Chapter 1
Evie
Myfatherlookshappiestwhen he’s lying.
Not the harmless kind people tell to smooth over awkward moments. The kind that saves him. The kind that makes his shoulders loosen and his eyes brighten like the universe finally decided he deserves mercy.
That’s the look on his face when I walk into the living room and see a stranger sitting on our couch like he belongs here.
The man is older. Late fifties. Bald. Broad through the shoulders. Expensive watch. Polished shoes. The kind of calm you don’t get from a peaceful life, but from a life where people step aside.
He glances up when I enter.
His gaze drags over me, slow.
I hate that my body is the first thing men notice. I’m five-four, soft hourglass, full hips and thighs, a chest that makes simple clothes look fitted whether I want it or not. I’m not trying to show anything off. I’m just built this way. And most days I feellike my curves are barely tolerated, like I’m taking up too much space and everyone’s waiting for me to apologize for it.
My cheeks heat. I pull my cardigan tighter across my chest as if fabric can erase a shape. The simple pale dress underneath isn’t tight or fancy, but on me it still clings in places I wish it wouldn’t.
Dad clears his throat. “Evie, come sit. We’re just talking.”
Just talking.
I stay standing. Standing means I can leave.
“What is this?” I ask.
Dad laughs too quickly. “It’s an opportunity.”
The stranger’s mouth lifts into a pleasant smile that never reaches his eyes. “Evie McKenna.”
He says my name like he’s confirming an order.
Dad gestures toward him like he’s presenting a gift. “This is Mr. Voss. He’s… helping us.”
Helping us.
I look at Dad. “With what?”
Dad’s eyes flick away. He can never say the ugly part out loud. If he says it, he has to own it.
Mr. Voss speaks smoothly. “Your father has a problem. I’m offering a solution.”
Dad nods hard. “A clean slate. A fresh start.”
Fresh start. Dad collects pretty phrases the way other men collect tools. He says them like they fix things.
My stomach tightens. “What kind of solution?”
Dad flinches like I aimed too close to the truth.
Mr. Voss’s gaze dips again, deliberate. “The kind that requires your agreement.”
My pulse thuds once, heavy. “My agreement to what?”
Dad rushes in, voice shaky. “He’s stable. He’s old-fashioned. He can take care of you, Evie. You won’t have to worry anymore.”
I stare at my father.
