POV: EvelynThe clock on the mantel ticked toward two in the morning, and the tea in my cup had long since gone cold, leaving a bitter film against the porcelain. Arthur had never been this late without calling, not once in the three years we had been married, so I stayed on the sofa with my eyes fixed on the darkened driveway visible through the window. The silence of the house was heavy, only broken by the sharp, rhythmic tapping of heels coming down the hallway."Still sitting here like a loyal dog, I see," Rebecca said, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her designer silk robe.I didn't turn around to look at her, but I could hear the smirk in her voice as I replied, "Arthur isn't home yet, so I thought I’d wait up to make sure he’s alright.""He’s a grown man, Evelyn, not a toddler who needs his hand held, but since you’re already making yourself useful as the unpaid night watchman, you can go to the kitchen and make me those lemon tarts I like," she de
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