Tristan's POV
I watched Evie strap Tommy into the backseat, their bags already stashed in my trunk. The old apartment building receded in my rearview mirror, a blur of crumbling brick and bad memories. A quick message zapped off to my cook and cleaner, a heads-up that I had guests. *Tidy up. ASAP.*
Tommy, bless his cotton socks, was a walking, talking question mark. “Mr. Tristan, is your house really big? Do you have, like, a secret room? Is there a swimming pool? My friend Jason, he says his uncle has a pool, but I’ve never seen it.”
I chuckled, glancing at him in the mirror. “No secret room, Tommy. But it’s big enough. And yes, there’s a pool.”
His squeal of delight was infectious. Evie, however, remained a silent statue beside me, her gaze fixed on the passing city lights. The tens
