"You haven’t told me about your lunch yesterday."

Evelyn’s voice was quiet, but piercing, as William stepped into her apartment that evening.

He had just taken off his jacket and set his bag on the couch. He turned, slightly startled by the tone—unlike her usual calm.

"I didn’t think it was important," William replied, trying to sound composed.

Evelyn looked at him, eyes steady.

"The media thinks otherwise. There are photos of you two sitting at that restaurant, with the headline: ‘Hartford’s Fiancée Shines Again.’"

William exhaled.

"I didn’t invite the press. I didn’t even know they would be there."

"But you still sat there. With Eva. And the heirloom...