Lib Novel Page 92
“Of course, dear.” Evelyn’s smile was enigmatic as she lifted her cup, an invitation for me to do the same. “I believe we have much to discuss.”
The delicate fragrance of jasmine tea lingered between us as Evelyn set down her cup, her eyes holding mine. “How are you finding your stay with Nathan?” she asked, her words laced with genuine curiosity.
A flush warmed my cheeks, and I hesitated, cautious to navigate the conversation without offending her. “It’s…different,” I admitted, fiddling with the porcelain handle of my teacup. “I know it’s not traditional, but—“
“Abby, dear,” Evelyn interjected, her tone carrying a dismissive wave, “tradition in our family is more like guidelines than actual rules. We’ve always been a little unorthodox.”
“Unorthodox” seemed like an understatement for living with Nathan Zhou but I wasn’t exactly going to contradict her. The door creaked open, and a server entered, balancing two steaming plates of food. The scent of ginger and scallions wafted over, momentarily distracting me from the tension.
“Set them here, please,” Evelyn directed with a soft smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. As the server complied, arranging the dishes with meticulous care, I noted the subtle shift in Evelyn’s demeanor—the way her gaze followed every movement, sharp and calculating.
“Could you close the door on your way out?” Evelyn requested, her voice carrying an undertone of command that seemed to echo off the walls long after the server had bowed and complied, leaving us enclosed once more in our private sanctuary.
As the latch clicked into place, I felt the air shift, the pretense of casual dining hanging suspended for a moment before the weight of unspoken words pressed in around us. Evelyn turned back to me, her expression unreadable, and I sensed that our real conversation was about to begin.
Evelyn’s eyes darted around the room, not settling on anything in particular, but surveying every corner as if she expected the dragon-embroidered tapestries to come alive and betray her secrets. She leaned across the table, her posture suddenly rigid with urgency.
“Abby,” she whispered sharply, a stark departure from her usual poised tone, “turn off your phone.”
A knot of worry twisted in my stomach. What could be so dire that it required such precautions? Nevertheless, I reached into my bag, fingers closing around the cool metal of my phone. With a press of a button, it went silent, plunging me into an apprehension that seemed far too heavy for the delicate tea room.
“Mine is already off,” Evelyn said, her voice barely above a breath as she placed her own phone beside her plate, screen up–as if she was proving a point. “Show me.”
I hesitantly pulled my phone out and set it down just as she had, proving that I’d turned it off. For a moment, we sat in silence, the only sounds the distant hum of Chinatown and the soft clatter of dishes from the kitchen. Then Evelyn cleared her throat, her next words slicing through the quiet with the precision of a scalpel.
“Abigail,” she began, her gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that felt like a physical touch, “I didn’t ask you here to talk about being a wife or how to pour tea correctly—not that there’s anything wrong with your technique.”
“I didn’t really pour my own—“
She looked at me to cut me off.
“Right. Sorry, you were saying.”
“I asked you here because I have information,” she continued, her voice dropping even lower. “Information about the arsonist who has been terrorizing the Serpents.”
The air between us crackled with the weight of her words. This…I hadn’t expected it at all, but it made sense that she might know something. I’d truly thought she’d brought me here to discuss formalities, then I’d started to think maybe we could sway her to our side in replacing Kenny
Now, though?
It seemed she was far more dangerous than I’d ever suspected.
“You can tell me,” I urged, leaning forward, my role as an FBI agent clawing its way to the forefront of my consciousness. “Do you know who is behind the fires?”
My mind raced through scenarios, linking pieces of gathered intelligence with the puzzle before me. Knuckles, fires, destabilization—all elements in a dangerous game that now teetered on the edge of revelation.
Evelyn leaned in closer, and for a moment, I glimpsed vulnerability in those brown eyes.
“Yes, Abby,” she said simply. “The person behind the fires is me.”
Chapter Forty-Three: Nathan
The stillness of the evening was punctuated only by the rustle of leaves as I tended to my plants, a rare moment of tranquility in a life otherwise dictated by chaos. Abby had left for dinner with Ma, leaving me to revel in the calm that so seldom graced our home. The quiet was unsettling but welcome—a solitary reprieve before the next storm.
A storm I knew would inevitably come.
My fingers worked methodically, pruning and watering with practiced ease, the simple routine a temporary balm for the restless energy that always simmered just beneath my skin. A flicker of movement caught my eye—the shadow of the monstera plant stretching across the floor as if reaching out to remind me that peace was merely an interlude in the symphony of our lives.
The serene moment shattered as my phone vibrated against the table, its insistent buzz slicing through the silence. I wiped my hands on my jeans and checked the caller ID.