Chapter 5:he Test Run

The following day was the day we attended Evelyn's invitation.

Evelyn's dining room was the type of space that encouraged people to sit up taller, speak more quietly, and act as if they fit in—even when they truly didn't.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling like a thorny crown, shining like an oak table that appeared large enough to accommodate a royal feast.

Every chair was decorated and positioned to entertain the visitors.

Each plate is arranged with accuracy. Even the napkins adorned with her family emblem—were folded so neatly they seemed like they could support themselves.

I got there ten minutes after the scheduled time. Not for a reason, but perhaps unconsciously. I spent those ten minutes in my car, holding onto the steering wheel, imagining every step of my plan.

I was not comfortable with My second-hand dress, which felt rough on my skin, and I could still detect the lingering smell of cigarette smoke from the guy close to me in the Uber. Ideal.

When I entered through the double doors, I found out that Sam was already sitting waiting for me to show up.

Sam stood up immediately, his gleaming smile shimmering beneath the chandelier's glow. His custom black suit appeared to be worth more than my last three rent payments together.

"You're late," he said softly, with his voice sounding a blend of humor and caution.

"Traffic," I murmured in response, forcing a tight smile, even though we both recognized the bitterness of the lie.

"Lisa," Evelyn's voice pierced the calm murmur of talk like a blade.

She positioned herself at the head of the table, her soft pink blouse chic, subtle, and meant to exude old money.

She sat down looking at me. My dear, "How delightful it is to have you with us."

"Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. McAllister," I said, maintaining a soft voice.

"Oh, do call me Evelyn," she stated, although her tone indicated otherwise.

Sam drew out the chair next to him for me to sit, the action rehearsed yet heartfelt.

I took a seat, sensing the pressure of everyone gazing at my eyes around the table.

Evelyn's visitors, who were presented in a group of social figures and business contacts, were all dressed to perfection. Everyone sat down and enjoyed cool music.

Their courteous smiles concealed curiosity—some amiable, some not.

The meal began with wine. A rich crimson poured into delicate glasses that made me worry they could break if I grasped them incorrectly.

I was full of carefulness, attempting not to make any mistakes.

Evelyn lifted hers in a toast. "To fresh starts," she stated, her gaze fixed on me steadily.

"To fresh starts," I repeated, lifting my glass. The wine scorched as it descended, yet I remained unfazed.

The first dish was served, and Evelyn immediately began her task.

"Lisa," Her voice was sharp, yet intentional, "Sam informed me immediately that you're in marketing." "Freelancing, is that correct?"

Let's get started. I nodded, carefully slicing through the salad on my plate with intention. As my face was straight to the salad.

"That's correct." Primarily independent contractor agreements. "It occupies my time."

"How intriguing," she remarked, her voice laced with just enough doubt to make it hurt.

"I suppose that I create a considerable amount of free time for you between projects?"

I grinned, maintaining a blank expression. "Not to the extent that you might imagine."

I flashed my eyes first to check whether her gaze was on me.

I enjoy staying occupied, even during breaks between contracts. "Traveling and exploring new experiences—there's always something to engage in," I said, as I continued slicing through the salad.

"Where was the most recent place you visited?" She asked.

Evelyn's inquiry seemed relaxed at first glance, yet her gaze was keen, observing me like a hawk eyeing its target.

Evelyn's question struck me more intensely than I had anticipated.

The words seemed to get stuck in my throat, suffocating me.

For a brief moment, I thought about falsifying the truth—fabricating a tale of a joyful upbringing and encouraging guardians.

However, Evelyn seems to be too intelligent as I observed her. She might notice it immediately.

"We're not communicating," I finally replied, maintaining a steady tone. "It's… intricate."

Evelyn's grin grew larger, yet it lacked warmth. "That's unfortunate," she remarked, her voice hinting at a subtle tone of superiority.

"Family holds great significance, wouldn't you agree?"

Before I had a chance to reply, Sam leaned in, his voice slicing through the tension like a knife.

"Evelyn," he stated, his voice icy and sharp, "Lisa's history is her concern. "Do you not concur?"

The space was quiet at the moment. Even the other guests, who had been softly chatting amongst themselves, paused to observe our interaction.

Evelyn blinked, her face showing a brief look of surprise.

However, she bounced back swiftly, her smile remaining unwavering.

"Certainly," she replied with no effort, reaching for her glass of wine. "I didn't intend to trust."

Sam's hand lightly touched mine beneath the table, a mute sign of comfort.

I looked at him, my heart constricting. I ought to have felt thankful for his support, but instead, I experienced a surge of irritation. I didn't require him to battle on my behalf. In my thoughts, I need to defend myself

As the night came to a close, the visitors started to leave, their courteous farewells echoing around.

Evelyn bid them farewell with her typical elegance, her smile as radiant as always.

However, when she looked at me again, her face tightened, if only briefly. It was faint, nearly undetectable—but that was sufficient.

Sam took me to my car without saying a word.

As soon as we were out of the hearing space of the house, I faced him.

"She seems to be aware," I said, my tone soft yet resolute.

Sam scowled, his hands moving into his pockets. "Knows which thing?"

"She's already starting to dig," I remarked, turning back to look at the house.

Evelyn's outline could be seen in one of the upper windows, her shadowy shape highlighted by the gentle light of the chandelier. "She not only has suspicions." "She is searching."

Sam's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. "You're overthinking and disturbing yourself too much about this."

Evelyn enjoys scaring people—it's her pastime attitude.

"Don't allow her to influence your thoughts."

"She's not merely challenging me," I asserted, my tone elevating a bit. "She has already discovered something." "I sense it."

Sam exhaled, brushing his fingers through his hair.

"Regardless of whether she has, it makes no difference." "We'll take care of it." So, don't worry about anything.

The certainty in his tone was intended to comfort me, yet it only generated discomfort within me.

Evelyn was not the kind to retreat once she had focused her attention on something—or someone. And this evening, that person was me.

I positioned myself in the driver's seat, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Sam bent down, bringing his face to the window's level. "You performed well this evening," he said softly. "Superior to just fine."

I did not reply. My eyes were focused on the house, the silhouette shifting behind the drapes in Evelyn's upper window.

As I moved away, my mind raced. Evelyn wasn't just testing me anymore.

She was digging, searching for cracks in the story Sam and I had carefully built. And the worst part, is she would find them.

The trial run was completed, and the actual game had just started.

However, Evelyn wasn't being honest, and I wondered how long I could maintain the pretense with Evelyn's investigation.

Now there are two things that I am afraid of. "My pretend and Evelyn's investigation". How do I succeed in the play?