Evelyn's POV
The mansion wasn't completely destroyed.
Just the East Wing. Just Isabelle's memorial room. Just the place where I'd found Marcus in bed with my dead sister.
The fire department called it electrical failure. Damien called it a message.
I called it the beginning of the end.
"You need to get dressed." Damien stood in the doorway of our bedroom—separate bedrooms still, though we'd been sleeping in the same room since the coffee shop incident. He refused to let me out of his sight. "The gala starts in two hours."
"We're still going?" I stared at him. "My father just tried to have me committed. Isabelle burned down part of my childhood home. And you want to go to a charity event?"
"I want to show everyone that you're fine. Stable. Happy." His smile was sharp. "And that touching you means war with me."
