I’m sure he’s no more cold and distant by virtue of being dead.

I worry you are your father’s daughters.

TAI

At the entrance of the Daddy Warbucks–y gated community that is Mitella, people filter through a security greenhouse plucked out of a science fiction movie. From the outside, it looks like a lodge made of wood. Inside, the ceiling is made of glass, and we walk under boughs of almond trees, their branches heavy with pink and white starburst blossoms. The sky looks blanketed in twee popcorn.

“Almond blossom season is over, but the community created its own microclimate for the security courtyard so these specially bred trees could bloom multiple times a year,” Teddy explains, waving at one of five doormen-slash–security people by the frosted glass door where we’re expected to furnish ID.

“For real?” I whisper to Nons. She shrugs and says out loud, “Is that even possible? From a … botanical perspective?”

“Well, when that fails,” Teddy whispers conspiratorially, as we follow him toward a waiting security guard, “I’m pretty sure they just tie blooming branches from other parts of the world to their trees.”

I just barely swallow down an incredulous laugh. My bones have been like Jell-O ever since I learned about the fresh copy of White Fox, waiting at Teddy’s mansion. Nons and I all but scarfed down our meals so we could run straight there. Four parts.

The guard huddles us around a retinal scanner, and we both take a turn squinching our eyeballs into the correct position. After he’s done, we’re escorted through to the secure side of the greenhouse, where his car awaits to continue the drive.

It winds us past epic mansion after mansion, unlike our place in that they are totally unspoiled and new-looking—even the older castles, draped in ivy, look like they were just unboxed. The streets gleam, speckled with silver like fancy sidewalks. My skin itches when we pass the Arnoix compound, its ornate gate draped with honeysuckle. I recognize it from tabloids—Linos has never had me over.

And next door is Teddy’s house, tucked behind an unassuming entrance gate that looks like it’s meant for Seattle: hypermodern, clean lines, lots of glass and steel. The car parks, and we’re led through a small steel door set into a giant concrete slab.