The Widow's Game

Evangeline's Pov

"She was holding up remarkably well."

"Poor thing. So young to be a widow."

"I heard she got his shares now."

The whispers followed me like flies, and I let them because that’s what widows did. We floated through rooms in black dresses and let people say whatever they needed to say to make themselves feel better about death.

I stood beside the casket with my hands folded and my head bowed. I counted the board members as they filed past, twelve of them showed up. Three were missing, I memorized who looked guilty, who looked scared, and who already seemed to be calculating how this changed the power structure at Harrow Industries.

Daniel was in that box, and all they could think about was money and shares and who controlled what now. I should have been disgusted, but I was doing the same math, so maybe I didn’t get to judge.

"Mrs Harrow."

The voice cut through the room like a knife, and everyone went quiet, not the respectful funeral quiet, but the prey-animal quiet when a predator walked in.

I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Nathaniel Harrow had that effect on people. His presence made the air heavier and colder and harder to breathe. I had only met him twice before that day, and both times I wanted to run, but both times I stayed frozen because running would mean he won.

I turned slowly because fast movements showed fear, and I wasn’t going to give him that. He was wearing a black suit that probably cost more than my childhood home, and his face was carved from stone. His eyes were the coldest shade of gray I’d ever seen. They didn’t look sad, they didn’t look anything. That was somehow worse than if they looked cruel.

"Mr Harrow." My voice came out steady. I was proud of that.

"Nathaniel." He moved closer, and the crowd parted for him without even realizing they were doing it. "We’re family now. No need for formalities."

Family. The word tasted like acid, but I smiled anyway. "Of course. Nathaniel."

His eyes moved over my face like he was looking for cracks in the mask, I kept it smooth. I’d been practicing this performance for three years of marriage, and I wasn’t going to break now for him.

"My brother spoke highly of you."

Daniel barely spoke about me at all except to apologize when his family made comments about us not having children yet or about my family’s fallen status or about how I should smile more at company dinners.

"He was a good man." I said it because it was what I was supposed to say. Good was subjective anyway. Daniel never hit me, he never yelled. He just slowly disappeared into his family’s shadow until there was nothing left but apologies and excuses.

"He was weak." Nathaniel said it so quietly that only I could hear. His hand reached out and wrapped around my wrist. "You’re trembling. Let me steady you."

I wasn’t trembling, but his fingers were hot against my skin like a brand, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe right. He was standing too close. He smelled like expensive soap and something darker underneath. His thumb pressed against my pulse point, and I knew he could feel my heart racing.

"I’m fine." I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened just enough that I knew it was a choice. He could let go. He didn’t want to.

"Of course you are." He released me, but the heat stayed on my skin like a burn. "You’ve always been stronger than Daniel gave you credit for."

There was something in the way he said it that made my stomach twist. Like he’d been watching, like he knew things he shouldn’t know.

"The building collapse." I kept my voice low. Two could play at private conversations in public rooms. "They’re saying it was an accident."

"Are they." It wasn’t a question.

"Faulty materials, shortcuts, cost-cutting measures." I watched his face for any reaction. There was nothing, he was as blank as a wall. "Seventeen men died."

"Eighteen." His correction was soft. "Eighteen men, including my brother."

"Of course." I felt something hot flash through my chest, and it might have been anger or it might have been something worse. "Do you think it was an accident?"

His eyes finally showed something. Amusement maybe or appreciation. "What do you think, Mrs. Harrow?"

"I think your family builds empires on cheap concrete and lies." The words came out before I could stop them. They were stupid and dangerous, his brother had just died, and I was accusing him of murder at the funeral.

But Nathaniel just smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. "Careful. People might think you’re not grieving properly."

"Are you grieving?" I shouldn’t have pushed, but I couldn’t help it. "You don’t look sad."

"I don’t waste time on useless emotions." He leaned in closer, and his breath brushed my ear. "Neither do you, apparently. I’ve been watching you all morning. You haven’t cried once when you thought no one was looking."

My blood turned to ice. He’d been watching, how long had he been watching?

"Grief looks different on everyone." I stepped back, and this time he let me. "Some of us are just better at hiding it."

"Or some of us don’t feel it at all." He straightened his tie, and his face went back to that blank, nothing expression. "The will reading is tomorrow. Ten in the morning. Don’t be late."

"I’ll be there."

"I know you will." He started to walk away, then stopped. Turned back. "You should come by tonight. My penthouse. We have unfinished business to discuss."

My heart was pounding so hard I thought everyone in the room must hear it. "What kind of business?"

"The kind that involves thirty percent of my company landing in your very pretty hands." His eyes dragged down my body and back up in a way that made my skin crawl and burn at the same time. "Among other things."

"That’s inappropriate." I said it, but I didn’t mean it. Not really.

"Everything about this is inappropriate, Evangeline." He used my first name like a weapon. "Your husband is barely cold, and we’re already circling each other like wolves. Might as well stop pretending we’re civilized."

He walked away before I could respond, and the room slowly came back to life around me. People started whispering again, someone touched my shoulder. I thought they asked if I was okay. I thought I said yes.

But all I could think about was Nathaniel’s hand on my wrist and his breath on my ear and the way he said barely cold like it was funny. Like death was just another business transaction.

I hated him. I hated him so completely that it sat in my chest like a living thing with teeth.

I should have gone home. I should have locked my doors. I should have stayed as far away from Nathaniel Harrow as possible.

Instead, I found myself asking his assistant for his address as I was leaving. She looked surprised but wrote it down on the back of a business card. The ink was still wet when I folded it into my purse.

I should have walked away. Every instinct screamed at me to walk away.

But my father always said I had more pride than sense. And right then, my pride was telling me Nathaniel Harrow didn’t get to win by making me too scared to show up.