Riley’s POV
I came downstairs that afternoon, my mind still spinning from last night. The way Gerald had looked at that text message. The way he’d smiled and acted so calm.
Too calm.
Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.
I found Martha in the kitchen, arranging fresh flowers in a vase.
“Oh, Ma’am!” She looked up with a smile. “These roses just came in from the garden. Thomas said they’re the last of the season. Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“They’re lovely,” I said, moving closer to admire them. The scent was sweet, almost overwhelming.
“I was thinking of putting them in the dining room,” Martha continued, adjusting a stem. “Unless you’d prefer them in the sitting room?”
“The dining room looks great.” I watched her as she worked, enjoying the quiet between us.
Martha steppe
