The Tang family dining room, a chamber that had recently doubled as a set for a low-budget action movie, was now pristine. The long, heavy oak table that Everly had so creatively used as a barricade against a flurry of knives and bullets had been unceremoniously hauled away and replaced with an identical, unblemished one. It was as if the violent, chaotic battle had never happened, a testament to the Tang family's ability to throw money at their problems until they disappeared.
But the room itself remembered. The silence that now settled over the breakfast table was heavier, more suffocating than the usual Tang family brand of cold indifference. Four days had passed since the "incident," and the atmosphere had curdled into something truly miserable.
Usually, Everly would be engaged in a whispered commentary with Alan. But Alan was gone. He'd flown abroad yesterday for some big-shot fashion show, leaving Everly to fend for herself in this silent wasteland of privilege and brooding.
