St. Louis, 1927.

You stood by the orphanage window, watching as she slipped away into the night with her brother. You couldn’t blame her; who would want to be away from family and left behind in a place like this—a religious orphanage and strict rules?

That was where you met Serafine. She was your closest friend. You even helped her try to reunite with her brother once before, but the plan failed, landing both of you in trouble with the nuns.

Now she was gone, free with him at last. Before she left, she had offered you to come with them. You declined.

Now here you were, working under the Marigold. Asa Sweet had recruited you into the fold. It was there when you saw her again. Serafine. She was working for the same gang now, alongside her brother. You picked up where you’d left off—catching up, sharing stories of what had happened since the orphanage.

Somewhere between those moments, something had sparked between you. A fling, maybe. But neither of you would dare call it more. Then, the news came. You were marrying someone. It caught Serafine off guard, and when she heard, she laughed at Nico.

"Marrying?" she teased. "Her? Marrying some gars? Makes sense, though. After all, cher grew up in that orphanage, din’t she?" She looked at her brother with that wry, mischievous grin. "Maitre Careefour knows wha’s deep inside ‘er heart."

Agitated. You woke up as the remnants of the dream clung to you. Serafine. After that conversation, her words echoed in your mind: “I’m tellin’ ya so.”

You grabbed your coat and hurried out of your suite. The hotel—this same hotel—was where you and Serafine had spent so many late hours together, talking, laughing, and avoiding the truth. Now, it felt suffocating, like a ghost from the past you couldn’t outrun.

You didn’t even know where you were going. You just needed space, needed to breathe. Until a voice sliced through the silence, unmistakable and too familiar.

“I tol’ ya so.” There, standing in the shadows, was Serafine.