The house stayed quiet for a long time after Victoria went upstairs.

Elena remained at the table with the cold soup and the ordinary bread and the thick residual heat of the afternoon’s claim still warm between her legs. The lower marks under her sweater ached in a deep continuous line. Marcus’s hand had dropped from her neck the second footsteps moved in the master bedroom. The private frequency between them was still absolute and completely strained under the weight of the near-revelation—Victoria naming the study, the hour, the real-time ownership while Elena sat across from her still full of him and the marks still dark and the continuous pressure...