MasukEvelyn’s POV By the time we got home, the house felt too big and quiet. It hadn’t caught up yet to what had happened, to the fact that a man had tried to carve me open an hour ago while screaming my name. The police cars were already there when we pulled up, parked along the curb with their lights off but engines ticking over. Two officers stepped out before my driver even cut the ignition. Clara pressed into my side the second she saw them, her fingers hooking into my sleeve hard enough to pull the fabric. Inside, it started immediately. Questions after questions, Voices overlapping, repeating themselves in slightly different registers as if rephrasing would unlock something I hadn’t already said. They wanted names, physical descriptions. What he screamed, what he wore. How close he came before security grabbed him. Where the knife was when they pinned him down. Did I know him. Had I seen him before. Did I recognize his face, his voice, anything. Had there been threats before th
Evelyn’s POV The cameras were already on by the time we stepped into the mall, red lights blinking softly, men walking backward in front of us, women pretending not to stare while staring anyway, and my friends slipping into that excited brightness they always wore when the crew showed up,“This place never gets old,” Lila said, adjusting her sunglasses even though we were indoors. “I swear, every time I come here with you, I forget normal life exists.”She laughed and the others followed, the sound bouncing around us, and I smiled because smiling kept things smooth and smooth kept people from asking questions I didn’t have the energy to answer.We moved from store to store without urgency, racks pulled apart, fabrics lifted and pressed against me, hands tugging at my arms, my waist, my shoulders, deciding for me what suited the wife of a man running for office. Every suggestion came with his name attached to it, every opinion tied back to what would look good beside him, what would
Evelyn’s POV Clara was calling my name when I stepped out of the shower, her voice cutting through the house sharp enough that I didn’t even bother wrapping the towel properly, just grabbed the robe and tied it halfway while my hair dripped down my back and onto the floor, my feet already moving before my brain caught up to what that tone meant.“Mom,” she called again, louder this time, and there was something wrong in it, like she was holding herself together with her teeth.“I’m coming,” I shouted back, already halfway down the stairs, my heart doing that ugly hitch it does when it recognizes danger before logic has a chance to intervene.She was standing by the kitchen counter when I reached her, backpack open and dumped out like it had vomited everything it was holding, books scattered, loose papers everywhere, her hands shaking so badly she couldn’t even keep them still on the edge of the counter. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, and the sight of that alone was enough to make m
She woke up that morning not knowing how the day would end, not knowing she would find herself walking into a hospital to see someone she technically had no reason to know, let alone care about. The day had started like any other day she forced herself through, a body moving forward while her mind lagged behind, heavy with thoughts she didn’t want to name, and when the idea crossed her mind again that she should go see Theo’s mother, it felt necessary in the way hunger feels necessaryEvelyn didn’t want cameras. She didn’t want aides whispering about optics or favors or timing. She didn’t even tell anyone where she was going, only asked the driver to take her to the hospital and left it at that, her tone flat enough to shut down questions before they could form. This wasn’t something she wanted documented or remembered publicly. This was something she needed to do because she’d seen what the weight of worry was doing to Theo, the way he carried it around like an extra limb he couldn’t
Evelyn’s POVThat plan was to do something else entirely, something quieter and far more damaging, something that hit him right where he always failed and never learned, so I set out to meet Diana.She was just a regular girl Alfred had been involved with before. Nothing special, nothing strategic, just someone who had been available when he wanted her, and somehow that made her useful now. Getting her contact was hard, harder than I expected, but getting her to agree to meet me was worse, because she obviously thought I wanted to attack her or pull her hair out or humiliate her the way wives are expected to. I had to spell it out, slowly, clearly, that I wasn’t interested in drama or apologies or explanations, that I didn’t care what she thought of me or my marriage, and that this was strictly business. Even then, she agreed like someone stepping into something she didn’t trust but couldn’t ignore.She chose the place. An open bar. Somewhere public enough that she felt safe, like tha
Evelyn My phone was still in my hand when I left the dressing room, screen dark, reflection warped across the glass, my own face staring back at me like it was waiting to see what I’d do next. Meeting Sam felt like the obvious move. It also felt like the worst one. If Theo was wrong, confronting Sam would insult years of trust and hand Alfred another fracture he could exploit. If Theo was right, meeting Sam without knowing exactly where he stood would be walking into a room blind, smiling, offering him my throat and calling it loyalty. I moved through the house on autopilot when I got home, heels abandoned near the door, fingers loosening my hair without looking in a mirror. The chef asked what I wanted for lunch. I told him whatever was easiest. He nodded, already used to my non-answers. I sat at the kitchen counter and stared at nothing, my mind replaying Theo’s face, not dramatic, not accusatory, just certain. Sam’s voice followed after, steady, familiar, the man who had talke







