Victoria POV

The house hummed with a dangerous sort of order, like a clock that had learned to beat to someone else’s rules. Maxwell’s silence had become its own sound a calculated thing. He moved beneath it like a man with a knife stowed away, and I had to know when he was going to strike.

He thought he could plan in private. He thought he could keep secrets from me. How quaint.

I paced the sitting room, heels clicking, until the sound ricocheted off the walls. Maxwell never ...