Chapter Forty-Seven: A Lie

Evelyn stood barefoot in the kitchen, the tiles cool under her toes as she whisked eggs in a bowl that felt too heavy for what it was. Morning sunlight spilled through the window — gentle, soft, almost mocking. A peaceful morning shouldn’t feel like holding her breath.

But for three days, the house hadn’t been hers alone.

Ethan’s presence crept into every corner. Every silence. Every memory she’d buried.

She focused on the tiny details — the sizzle of butter melting in the pan, the smell of toast browning, the clink of plates. Anything to keep her mind from racing.

Behind her, footsteps padded into the kitchen. Slow. Confident. Liam King always moved like he had the world in his hands — even in sweatpants and a black T-shirt, hair still damp from the shower, tie draped lazily around his neck.

“Morning,” he said, voice low and rough — the kind of voice that lived in her bones.

She didn’t trust her own voice, so she nodded, flipping the eggs.

Liam leaned against the counter, watching he