Chapter eight

Evelyn’s POV

The afternoon sun streamed through the large windows of my living room, highlighting the perfectly arranged furniture and fresh flowers on the coffee table. Everything looked immaculate, just like my life was supposed to be. I sat on the couch with a cup of tea gone cold, replaying the image of Claire slipping out the side exit of the country club last night. I had followed my instincts and driven there after she left brunch early. What I saw only deepened the knot in my stomach. Marcus had been distant again this morning, leaving for “work” with little more than a quick kiss on my cheek. No repeat of yesterday’s heated kitchen encounter. Just polite distance. The kind that had become our normal.

I picked up my phone and scrolled through old photos—happy family pictures from vacations, holidays, the three of us sisters smiling together. Lila looked so young and carefree in them. Yesterday at brunch, she had mentioned a new boyfriend. Something about the way she said it felt off, like she was testing the waters but holding back a flood.

A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. Claire stood on the porch when I opened it, looking slightly unkempt in jeans and a loose blouse, her hair pulled back messily.

     “Hey, I was in the neighborhood,” she said, offering a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Thought we could talk. Just us.”

I stepped aside to let her in, my pulse quickening. 

      “Of course. Is everything okay?”

We settled in the living room. Claire fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, avoiding my gaze at first.

      “I’ve been thinking about what you asked at Mom’s. About me and Marcus. There’s nothing going on, Evelyn. I swear.”

Her words came out too quickly. Too rehearsed. I studied her face—the same eyes we all shared, but hers held shadows I couldn’t quite read.

     “Then why do I keep feeling like I’m missing something?” I asked quietly. “The way you two look at each other sometimes. The way you disappeared at the party. And last night… I saw you leaving the club.”

Claire’s face paled. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. For a second, I thought she might confess something. Instead, she reached over and took my hand.

     “You’re under a lot of stress with work and everything. Marcus loves you. We all do. Don’t let paranoia ruin that.”

Her touch was warm, sisterly. But it felt tainted somehow. I wanted to believe her. I needed to believe her. Yet the anonymous message, the cologne on her skin at the party, the way Marcus had fucked me so urgently yesterday like he was proving a point—it all swirled together into a storm I couldn’t ignore. We talked for nearly an hour about safe topics—Mom’s garden, Lila’s mysterious new boyfriend, upcoming family dinners. Claire laughed at the right moments, but her eyes kept drifting to the family photos on the mantel, lingering on one of the three of us as teenagers. Before she left, she hugged me tightly. 

     “We’re sisters. We stick together no matter what, right?”

      “Right,” I whispered back, but the word felt hollow.

After she drove away, I went upstairs to our bedroom and opened Marcus’s nightstand drawer. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for—receipts, notes, anything. My fingers brushed against an old hotel key card from months ago. The date matched a weekend he said he was on a business trip. My chest tightened. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the key card until my vision blurred. Was I losing my mind, or was my perfect marriage—and my perfect family—slowly disintegrating right in front of me?

Later that evening, Marcus came home carrying takeout. He set the bags on the table and pulled me into a kiss that lingered longer than usual.

     “Missed you today,” he murmured.

I kissed him back, searching for the passion we once had. But even as his hands roamed down my body, lifting my dress, all I could think about was Claire’s face when I mentioned the club. We made love that night—slow and intense on our bed. He moved inside me with deep, possessive strokes, whispering how much he needed me. I came with his name on my lips, but the pleasure felt hollow, overshadowed by doubt. As he fell asleep beside me, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. Across town, Lila was probably with her new boyfriend, and Claire… I didn’t even want to imagine where Claire was or who she was with. The threads holding us together were cutting faster than I could mend them. And I was terrified of what would happen when they finally snapped.