Diane's POV
The evening shadows had crept into Joan's living room by the time I hung up the phone with Andrew. Outside, the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a warm glow against the darkening sky. Joan busied herself with clearing our research materials from the coffee table while I sat in contemplative silence, trying to process the conversation.
"That was... unexpected," I finally said, my hand absently stroking my belly.
Joan glanced up from her organizing. "Which part? The Elite Group connection or the bodyguards?"
"Both," I admitted. "I've spent so long keeping Andrew at arm's length. Accepting his help feels like... I don't know. Like opening a door I've tried hard to keep closed."
Joan set down the stack of papers she'd been gathering and settled onto the couch beside me. "You're not selling your soul, Diane. You're using available resources to protect yourself and secure your future. There's no shame in that."
