My heart pounded so violently I thought my ribs might splinter. I wanted to scream, to expose her, to claw back the pieces of myself she had stolen. But no sound came. I managed only a brittle smile before lowering my eyes.
When brunch ended, Matthew stepped away to take a call. Claire accompanied me to the door, her heels clicking like punctuation on marble.
“Evelyn,” she said softly, leaning close. “You really should take better care of yourself. People are starting to talk.”
Her perfume enveloped me—the same scent I once borrowed for my first date. Now it choked me.
“I’ll keep an eye on Matthew for you,” she added, her tone silk over steel. “That’s what best friends are for.”
Ice flooded my veins. She kissed my cheek and glided back into the room, radiant and victorious.
I stood frozen in the doorway, powerless.
And yet—beneath the shame, beneath the ache—something darker took root. A seed of resolve, small but unyielding.
The laughter from downstairs still clung to me when I found Claire waiting in the upstairs hall. She lounged against a guest room doorframe, champagne glass in hand, as if the house were hers.
“You really don’t see it, do you?” she asked, her smile edged with pity.