The Thorne Heiress Unveiling Shadow novel Chapter 64

The transformation of Sheriff Smith was instantaneous and absolute. He personally escorted Evelyn, Kaelen, and Martha back to the Havenwood Inn, his face a pale, sweaty mask of terror.

He insisted on posting two of his best men outside their suite, as if he were guarding the president himself.

The door to the honeymoon suite closed. For the first time, the world was blessedly, completely quiet.

The three of them—Evelyn, Kaelen, and the woman who held the key to her past—were finally alone, finally safe.

Martha Gable sank onto the plush floral sofa. Her entire body was trembling, her kind face a ruin of shock and dawning comprehension.

The chaos of the bake sale, the guns, the sheriff's groveling… it had shattered the peaceful illusion she had lived in for nearly two decades.

Evelyn expected to have to coax the story out of her, to gently probe and ask the right questions. But she needed no prompting.

The raw, terrifying display of power she had just witnessed had broken through her last defenses. She looked at Evelyn with fear and a strange, desperate relief.

"It was the ring," she whispered, her voice a dry, cracking rustle. "I knew it was them the moment I saw the ring."

Kaelen and Evelyn exchanged a look. "What ring, Martha?" Evelyn asked gently, taking a seat in the armchair opposite her.

"The woman," she said, her gaze distant, lost in a memory from eighteen years ago. "She came to the nursery a few days before the switch. She said she was a benefactor, a patron of the hospital."

"She was beautiful, dressed in a dark blue suit. But her eyes… they were cold. Like a snake's." Martha shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.

Kaelen, who had been standing silently by the fireplace, moved to the small kitchenette. He returned a moment later with a steaming cup of chamomile tea.

He didn't hand it to her. He placed it on the small table beside her chair. Then, his large, warm hand gently closed over both of her cold ones.

He didn't say a word. He just stood there, his thumb stroking the back of her hand, his warmth seeping into her skin, a silent, steadying presence.

The simple, unthinking gesture sent a jolt through her, a warmth that had nothing to do with the tea. Her breath hitched in her throat.

This wasn't part of the mission. This was a quiet, intimate act of care.

His hand was so warm.