The sunlight that spilled into the nursery was gentle, warm enough to soften even the sharp edges of memory.
Evelyn sat cross-legged on the rug beside her daughters, a half-built castle of colorful blocks rising in front of them.
Lily was explaining something about towers and gates with the seriousness of a six-year-old who thought she knew architecture. Emma was frowning at a misplaced piece, trying to make the windows even. Evelyn smiled faintly and handed her a smaller block.
"Try this one," she said softly.
Emma blinked at her — cautious, uncertain — then took it. When it fit perfectly, her face lit up. "It worked!"
"Of course it did," Evelyn murmured, brushing a stray curl from her daughter's forehead. "You're clever, just like your father."
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Once, she would never have said that. Once, she'd used Alexander's name as a weapon — a reminder, a comparison, a shadow that loomed over their every meal.
Now, saying it felt right. Natural.
Grace slept in her crib nearby, tiny fingers curled into a fist, her chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm.
Evelyn didn't care about the blocks. She wasn't really playing — she was watching. Learning. Memorizing the sounds of laughter that had once vanished too soon.
She knew she couldn't erase years of fear overnight. She couldn't make her daughters forget the shouting, the slammed doors, the mother who'd loved her anger more than them. But she could start here. With this.
A small step.
A moment of peace.
Lily giggled as the castle's tower toppled. Evelyn laughed too — and it startled both children.
She hadn't laughed in their presence for years.
The sound made them pause, eyes wide. Then, slowly, they smiled.
And for a little while, the house — that cold, enormous mansion — felt like home again.
---
It happened so suddenly, the shift in the air.
The faint hum of an engine. Footsteps.
And then — a voice.
That voice.
Evelyn's hand froze midair, the Lego piece slipping from her fingers and rolling under the rug.
Hannah.
The sound of her sister's laughter, light and confident, carried up the hall like the shadow of a storm.
The same voice that had whispered lies into her ears.
The same woman who had smiled as Evelyn's world burned.
Her blood went cold.
Lily looked up instantly, her smile vanishing. Emma's small hands trembled.
They knew that voice too.
Whenever Aunt Hannah came, there was always shouting. Sometimes hitting. Sometimes dark rooms and locked doors. Their mother would change, her warmth turning to ice, her words to knives.
Now, even though Evelyn had changed, the memory of the old her made her daughters shrink.
"Mommy…" Lily whispered. "Is she going to stay?"
Evelyn swallowed hard, forcing her voice to stay calm. "No, sweetheart. Not today."
She stood, smoothing her dress. "Stay here with Grace, all right? Don't come out."
They nodded quickly, eyes wide with fear and confusion.
Evelyn stepped out of the nursery, her heartbeat thudding like thunder in her ears.
---
Hannah was already there — leaning against the doorway like she owned the place, phone in hand, smile sharp enough to cut.
"Finally," she said, tilting her head. "I was starting to think you'd gone mad, Evie. Didn't answer a single call. Oliver was worried."
At the mention of his name, Evelyn's stomach twisted.
Oliver. The man she had once believed in. The man who had killed her.
And standing before her was the woman who had helped him do it.
Evelyn didn't move. She didn't speak. She just stared.
Hannah frowned. "What's that look for?"
When Evelyn still didn't answer, her sister laughed, stepping closer. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Don't tell me Alexander's got you locked up again. Honestly, I don't know why you even put up with that man."
Evelyn's voice was quiet. Too quiet. "What are you doing here, Hannah?"
Hannah blinked, momentarily thrown by the calm. "I came to talk, obviously. Oliver's been worried. You're supposed to meet him this afternoon. What's wrong with you? Why aren't you—"
The words died on her tongue.
Evelyn's hand moved so fast Hannah barely saw it coming.
A sharp crack broke the silence.
Then another.
Two perfect slaps, precise and clean.
Hannah staggered back, eyes wide, one hand flying to her cheek. "You—You hit me?"
Evelyn stepped forward, her gaze hard as glass. "That was for the lies you told me. For the life you destroyed. For the man you helped kill."
"Kill?" Hannah repeated, laughing shakily. "Evie, have you lost your—"
But then she saw him.
Alexander Carter stood at the top of the staircase, one hand on the railing, watching everything unfold. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes — sharp, calculating — missed nothing.
Hannah's lips twisted into a performance, the one she'd perfected years ago. She let her tears spill. "Alexander! I don't know what's wrong with her. She—she's gone crazy! All because Oliver didn't send her a gift yesterday. I swear, she's making a scene over nothing!"
Evelyn's jaw tightened.
The old Evelyn would've crumbled. She would've second-guessed herself, apologized, explained.
Not this Evelyn.
She grabbed Hannah by the arm, fingers sinking into the fabric of her sleeve. Then, with a strength Hannah hadn't expected, she dragged her down the stairs, through the foyer, and toward the door.
"Evelyn!" Hannah shrieked, stumbling. "Let go of me! Are you insane?"
Evelyn didn't stop. "If I ever see you in this house again," she hissed, "if you ever speak to me, my husband, or my daughters again — I'll make sure you regret it."
She shoved her sister out the front door, slamming it behind her so hard the chandelier above trembled.
The servants stood frozen in the hall.
Evelyn turned to them, her voice calm but razor-sharp. "If any of you ever let that woman inside again, you'll be dismissed on the spot. Is that clear?"
A chorus of nervous nods answered her.
Evelyn exhaled slowly, her hands trembling. The anger, the pain, the years of blindness — all of it coiled inside her chest like fire.
At the top of the stairs, Alexander was still watching her.
Their eyes met.
For the first time in years, he didn't see a spoiled wife or a scheming socialite.
He saw something far more dangerous.
A woman who had drawn a line in blood and would not cross it again.
He didn't speak — not then.
He only studied her in silence, the gears of his mind turning.
Whatever was happening to his wife, it was no simple tantrum.
And Evelyn Carter, breathing hard in the middle of the grand hall, knew it too.
This was the first true step in her new life.
The day she stopped running from her past — and started fighting back.