The stew on the stove simmered gently, its aroma filling the air with the illusion of peace. Amelia stood at the sink, absently rinsing vegetables she had no intention of cooking. Her mind wasn’t on dinner, nor on Brad. Not anymore.
She was thinking about the bracelet.
The soft clink of it against the tile floor as it had fallen from Brad’s jacket.
Could Claire really still have something to do with Brad after everything?
Amelia’s stomach turned.
She tightened her grip on the cutting board just as a sharp knock echoed through the house.
She froze.
It was too early for Brad. And no one else ever came unannounced.
Another knock—more assertive this time.
She wiped her hands on a towel and walked slowly to the front door. Her heartbeat quickened with each step, her body tensing with
