"You are really considerate," she said softly to him, her voice pitched low enough that only the three of us could hear.
He did not deny it.
The conversation around the table continued its measured flow, voices rising and falling like the tide against the harbor stones—as if this were nothing more than an ordinary gathering of blood and obligation.
I lowered my gaze to the plate before me, forcing my hands to maintain their steady rhythm. Cut. Lift. Chew. Swallow. Each motion deliberate, each breath controlled. The crystal chandeliers cast fractured light across the mahogany, and somewhere in the depths of the estate, a grandfather clock marked the seconds with merciless precision.
Soon.
The word settled in my chest like a loaded chamber.