He squeezed my fingers gently.

“Then he has nothing to worry about, and neither do you.”

By eight o’clock that evening, the glass mansion was completely quiet, filled only with the faint hum of the central heating.

We sat on the edge of the king-size mattress in the master suite, folding fresh white cotton sheets from the laundry basket between us.

Daniel smoothed a pillowcase against his knee with precise, practiced strokes.

“Chloe called me while you were in the garden,” I said, tucking the edges of a fitted sheet into a neat square.