“Me too,” Prudence chimed in excitedly.

“Me three,” Philippa added.

Then Portia  looked at Archie again. “Alright, alright…”

“Okay. I’ll come with you.”

***

All the Bridgton Broadcasting staff and the Bridgerton’s stood assembled outside the towering building, the usual calm of the premises replaced with chaos and confusion. Cameramen scrambled to capture every angle. Reporters whispered into their mics. The tension in the air could be sliced with a knife.

Kate leaned toward Benedict, her brows furrowed, eyes never leaving Anthony, who was speaking urgently to a cameraman.

She nodded toward him and muttered, “He said…” her voice barely above a whisper pointing to Anthony. “He said that he had a proof. And all of a sudden, we’re all outside the building looking at the gate... What the shit is happening?”

Benedict, equally puzzled, replied calmly, “I also have no idea. I only know he is waiting for Colin to come.”

Before they could say anything more, Anthony’s voice rang out loud and sharp, commanding everyone's attention.

“Here they are!”

Gasps erupted. Every head turned toward the main gate just as a sleek black Audi rolled through, its engine humming softly. The moment felt surreal like the opening of a scene everyone had been waiting for, without knowing what to expect.

The crowd went silent.

The car came to a slow stop.

Then, the driver’s door opened  and Colin stepped out. His expression was focused, serious. He walked around to the trunk, opened it swiftly, and pulled out a folded wheelchair.

Marina stepped out from the passenger side, her face visibly shocked as she took in the crowd, the cameras, the intensity of it all. She hadn’t expected this.

Together, Colin and Marina gently brought William out of the car and placed him into the wheelchair. A collective wave of shock rippled through everyone present.

William Mondrich looked fragile, weak  nothing like the man they remembered. He was pale, tired, and sunken-eyed.

Daphne and Eloise exchanged a horrified glance.

Benedict whispered, “Oh my God.”

Kate, still processing what she was seeing, asked quickly, “What happened to him?” Her eyes were wide with disbelief.

Anthony stood still for a moment. Silent. Taking it all in.

Then, suddenly, he turned to the cameraman and ordered, “Follow him.”

He moved toward William and took control of the wheelchair from Colin. Without waiting, he began wheeling William toward the crowd. Marina followed, holding William’s child in her arms, her expression unreadable.

Meanwhile, Colin turned back to the car.

Someone was still inside.

He looked in through the open door and asked gently, “Hey, don’t you… not coming?”

Inside, Alice sat frozen. Her mind was far away not in that moment, but replaying what Penelope had told her just hours earlier.

FLASHBACK.

Alice, pacing with nervous energy, asked Penelope in a panicked voice, “If I go there… if I tell the truth… it’s also against Anthony. Sienna is not the only one who’ll get accused. That will affect Anthony. So, I don’t think taking us to the broadcasting is good. I think going to the police station is a better idea.”

Penelope paused, thinking carefully.

“If we go to the police station, tell what really happened  nothing’s going to change. The Bridgertons are the most influential people in society. They can easily influence the police and change the statement according to their favour.”

Alice looked at her, silently absorbing it.

Penelope continued with conviction, “If we go to the Bridgton Broadcasting Station  you give the statement live, not pre-recorded. So if you tell the truth live, whether it’s against them or not  they cannot cut the live in the middle, because people are watching.”

She stepped closer, her voice lowering.

“You and I both know, whatever happened Anthony Bridgerton can easily escape from the case. But if you say what you want to say in public, in the live people start to realize the ones they idolize aren’t that perfect. It’s like a wake-up call. To the Bridgertons. To everyone. Who knows how many people like William have been affected because of them.”

Penelope paused. Her final words hit like a hammer.

“You know… it’s time for the Bridgertons to change.”

BACK TO PRESENT.

Alice looked up at Colin, her heart racing. Her decision had already been made.

She gave a slow nod.

“Yes,” she said softly, stepping out of the car. “I’m coming.”

***

All the Featheringtons stood gathered outside the Featherington house, staring at the closed front door where Archie and Penelope now lived.

“Okay… what’s now?” Prudence asked, arms folded.

Archie shifted nervously, his voice uncertain. “Oh… get in.”

But before anyone could move, Portia raised her hand. “No. First, you tell us how you got the money.  Then  we’ll enter.”

“Darling….” Archie began, but Philippa interrupted sharply.

“Oh, you guys forgot to switch off the TV. I can hear it.”

“No,” Penelope replied immediately.

“Yay, I can hear it too,” Prudence chimed in.

Archie let out a laugh that was far too rushed to be genuine. “Oh… then I must’ve forgotten to switch it off. I’ll go and check.” He turned quickly, his steps a little too fast.

Penelope narrowed her eyes. Suspicion prickled at the back of her neck. Her papa hadn’t been home for three months. She was the one who locked the house the last time and she always made sure everything was turned off before she did. Every light, every fan, every switch. Something wasn’t right.

She looked at her mother and sisters. “Do you want to come in?”

“Yep,” Philippa started, but Portia cut her off.

“I already told you, Penelope Featherington. We three are not stepping foot inside that house until I find out where Archie Featherington got the money. You can go, because two years ago you chose to stay with your papa, not your mama.”

Penelope, unfazed, shot back, “Mama, Prudence and Philippa are with you. Someone has to be with Papa, right?”

“Mama, I think Papa’s wasting our time. Let’s go,” Prudence said with a sigh.

Penelope quickly stepped in front of them, blocking their path. “No, no, no you guys wait here. I’ll go and bring him back.”

She entered the house alone.

The sound of the TV echoed through the hallway. Penelope frowned. “Why is it taking him so long just to switch it off?”she wondered.

She reached the living room and stopped.

Archie stood near the TV, frozen mid-motion, trying to turn it off. But someone else was there too. A man, standing directly between Archie and the screen.

“I said come with me  Portia is here and she says …… ” Archie was saying.

“No. I want to hear the news…” the mysterious man said, unmoved.

Penelope’s voice cut through the room. “Excuse me… who are you?”

Both men turned toward her, startled like statues caught mid-breath.

Penelope’s eyes moved past them, toward the television.

It was the Bridgton News Channel. The headline blared:

**“WILLIAM IS BACK.”**

Kate Sharma was reporting live. “Alice, William’s wife, confessed the truth to the media,” she said. “Sinnea kidnapped William and his family with the help of Anthony Bridgton. Alice also added that William holds the proof Sinnea was the one behind the hit-and-run case. Now Sinnea and Anthony Bridgton along with William and family in the Police custody.Anthony Bridgton has, on the spot, denied all allegations against him.”

A video clip played, showing Anthony Bridgton himself:

“I did all this because Sinnea blackmailed me. If I didn’t help her, she said she’d tell the public I was abusing her and she threatened my reputation, my position in society.”

The clip ended, and Kate continued.

“#SinneaGoldDigger and #FullSupportAnthonyBridgton are now trending across social media. Despite Alice’s statement, the Bridgtons have agreed to take full responsibility for the damage caused to William’s family. Anthony Bridgton also announced financial support for William’s health and that the Bridgtons will sponsor the education of William’s children from now on.”

Penelope stared at the screen. “Of course, this is the Bridgton News Channel. You have to support Anthony. And no further mention of the drug thing…”

She turned her eyes away from the screen and looked at her father and the man beside him.

They hadn’t moved. Both of them stared at her like ghosts.

Penelope gave a nervous little smile. “Oh… who are you?”

Then her smile faded. Her eyes widened.

“Oh my god…”

She looked at the mysterious man. Then at her papa. Then back at the man.

Her hand lifted, pointing a trembling finger.

“EDMUND BRIDGTON…..…”