But nothing. Not a single word.
You’d think that would’ve been a relief, but no. The silence made it worse. Because silence in families like this usually meant one of two things, either no one had noticed yet, or everyone had, and they were politely ignoring it until it could be blamed on the help.
Noah and I had agreed to keep it quiet for now, although the secret was really starting to weigh on me.
My nerves were shot, my coffee had gone cold, and even the lilies on my mood board were starting to look like they were judging me.
The wedding was only three days away, but it already felt like the estate was living on borrowed calm.
“I’m going to check the grounds,” I said, reaching for my tablet pretending it was a completely legitimate task.
Cleo didn’t even look up. “Is that code for ‘please don’t call me for five minutes’?”
“Ten,” I said. “If the Wi-Fi cuts out, consider it divine intervention.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “But please come back soon, I’m drowning here.”
The buzz of the estate faded as I slipped outside, trading the smell of coffee and panic for earth and vine.
I took the path that curved behind the house, the temperature dipping as the shade of the vines took over. The air cooled, carrying a faint, earthy scent, damp soil, crushed leaves and the sweet trace of ripening grapes.
The gravel crunched beneath my shoes, each step echoing just enough to remind me how still it was out here. Even the breeze seemed to hush as it moved through the canopy, whispering against the leaves.
Dappled light filtered through the tangled vines, glinting off the old wire trellis. Somewhere nearby, a fly buzzed lazily before disappearing into the greenery.
Everything felt still.
Until, that is, I heard voices.
“…it’s not that simple,” a woman said, low but clipped.
Emma.
Another voice followed, steadier, a hint of irritation tucked into each word. Ethan.
“It never is,” he replied.
I slowed without meaning to. Their tones weren’t angry exactly, more… urgent. The kind of urgent that suggested there was something to hide.
Emma sounded close to tears. “You promised me, Ethan. Not this week. Not with everyone here.”
“I know what I promised,” he said, his voice lower now. “But I have to do this.”
Emma sighed, a sound somewhere between frustration and defeat. “You just have to hold it together a few more days. Please.”
Ethan said something I couldn’t make out, then: “I don’t think I can.”
Silence stretched for a beat too long.
A bird startled from the vines, and I took a step back instinctively, right onto a bit of gravel. It crunched, loud enough to betray me.
Both of them turned at once.
Both of them froze when they saw me, like kids caught somewhere they shouldn’t be. Ethan recovered first, his trademark charm sliding neatly into place. “Miss Sinclair,” he said, voice smooth but a touch too quick. “Didn’t expect to see you all the way out here.”
I lifted my tablet slightly. “Just checking the cellar doors. Routine stuff.”
Emma blinked, her face too composed to be natural. “Oh, right. We were just… going over our speeches.”
