Just as Sid was drowning in the flood of information, his mind racing, his chest tight from everything he had witnessed— a soft, distinct click of a door latch instantly snapped his attention away from his internal crisis. He flinched, expecting the mother to return. But as he turned his head, his breath hitched in his throat.
Standing in the doorway— the other doorway, Evelise's legitimate bedroom door… was little Evelise. Her ruby eyes were not tearful, not fearful, but burning with a cold, intense fury directed squarely at him. Sid felt the final, crushing piece of the puzzle slot into place, horrifying him.
"She knows. She always knew."
Evelise's coldness, her deep-seated mistrust of men, her immediate hostility toward the servant she called "old man"— it wasn't arbitrary.
