The new terms of their surrender—The Veto, The Bat-Signal, the safe word—created a rhythm that felt both revolutionary and as natural as breathing. They were designing a life, not just buildings, and for the first time, Evelyn felt like she was using all her skills on something that truly mattered. The Berkeley house was transforming from a construction site into a home. The smell of sawdust was slowly giving way to the scent of lemon polish and the rosemary plant Liam had insisted on for the kitchen windowsill.
It was on a rare, quiet Sunday afternoon, with Evelyn sketching ADU variations on the new sofa and Liam dozing with his head in her lap, that the past tapped on their window.
The doorbell rang, a stark, unfamiliar sound in their still-unfamiliar home. Liam stirred, grumbling. Eve
