ELISHA’S POV
Leaving Sylvester’s study felt like stepping out of warmth and into cold. Not because of the air, or the space. Just… the shift.
Anthony had been there. Watching. Waiting. Even when he didn’t speak, his presence took up too much space in a room.
These days, being near him made it hard to breathe.
I walked slowly down the corridor, heels clicking softly against the stone floors, one hand brushing the banister as I passed by the tall windows. The sounds of the party floated up from downstairs—laughter, clinking glasses, music, footsteps shuffling between polished floors and soft rugs.
I paused at the top of the grand staircase, unsure for a moment.
Why hadn’t I told Sylvester about the divorce?
The answer was simple. He didn’t deserve that kind of pain. He was eighty. His heart was delicate. If he knew his grandson and the woman he’d come to see as a granddaughter were splitting up, it would crush him.
So I played the part. The loving wife. The gracious daughter-in-law.
J
