No calls came. No demands. No clues surfaced. The world swallowed him whole, leaving me nothing but silence.
That was three months ago.
Ninety days of staring at blank walls, letting calls go unanswered, forgetting what food tasted like. My body survived, but I wasn’t really living anymore.
Tonight, Lucinda refused to take no for an answer.
“You need to get out of that house,” she insisted while helping me into a coat. “Even a short dinner. You can’t keep locking yourself away, Eleanor.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t have the energy.
The restaurant was warm and low-lit, full of muted laughter and clinking plates. Lucinda excused herself almost immediately, saying she needed to make a quick call. I remained in my seat, pushing ice around in my glass and wishing I could fade into the wallpaper.
Then I heard voices near the entrance.
Not just hers.
“…have you lost your mind?” Lucinda hissed. “You seriously expect to live as Harold and let everyone believe Nathaniel is dead? Eleanor is already falling apart. Her son is gone, and now this. You think pretending to be her brother-in-law won’t destroy her completely?”
Every muscle in my body locked.