Chapter 2: The Right Question
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Maya's shock cracked open into something uglier.
"You have no idea what you just did," Maya hissed, her voice low and shaking.
"That bag cost more than your monthly pension, you bitter old woman."
A few guests flinched.
Someone near the back quietly set down their champagne.
Evelyn didn't blink.
"And that cake," Evelyn said calmly, "took the baker three days to make.
It was for your husband's birthday.
Not yours.
Never yours."
Maya laughed — short and sharp, like a warning shot.
"Daniel doesn't care about a cake.
Daniel cares about me.
Ask him yourself."
Everyone turned.
But Daniel wasn't where he'd been standing ten minutes ago.
He was gone.
One of the older aunts whispered something to the woman beside her.
A younger cousin slipped her phone into her pocket too quickly.
And Evelyn — for just one second — glanced toward the garden gate with an expression nobody could quite read.
Not anger.
Not triumph.
Something closer to grief.
"Where is he, Evelyn?" Maya's voice climbed higher.
"Where did your precious son go?"
Evelyn looked back at her slowly.
"That," she said, "is exactly the right question."
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What Evelyn knew about Daniel — and why she'd been waiting all afternoon to say it — will change everything you think you know about this story.
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