4
Damien’s POV.
Vivian’s call came at 5:58 p.m. “Emergency dinner with the board,” she said, already breathless with apology and logistics. “There’s pasta, there’s chicken, there’s salad. Don’t let Lila live on sugar.”
“I’ll make sure she eats,” I said.
“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.” The door closed. Her perfume lingered like a polite lie.
I stood in the kitchen, listening to the quiet tick of the wall clock and the pool filter humming outside. A normal evening. It would have been, if normal applied to this house anymore.
Bare feet on tile. The sounds arrived before she did. Then Lila slid into the doorway and leaned on the jamb like a headline waiting to happen.
Apron first; white cotton, bow knotted at her spine. Under it, black straps and a suggestion of lace. Nothing else you’
