“Why didn’t you open everything properly for them before?” she snapped, forgetting that half the room could hear her.
Daniel froze.
Evelyn closed her eyes for a second. Not out of weakness, but to keep herself from screaming.
“Peter,” she said, “no one gets in. No one touches the gate. Record everything. Photograph plates, faces, boxes, and the keys they tried to use. The patrol car is on its way.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Claire took one step toward Evelyn.
“They’re my parents, not criminals!”
“Then they should have behaved like guests, not invaders.”
Megan, one of Claire’s cousins, stood from a side table.
“Well, everyone knows that estate is rotting away empty. She doesn’t even use all the rooms.”
Daniel’s aunt Susan slammed her palm onto the table.
“Henry built that estate with thirty years of work. It is not storage space for opportunists.”
The comment set the ballroom on fire. Some guests began talking among themselves. Others kept recording. Claire, seeing the phones, pressed one hand to her chest as if she had just been att:acked.
“See?” she said, whining. “His family hated me from the beginning.”
Evelyn looked at her without blinking.
“No, Claire. From the beginning, you confused my manners with permission.”
Daniel moved closer to his mother, this time quieter, more desperate.
“I was going to explain it after the honeymoon. I thought that once they were already settled in, you would accept it. It was just easier that way.”
Evelyn felt that sentence hurt more than the last one.
“Easier for whom?”
Daniel lowered his voice.
“For everyone.”
