Chapter 5

Evelyn's POV

The car entered the tunnel. Harsh fluorescent light bounced off white tiles. The noise of traffic echoed and amplified.

I closed my eyes. Tried to breathe.

Reminded myself I was Mrs. Winthrop now. The grieving widow. Not the girl who'd fallen in love with her stepson.

By the time we emerged into Manhattan, I'd rebuilt my walls.

We drove through Midtown's canyon of skyscrapers. Past Times Square's bright chaos. Then north to the Upper East Side.

The streets grew quieter. The buildings more elegant.

Christmas decorations were everywhere. Designer window displays. Elegant wreaths on townhouse doors. Trees wrapped in thousands of tiny lights.

It should have been beautiful.

Instead it just reminded me I'd spent the last five Christmases in hell.

"The wake is this afternoon," Adrian said. "There will be a lot of people. Business associates. Political connections. People you've probably never met. Families like ours..." He paused. "You know how it is. Father's funeral isn't just about grief. It's about showing the world that Winthrop Industries is still standing strong."

He paused. Looked at me.

"You don't have to come if you're too tired. I can tell everyone you haven't arrived yet. You can rest. Get over the jet lag. Come to the funeral tomorrow instead."

Something in his voice made my chest tight. He was trying to protect me. Give me an out.

"No," I said. "I'll be there."

If anything, the crowd made it more important. Arthur had saved me from a fate worse than death. The least I could do was show up at his wake and play my part. Stand there in my black dress and pearls. Let everyone see that the Winthrop family was still intact. Still respectable. That Arthur's death hadn't thrown us into chaos.

Families like theirs—like ours, I supposed—didn't grieve in private. They performed grief. And I owed Arthur that performance.

His jaw tightened. "Evelyn—"

"I said I'll be there." My voice came out harder than I meant. "He was my husband. I should be there."

The words felt like ash in my mouth. But they were true in the only way that mattered.

Adrian looked like he wanted to argue. Then his expression softened. "Alright. But you don't have to do anything except be there. Don't worry about making conversation or remembering names. Just... stand beside me. I'll handle everything else." He paused. "The funeral is tomorrow at ten. After that, there's the reading of the will."

I nodded. Cataloging the schedule like mission parameters.

Wake this afternoon. Funeral tomorrow morning. Will reading after.

Three events where I'd have to face people who'd judged me. Who'd whispered about Arthur's young wife. Who'd been relieved when I left.

The car slowed. We were on East 73rd Street now. Where old money lived in townhouses that cost more than most people earned in a lifetime.

The Winthrop mansion took up half a block. Five stories of limestone. Tall windows glowing with warm light. A facade that looked both welcoming and utterly intimidating.

My chest tightened.

I could see every detail. The iron railings I'd gripped while learning to walk in heels. The front steps where Adrian had caught me when I'd slipped on ice. The library windows where we'd spent so many evenings.

Him reading contracts. Me pretending to study but really just watching him.

The car pulled up to the entrance. The door opened before we'd fully stopped.

James appeared at the top of the steps. Silver hair. Ramrod posture. That expression of polite disapproval he'd perfected over thirty years.

"Mrs. Winthrop," he said as I stepped out. His tone was perfectly professional. Completely cold. "Welcome back."

I'd always known James didn't approve of me. But hearing that flat greeting after five years still stung.

I forced a smile. "Thank you, James. I appreciate you keeping everything ready."

"Of course, madam." His gaze flicked to Adrian. Something shifted in his expression. "Your room has been prepared. Shall I have your luggage brought up?"

"Please," Adrian said. His voice had that edge of command. "And let Catherine know we've arrived."

James nodded and disappeared.

Suddenly I was alone with Adrian on the front steps. The wind cutting through my coat. Warm light from the windows making everything feel surreal.

He was standing close. Close enough that I could feel his body heat. Smell his cologne mixing with the cold air.

Every cell in my body screamed at me to either move closer or run.

"I should warn you," he said quietly. Something in his tone made me tense. "Catherine's been difficult since Father died. She's handling the grief badly. And she's never really forgiven—"

He stopped. Reconsidered.

"She's not happy you're back."

I almost laughed. Catherine had been sixteen when I left. Old enough to understand the whispers. Old enough to be horrified that I might have feelings for her brother.

She'd lost her mother six months before Arthur married me. I'd never figured out if she resented me for trying to replace her mother. Or for not trying hard enough.

"I understand," I said.

What else could I say?

Adrian looked like he wanted to say more. But the front door opened.

A young woman appeared.

For a moment, I didn't recognize her. Catherine had been gangly when I left. Still growing into her features. Still figuring out who she was.

The woman standing there now was twenty-one. Blonde and beautiful. She looked like Adrian. Wearing a black dress that probably cost thousands. Her expression was cold fury.

Her blue eyes—the same shade as Adrian's, as Arthur's—locked on me.

I watched her expression shift. Surprise. Then something harder. Colder. More deliberate.

"Well," she said. Her voice sharp and cutting. "Look who decided to show up."