Chapter five

Evelyn’s POV

The morning light filtered through the expensive silk curtains of our master bedroom, casting soft patterns across the king-sized bed. I sat at my vanity, carefully applying makeup like I did every morning—concealer to hide the shadows under my eyes, a touch of blush to fake that healthy glow everyone complimented. Marcus was already downstairs, probably on his second cup of coffee, scrolling through emails on his laptop. The perfect image of a successful husband. But last night’s anonymous message kept replaying in my head.

’Ask your husband where he was… Ask your sister why she smelled like him. I deleted it, but the words clung to me like smoke.’

I finished my lipstick and stared at my reflection. Thirty-four years old, married for eight of them, and still playing the role of the flawless eldest sister. The one who held everything together. The one who smiled through the quiet dinners where Marcus and I barely spoke. The one who convinced our parents that everything was wonderful. Downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee greeted me. Marcus looked up from the kitchen island, offering that practiced smile. 

     “Morning, beautiful. Sleep well?”

    “Not really,” I admitted, pouring myself a cup.

 I studied him—his strong jaw, the slight stubble he hadn’t shaved yet, the way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. Once upon a time, that sight made my heart race. Now it mostly made me wonder when we stopped touching each other like we meant it. He came up behind me, hands resting lightly on my hips. 

     “You’ve been tense lately. Work stress?”

His breath brushed my neck. I turned in his arms, searching his face for any sign of guilt. 

      “It’s not just work. Marcus… is everything okay between us? Really okay?”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Regret? Fear? It vanished before I could name it. He pulled me closer, kissing me softly at first, then deeper. His hands slid down to cup my ass, pressing me against him. I felt him harden through his pants.

      “We’re fine,” he murmured against my lips. “Let me show you.”

He lifted me onto the kitchen counter, dishes clattering aside. My robe fell open as he pushed it off my shoulders. His mouth trailed down my neck to my breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth while his fingers dipped between my legs. I was already wet—body responding even as my mind screamed questions.

      “Marcus…” I gasped as he slid two fingers inside me, curling them just right.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he freed himself from his pants and thrust into me in one smooth motion. I cried out, gripping his shoulders as he filled me completely. He fucked me hard and fast right there on the counter, the sound of our bodies meeting echoing in the quiet kitchen. My legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back.

     “You feel so good,” he groaned, pounding deeper. 

One hand tangled in my hair, the other rubbing my clit in tight circles. Pleasure built fast, sharp and desperate. I came with a shuddering moan, clenching around him. He followed seconds later, burying himself deep and releasing inside me with a low growl. We stayed like that for a minute, breathing hard. He kissed my forehead before pulling out, helping me down. Cum trickled down my thigh as I fixed my robe.

      “See?” he said with a wink. “We’re more than okay.”

But as he went back to his coffee like nothing happened, the emptiness returned. The sex was good—raw, even—but it felt like a performance. A bandage over something broken. My phone buzzed on the counter. A message from Claire: 

Brunch at Mom’s today? Lila’s coming too.

I typed back quickly. Wouldn’t miss it.

Marcus glanced over. “Family thing?”

“Yeah. You’re welcome to join.”

He shook his head. “Have a big meeting. Tell your sisters I said hi.”

The way he said “sisters” sent a chill through me. I watched him grab his keys and leave, the front door clicking shut behind him. Alone in the house, I cleaned up the kitchen, my mind racing. The sex should have reassured me. It didn’t. If anything, it made the doubts louder. Why did Claire’s name keep coming up in my thoughts? Why did Marcus’s touch feel familiar in all the wrong ways lately? 

I drove to Mom’s house later that afternoon, the suburban streets blurring past. When I arrived, Claire was already there, helping Mom set the table. Lila showed up twenty minutes late, looking tired but beautiful in a simple sundress. She hugged me tight, but her eyes darted away too quickly. Lunch was the usual—Mom asking about grandkids, Dad talking politics, us sisters laughing on the surface. But underneath, tension hummed. Claire avoided looking at me directly. Lila picked at her food. And I couldn’t stop replaying that message in my head. After dessert, I pulled Claire aside in the backyard while Mom and Lila chatted inside.

     “Be honest with me,” I said quietly. “Is there something going on I should know about?”

Claire’s face paled slightly. “What do you mean?”

    “You and Marcus. The way you two have been acting. If there’s anything—”

Before she could answer, Lila stepped out onto the patio, her expression strange.

     “Guys… I met someone,” Lila said softly, a small, nervous smile tugging at her lips. “I have a new boyfriend. That’s all I can say right now.”

The words hung in the air between us. Claire and I exchanged a quick glance, both of us stunned into silence by the unexpected confession from our usually private little sister.