Chapter 8: Midnight Kitchen

Ethan's POV

I had never driven to the Ashcroft house on purpose.

Molly had texted me at four from the bakery: "Sylvie collapsed. Her mother took her home. Please find out if she's alright."

She did not say please to people she didn't need.

So I went, with the cane in the back seat because the front gate had cameras.

The housekeeper let me into the front hall and told me to wait.

The hall was marble, with a staircase that curved up to a landing.

A door stood open on the right, a study with leather chairs, and I heard two voices in it.

One was Diane's.

The other was a man, calm and dry, whom I knew from the gala as the family doctor.

"The panel came back this morning," he said. "It's cleaner than I hoped. She's a six out of six, Diane."

"And she can't know."

"She doesn't need to. She needs to be here on Friday."

"She'll come if the wedding is fixed. The family will see to it."

"Then keep her calm. The longer she's comfortable, the easier it is."

"Sylvie has weeks, doctor. Not months."

I stood very still.

I did not understand the words, and I understood the tone.

It was the tone Gilbert used when he told our father I was fine.

Smooth.

Everything was smooth.

The housekeeper came back and said Mrs. Ashcroft was resting, and would I leave my card.

I left it.

I drove home with my hands tight on the wheel and the word Friday going round in my head.

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