The autumn sun broke through the glass skyline of Manhattan in sharp, brilliant streaks of amber and pale yellow.
Inside the penthouse kitchen, the heavy iron kettle let out a low, pleasant hiss on the stovetop. The rich, earthy aroma of freshly ground dark coffee beans mingled with the sweet scent of sizzling butter and warm cinnamon syrup.
Evelyn stood near the island counter, wearing a thick oatmeal-colored cardigan over a soft linen camisole and comfortable cotton trousers. Her hair was gathered in a loose braid over her shoulder. She moved with an easy, unhurried grace–a stark contrast to the sharp, tense movements that used to govern her every step in this very room.
She took a deep, steady breath, holding the warm mug of coffee in both hands. Her heart felt grounded, heavy with t
