"She's a dirty liar," Reine said as she stomped out of Bruges City Hall, repeating the phrase she'd been saying since the trial ended. "Max couldn't have killed Gabe. I just don't believe it."

"Of course Syl's lying, darling. That witch would do anything to save her own skin." Morgan walked at her side and patted her shoulder.

Reine abruptly stopped, nearly making Noor bump into her from behind. "Then why did the Council let her go?" she asked.

Taking her hand, Morgan looked unusually solemn. "Because her accusations were enough to place a seed of doubt about her guilt. And since Max wasn't here to provide a rebuttal, they had to drop the charges."

"But where was he? Why didn't he come back?" Reine wondered as she leaned into the girl's shoulder and began to sob.

"Have you been able to reach him?" Morgan addressed Mal who was doing his best to both be in the vicinity, but also to not be too close to the emotional scene.

He pulled out his phone and checked the screen. "No, not yet. He's not picking up. It's going straight to voicemail, but hasn't returned my calls. I did speak to the airport, and the jet definitely hasn't returned to Ostende," he said.

Reine looked up, tears streaming down her face. "All of the Council members were here. So he obviously lied about where he was going."

"I'm sure he had a good reason, love. He always does." Morgan gave her a weak smile.

Reine couldn't do the same. No matter how hard she tried to suppress it, a feeling of doubt continued to nag at her. She had too many unresolved questions, and Max's sudden disappearance added to her fears about his complicity.

The uncertainty must have also shown on her face because Morgan continued to reassure her. "Let me go and find some answers. You just get back to London, and let me worry about this."

Reine squeezed the girl tightly around the shoulders before withdrawing. The redhead looked almost ready to leave when she whipped her head around. "Oh, bugger! With all this insanity, I almost forgot that congratulations are in order. They are in order, right? Because I don't recall ya correcting Sylvana on that particular bombshell."

"What? What else did she say?" Noor asked as she stepped closer, her eyes wide with anticipation.

Morgan politely moved aside, while Mal rolled his eyes. "Oh, this should be good."

Ignoring his cynicism, Reine wiped her tear-drenched face with her hands. Although she'd known for hours what she wanted to say to her best friend, she was still afraid of how Noor would take her revelation. Trying to ease into the uncomfortable conversation, she decided to work backwards.

"I want you to come live with me."

"What?" Noor and Mal simultaneously uttered the single, yet powerful syllable.

"Come with me back to London. We can finally be roommates like you've always wanted," Reine continued, looking the girl straight in her chocolate brown eyes.

Noor bit her lip in hesitation and glanced at her fiancée. Mal would be the only one capable of derailing the request, so Reine plowed on using a trusted tactic: guilt.

"I need you, sweetie. Please. Just for a few months . . . until the baby's born."

The girl's shapely brows slowly furrowed under her designer headscarf until the meaning of the words sank in.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" She bounced up and down, clapping her hands together with excitement.

It was the best reaction Reine could expect, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The lull fleeted when Noor calmed down and reached across to touch her stomach.

"Wow! This top totally hides your bump," she observed. "But how can you be pregnant? Isn't that impossible?"

Reine pinched the bridge of her nose; she could feel a headache coming on. "I really don't know and honestly, right now that's pretty much on the bottom of my 'things to get answers to' list."

Noor withdrew her hand, making Reine aware of the harshness in her response. "Even the Council didn't make a big deal out of it though, so maybe it's not as impossible as we think." She forced a smile.

"Or it was one more thing they suspect Sylvana of lying about," Morgan chimed in.

Reine turned around. "You know, I didn't even think of that. Not that it's their business either way."

"Damn right." Mal made the unexpected declaration.

Hiding her surprise at his agreement, Reine faced her friend again and continued the convincing. "I know a curator at the British Museum who's been trying to get me to go work with him ever since I got to England. I'm sure I can get him to find you an internship. The experience will look great on your resume. Either way, I'd be eternally grateful if you temporarily moved in with me. It's just for the next six months. He'd be all yours by Christmas." She smiled toward the young man Noor still had her eyes on.

Her friend's expression became even more uncertain. Letting go of Reine's hand, Noor walked toward her equally morose looking fiancée. "What do you think?"

Mal removed his hands from the pockets of his impeccably tailored suit and placed them on Noor's shoulders. He towered over her, his body casting a shadow over her face. "Well, depending on how long the Captain extends his leave, I may be busy with the Brotherhood longer than we expected. We're shorthanded as it is, so both the company and private matters need my attention." He paused briefly before touching the girl's cheek with one hand. "Maybe it is a good idea for you to stick around. I mean, we're going to visit your folks in Switzerland in a couple of weeks anyway, so I'll see you then."

Reine was floored. It was the most she'd ever heard Mal say in a single instance, and not only was he speaking in an unusually gentle and caring tone, but he was also - for the first time ever - on her side.

Unsurprisingly, Noor was sold by his reasoning. After an emotional farewell - more on her side than Mal's - the two young women headed towards the nearest Chunnel train back to England.

It was late night by the time the black cab dropped them off in front of Reine's Kensington flat. Exhausted, it was only after she'd opened the door and turned on the hallway light that she saw a small, white envelope tucked underneath the knocker. It was labeled plainly with the initials R.B. in fancy, handwritten script.

Hoping it may be a message from Max, Reine tore open the note on the spot. Scanning the brief lines written in the same flowery lettering, she soon realized it was about something completely different.

Miss Baldovini!

I trust that you've comfortably settled into our lovely city over the last few months.

I would welcome the opportunity to become reacquainted at the earliest.

You can find me on Wednesday for afternoon tea at the Savoy.

Yours,

Emery Wescott.