Chapter Text
Chloe Charming had never been anywhere that felt unfinished before.
Her parents’ house had always been immaculate, every room intentional, every surface softened by light and careful choice. Even messes there had purpose—projects paused, not abandoned. This place was different. Large, certainly. Beautiful, even. But everything about it felt paused mid-breath, like the house itself was waiting for permission to continue.
She stood just inside the entryway, fingers curled tight around the strap of her bag, blinking once as she took it in.
“Shoes are fine,” a bright voice chirped, startling her.
A girl with pink hair—pink hair that somehow looked effortless rather than theatrical—beamed at her from the hall, already moving closer. She was smiling too wide, like she’d practiced it, but it didn’t feel fake. If anything, it felt protective.
“You must be Chloe! I’m Pink. You’re right on time. That’s so reassuring, honestly. Some people say they’ll be on time and then they just… aren’t.” She laughed at her own joke, reaching for Chloe’s bag without waiting. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
“Oh—thank you,” Chloe said quickly, flustered, following her. “This place is… wow.”
Pink glanced back at her, grin softening. “Yeah. It’s a lot. You get used to it. Or you don’t. Either way, you’ll learn where the good light is.”
They passed wide doorways, a lift tucked discreetly beside the stairs, furniture arranged with careful precision. Everything had space around it—too much space, Chloe thought, like the rooms were afraid of crowding whoever lived here.
Pink gestured as they walked, narrating in a cheerful stream. “Kitchen’s fully accessible, obviously. Red hates when people call it that, by the way—accessible. She says it makes it sound like a museum exhibit. So just… don’t. Dad’s office is off-limits unless invited. Mom will probably hover but she means well. She always does.”
Chloe nodded along, absorbing it all, her chest buzzing with nerves and something like purpose. This was exactly what she’d wanted. Something that mattered. Something real.
They stopped near a glass wall that looked out over a long patio and beyond it, distant hills dusted faintly with snow.
Pink’s voice gentled. “She’s out there.”
Chloe straightened instinctively. “Okay.”
Pink hesitated, just for a fraction of a second. Then, still smiling, she added, “She’s… not big on first impressions. Or second. Or people in general. But she’s not cruel. She just doesn’t like surprises.”
“I can handle that,” Chloe said quickly, too quickly. “I just want to help.”
Pink studied her for a beat, then nodded. “Yeah. I think you do.”
They stepped outside together.
Red of Hearts sat near the railing, angled toward the hills rather than the house, a blanket folded neatly across her lap. Her chair was sleek, unmistakably custom, positioned with deliberate care. She didn’t turn when they approached. She didn’t have to.
“You’re late,” Red said.
Chloe froze. “I— I’m sorry, I thought—”
“She’s not,” Pink said easily. “She’s exactly on time. I checked.”
Red huffed. “Then she walks slowly.”
Chloe flushed, mortified, adjusting her grip on her bag. “I’m Chloe Charming. I’m— I’m very sorry if I’m in the way. I can—”
“You’re not staying.”
The words landed flat. Not sharp. Not angry. Just final.
Chloe stared at her, genuinely stunned. Her mouth opened, then closed again. “I— I was told this was a trial period,” she said, confusion bleeding through her voice. “If this isn’t a good time, I can talk to my parents or— or we can reschedule—”
Pink cleared her throat lightly. “Red.”
Red turned then, finally, eyes sharp and assessing, skimming Chloe from head to toe. There was no cruelty in her gaze. Just distance.
“You won’t last,” Red said. “They never do.”
Chloe swallowed. She didn’t argue. She didn’t bristle. She just looked… hurt.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t realize I was replacing anyone.”
“You are,” Red replied. “Temporarily.”
Something about that word settled into Chloe’s chest. Temporary. She nodded, steadying herself. “That’s okay,” she said. “I’m not here to replace anyone. I just— I thought I could help.”
Red’s eyes flicked away, back to the hills.
Pink exhaled, clapping her hands once, too bright. “Okay! Tour complete, introductions complete, emotional devastation postponed. Chloe, why don’t you get settled? Red, Mom wants to check in later.”
“I’m fine,” Red said automatically.
Pink smiled wider. “I know.”
As Pink guided Chloe back inside, Chloe glanced over her shoulder one last time, watching snow drift lazily through the air beyond the patio. Red didn’t look back.
-Flashback-
The mountain had been quiet that morning. Not empty—just hushed, like the world was holding its breath.
Red loved mornings like that. Early runs. Clean lines. The kind of cold that bit at your lungs and made you feel awake in a way nothing else could. She adjusted her gloves at the top of the slope, board angled just right, heart steady. She’d done harder runs than this. Faster. Riskier.
She wasn’t reckless.
She pushed off.
The first stretch was perfect. Powder smooth, edges catching cleanly. She carved with confidence, body moving from memory rather than thought. Wind tore at her jacket. She laughed, loud and uncontained, the sound ripped away almost instantly.
She never saw the other rider until it was too late.
A blur. A shout. Impact.
Her board caught wrong. The world tilted violently. She hit hard—harder than she ever had before—and then everything stopped making sense. Cold burned. Pain flared and vanished and returned in waves she couldn’t place.
She lay there, staring up at the pale sky, snow settling against her lashes.
She tried to move.
Nothing happened.
Not panic—not yet. Just disbelief. Her brain sent the signal again, sharper this time.
Move.
Still nothing.
That was when the fear came. Not loud. Not screaming.
Quiet.
Absolute.
Back in the house, Chloe unpacked her bag slowly, hands trembling just enough that she had to stop and press them flat against the bedspread. She took a deep breath, then another.
She could do this.
She didn’t need Red to like her. She just needed to be useful. Kind. Present.
Temporary, she reminded herself.
She had no idea yet how much that word would cost her