Chapter 3 - The Husband Who Finally Looked at His Wife
Vincent wanted Evelyn out of Hawthorne Manor.
She refused.
Three times.
Then she crossed her arms and said, “You left me here.”
“I know.”
“You didn't call.”
“I know.”
“You didn't ask whether I was alive.”
“I know.”
“You didn't even send flowers on our anniversary.”
Vincent's expression became uncomfortable.
Mason suddenly became fascinated with the ceiling.
Evelyn continued.
“You don't get to return because you're in trouble and decide I'm suddenly your responsibility.”
Vincent looked at the destroyed western wing.
“I didn't come back because I was in trouble.”
“Then why?”
He didn't answer.
Evelyn waited.
Finally, Vincent said, “Because I saw a photograph.”
“What photograph?”
“Your photograph.”
She blinked.
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“An article.”
“What article?”
“Community work in the Hudson Valley.”
Evelyn's mouth fell open.
“You read an article about me?”
“I did.”
“What did it say?”
“You restored the greenhouse.”
She almost laughed.
“That is what brought you back?”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“It was the photograph.”
“Which photograph?”
“You were standing with those children.”
Evelyn said nothing.
“You looked happy.”
Her throat tightened.
“And?”
“And I realized I had never seen you happy.”
She turned away.
That sentence hurt more than it should have.
Vincent continued.
“I realized I was the reason.”
Evelyn stared out the broken window.
“That's not guilt,” she said.
“What is it?”
“Regret.”
“Yes.”
She turned around.
“What's the difference?”
Vincent's expression was almost painfully honest.
“Guilt is about what you did.”
“And regret?”
“What you lost.”
The words stayed between them.
Evelyn wanted to hate him.
It would have been easier.
But the man standing in front of her was not the cold stranger who had left her eight months earlier.
He looked exhausted.
His coat was torn.
His face was bruised.
And he had a gunshot wound grazing his side.
“You're bleeding.”
“It's nothing.”
“You always say that?”
“Yes.”
“You're an idiot.”
“Yes.”
She sighed.
“Sit.”
Vincent obeyed.
Mason stared at them.
Evelyn pointed.
“You too.”
Mason sat.
She brought medical supplies.
As she cleaned Vincent's wound, he watched her.
“What?” she asked.
“You changed.”
“So did you.”
“How?”
“You learned how to say yes.”
He almost smiled.
That smile startled her.
She had never seen it before.
The next morning, Vincent woke to piano music.
He walked downstairs.
Evelyn was sitting at the piano.
A little girl beside her was trying to copy her notes.
Vincent stopped in the doorway.
The manor was alive.
There were people everywhere.
Bread cooled on tables.
Children laughed.
A dog slept by the fire.
Someone carried flower arrangements down the hall.
Vincent looked at Evelyn.
“This is a business?”
“No.”
“How much does it make?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why?”
She shrugged.
“Because people need somewhere warm.”
Vincent looked around.
No one looked afraid of him.
That disturbed him.
His entire empire depended on fear.
Hawthorne Manor seemed to operate without it.
He left the room.
He spent the day investigating the people who had attacked the property.
By evening, he had a name.
Victor Hale.
Former associate.
Former friend.
And the man who believed Hawthorne Manor contained something worth killing for.
Evelyn found Vincent in the library.
“You're leaving again.”
“No.”
She stopped.
“Then where are you going?”
“Nowhere.”
She frowned.
“I need to understand something.”
“What?”
“Why does Victor Hale care about my house?”
Vincent looked at her.
“Because the land isn't just land.”
He placed an old map on the desk.
Evelyn stared at it.
“What's this?”
“Underground freight routes.”
Her eyes widened.
“The tunnels.”
“Yes.”
“Used for what?”
Vincent hesitated.
“Contraband.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“You married me for this?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Vincent's silence said too much.
She understood.
“My father.”
“Yes.”
“So Hawthorne Manor was a debt payment.”
“It was supposed to be.”
“What changed?”
Vincent looked at her.
“You.”
Evelyn's heart stopped.
“What?”
“I didn't expect you to stay.”
“Why?”
“I expected you to sell the property.”
“And leave?”
“Yes.”
“Without you?”
“Yes.”
She laughed bitterly.
“You really had no idea who you married.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“I do now.”
That night, Vincent slept in the manor for the first time.
Not in Evelyn's room.
In the library.
At three in the morning, Evelyn woke to coughing.
She found him sitting beside the fireplace.
“You're awake.”
“So are you.”
She walked closer.
“You have a fever.”
“I'll be fine.”
“That's my line.”
He looked up at her.
“Stay.”
Evelyn froze.
It was a single word.
Quiet.
Vulnerable.
Almost desperate.
She sat across from him.
Neither spoke.
Outside, snow covered the grounds.
May you like
Inside, the fire burned.
For the first time since their wedding, husband and wife sat in the same room without either pretending they were strangers.
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