Eve's POV
Kamila and Miter didn’t let Evelyn return to her tiny apartment above the restaurant that night. She had fainted, and her face had been pale all through the evening. So they bundled her quietly into their car and drove her home.
The Rodrigos’ house was warm in a way that the Ashbrook mansion had never been. It was cluttered with family photos, the smell of cinnamon bread drifting from the kitchen, and the faint hum of laughter that lingered even in the quiet. Kamila tucked her into the guest room with gentle hands, murmuring prayers under her breath, while Miter paced the hallway, his jaw tight.
“Sleep,” Kamila whispered, brushing Evelyn’s damp hair from her forehead. “Tomorrow will take care of itself.”
But Evelyn barely slept.
When morning came, the Rodrigos insisted she
