I straighten. Wash my hands, even though there is nothing on them. Dry them carefully. By the time I unlock the door, my breathing is even. My expression is neutral. The crack is there, wider now, pressing at the edges but still contained.
For now.
I step back into the room. The tray is gone. Teresa works efficiently.
Good. Less evidence.
I cross to the window again, looking out at the hedge, the rain, the man with the gun pretending to be part of the landscaping. Everything looks the same.
That’s almost funny.
I rest my hand, briefly, against my stomach. A point of reference. Then I drop it.
No sentiment. Not yet. There will be time for that. Or there won’t.
For now, there’s only adjustment. Recalculation. A new variable introduced into a system that was already unstable.
I turn away from the window. There’s work to do. And now…
The clock is louder.
Chapter 13
Twins Revealed
POV:Evie
Teresa doesn’t ask if I’m pregnant. That would be too easy. Instead, she removes coffee from my mornings, adds dry toast to every tray, and begins looking at me the way one looks at a locked drawer that has started ticking.
For four days, neither of us says anything.
On the fifth, I nearly vomit into a vase in the library. Not an ugly vase; that would’ve been less embarrassing. This one is blue porcelain, old, and probably worth more than several minor cousins.
Teresa appears in the doorway exactly twelve seconds later, because apparently the woman has a second career as a ghost. “You need a doctor.”
I close the book in front of me. “I need people to stop entering rooms immediately after my body betrays me.”
“You need a doctor.”
“How repetitive.”
“How pale.”
“I’m Irish. We’ve discussed this.”
“Not this pale.”
I look at her. She looks back with the same practical assessment she gives trays, fires, linens, and inconvenient women who refuse to collapse on schedule.
“You need to see Dr. Sardi. He’s the family doctor.”
I roll my eyes. “Which is exactly why I’m not seeing him.”
Teresa closes the door behind her. “You need confirmation.”
I grit my teeth. “I have confirmation.”
“You need more.”
