There was a heavy, suffocating silence on the other end for thirty seconds. Then, Michael's voice came through, colder than the winter wind.
"Whose children is those Evelyn?"
I'll ask you one last time: Whose children are those?"
Evelyn looked out at the dark city, her knuckles white as she gripped the railing. "Mr. Thorn, don't you already know? They are mine.
The silence on the line was deafening. After Evelyn's admission, the only sound was the crackle of the long, distance connection and the distant chirping of crickets in the Sin Estate garden.
"You and whose children?" Michael's voice finally broke through, low and sharp, like a blade cutting through the night air.
Evelyn looked up at the stars. They were blinking brightly, a silent promise that tomorrow would be a clear day, even if her own life was full of secrets.
"Is it important, Mr. Thorn? Don't you also have children of your own to worry about?"
