Gerald’s POV
I watched Erica take another bite of her chicken, careful with every move.
“Yes,” she said softly. “Everything is just perfect.”
But we all knew it was a lie.
I could feel it in the air between us. The tension. The secrets. Three people sitting at one table, each hiding something.
I sipped my wine and kept a calm face, though my mind was moving fast.
That question about the drawer. The way she’d almost mentioned Mirabel before stopping herself.
Something had happened today.
And the broken glass. Of course she’d ask about the broken glass.
I told her a smooth lie. The glass slipped out of my hand. It made sense.
But I’d seen the doubt in her eyes. The way she’d studied my face, looking for cracks in my story.
She didn’t believe me.
And why should she? I was a terrib
