Chapter 64

When dawn’s first pale light filtered through the linen curtains, Thomas settled himself opposite Cassandra at the breakfast table, the steam from their coffee curling between them like whispered secrets. The scent of freshly baked croissants mingled with toasted almonds, but beneath the homely aroma lay a tension neither could ignore. Thomas had taken Brian’s counsel to heart: it was time to speak with his wife, to confess that he knew more than he’d let on.

Cassandra sat, silverware in hand, her gaze fixed on the polished wood beneath the table. Thomas cleared his throat, careful to keep his voice low. “Cass, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Her silence was a heavy thing, pressing against him. She didn’t look up. Thomas drew a slow breath. “I know something… about the person who hurt you and Clara.”

Cassandra’s fork hovered midway to her mouth. She bit her lower lip, the skin blanching under her teeth. “So…” Her voice was barely above a whisper.