I nodded once.
He reached out, took my hand without hesitation, and stepped inside like he belonged here.
The first person to notice him was Aunt Deirdre. Her face paled instantly. The wine glass slid from her hand and shattered against the floor. The sound echoed through the house like a warning bell.
My mother appeared around the corner, ready to lecture me for allowing someone in before she had granted permission. Her words died in her throat when she saw Beau.
He advanced toward her and extended his hand as though this were an introduction at a gala. “I am Beau Kingsley,” he said, voice calm enough to make the hairs on my arms rise. “Selena’s husband.”
The room fell so quiet that even the refrigerator humming sounded intrusive.
Troy froze halfway down the staircase, his tie hanging undone around his neck. My mother blinked rapidly as if her eyes refused to process the information her ears had received.
Beau reached into his jacket, removed a small velvet box, and handed it to me with composure that felt unshakeable. Inside was a key and a tag from a boutique I had never been inside. He turned back to my mother. “I am fully aware of what you have done,” he said. His tone was icy but not loud. “This situation is not finished.”
Then he looked at me. “Come with me. We are leaving.”
As we crossed the threshold, I felt the weight of the silence press against my back. I could feel one final question hanging in the air behind me like a storm cloud.
