At noon, when the sisters returned home, the heavy, savory aroma of rendered fat and toasted spices greeted them at the gate.
"You're back. The meal is ready," Evan said, sitting relaxed at the wooden table. He looked domestic and devastatingly handsome, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that were still damp from the steam of the kitchen.
Maya marched in, grinning broadly, swinging a massive hunk of raw pork by a hooked string. "Brother-in-law, look! I bought a real prize today."
"So much? That's at least two kilograms," Evan said, standing up to inspect the meat. In this world, meat was a luxury, a symbol of a household that was thriving. "It looks fresh. It'll be perfect once it's seasoned." He looked at Maya, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Why the sudden generosity? Did you find a bag of gold on the road?"
Maya laughed, a sharp, dangerous sound. "Something like that. I met a certain someone who wanted to bully my sister. I scared her just a little, and she was so busy running away that she dropped her purse. Consider it a 'harassment tax.'"
"Who was looking for trouble?" Evan turned his gaze toward Elara, his voice dropping an octave, becoming suddenly protective.
"It's nothing. Just typical market chatter," Elara said, her eyes darting away, refusing to meet his stare.
"It was Sophia," Maya interjected, her voice echoing Evan's protective heat.
"Sophia? The Sophia Sterling?" Evan's pupils dilated. He touched his chin, his mind racing through the plot of the novel he remembered. A cold, calculating light flickered in his eyes. "Did she come for you so fast?"
"What do you mean 'so fast'?" Maya asked, tilting her head. "Does my brother-in-law know that rich vulture?"
Evan nodded slowly. "I've heard of her. She has a reputation for taking what she wants. Why was she picking on Elara?"
"I don't know," Maya grumbled. "I asked on the way back, but my sister's mouth is locked tight."
"Maya, enough. Go and store the meat in the cellar before the heat spoils it," Elara commanded, desperately trying to change the subject.
"Fine, fine. I'm going." Maya disappeared toward the back of the house.
Elara sat at the table and picked up her chopsticks, eating with a stiff, expressionless face. Evan sat beside her, his thigh brushing against her hip—a contact that made her hand tremble for a split second.
"What happened, Elara? Why is Sophia Sterling targeting you?"
"Nothing. Just eat," she said, her voice brittle.
Evan didn't push further, but he didn't need to. He knew exactly why a woman like Sophia would be hunting Elara. It wasn't about the cakes. It was about him—the "prize" the crippled baker had somehow snatched from the elite's fingers.
In the afternoon, Evan began processing the pork. He moved with a practiced grace that Elara found herself watching from the corner of her eye. After parboiling the meat, he asked her to help him dice it into small, finger-sized cubes.
"Do we have any meat spices?" Evan asked, rummaging through the sparse cupboards. "Anything with a kick?"
"We're out," Elara said, her hands busy with the knife. "Go to Mrs. Gable's house next door. She always has a hoard of spices. She'll let you borrow some."
"Okay. I'll be right back."
Evan stepped out into the humid afternoon air. When he reached Mrs. Gable's door, he found it slightly ajar. Voices drifted out—sharp, hungry voices.
"Gable, the man you told me about... he's just not enough," a woman's voice complained. "Can't you find someone better looking? Someone with some actual meat on his bones?"
"Oh, my dear Miss Ann," Mrs. Gable's raspy voice chuckled. "All the truly stunning men are locked away in the manors of the rich—especially in Sophia Sterling's bed. The ones I found you are top-tier for a commoner."
"That Sophia is a glutton," the woman, Ann, hissed. "She's had seven or eight husbands and concubines, and she's still prowling. It's disgusting."
"Hush now, someone's coming."
Evan pushed the door open. Mrs. Gable stood up instantly, her face twisting into a mask of grandmotherly sweetness. She hurried over, her wrinkled hands reaching out to grab Evan's arm, her fingers lingering on his bicep with a touch that felt like a crawling insect.
"If it isn't the Ashcroft's handsome husband! What brings a beauty like you to my doorstep?"
"Elara bought meat," Evan said, his voice smooth but distant. "I wanted to prepare a special meal, but we're short on spices. I was hoping to borrow some, Mrs. Gable."
"Oh, such a dutiful husband! Of course, of course. Stay right here, I'll fetch them." She scurried into the back room.
While he waited, the other woman, Ann, stood up. She walked around Evan like she was inspecting a stallion at auction. Her eyes were dark with a predatory hunger, roaming over his chest and the curve of his jaw.
"So, you're the one," Ann purred. "The famous Evan. The beauty that the whole kingdom is talking about."
"Is there a problem?" Evan asked indifferently.
"No problem at all," she said, stepping closer until he could smell her cloying perfume. "I heard the rumors, but seeing you in the flesh... you really are a masterpiece. It's such a tragedy, really. A man like you, shackled to a short, limping baker? It's a waste of good skin."
Evan's face turned to stone. "I'm just an ordinary man, Miss. And I'm perfectly happy where I am."
"Hehe, sure you are. But you could do so much better. You could marry someone who actually knows how to—"
Before she could finish, Mrs. Gable returned, handing Evan a small paper bag. "Here you go, dearie. Make sure it's tasty."
"Thank you, Mrs. Gable. I'll make sure you get a taste," Evan said. He turned and left, his polite smile vanishing the moment he hit the threshold, replaced by a cold, calculating mask.
Inside the house, Ann watched his retreating figure through the window, her breath hitching. "God, he's stunning. I'd give anything to be his wife. Why does that cripple get all the luck? It's like a fairy fell from the sky and landed right in her lap."
Mrs. Gable chuckled darkly. "Luck? It was a curse, girl. The Black family wanted to humiliate him by giving him to the most useless woman in town. Elara was just the lowest bar they could find."
"I don't care about the reason," Ann whispered, her eyes fixed on the sway of Evan's hips as he walked away. "I just want him. If I could have him for just one night... if I could feel that body under mine, I'd be willing to die."
"Is that so?" Mrs. Gable's eyes rolled with a greedy light. "Do you have the guts to actually take what you want?"
"How?" Ann asked, turning back with desperate excitement. "The Ashcroft sisters are always there. Especially Maya. She'd snap my neck before I could get his pants off."
Mrs. Gable leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial rasp. "Maya's at the barracks all day. Elara's at the market. From mid-morning until evening, that boy is all alone in that house. Elara is an idiot—she actually pays me to 'watch over' him. Well... maybe my eyes will be a bit tired tomorrow. Maybe I'll need a long nap."
Ann's eyes lit up. She pulled out a handful of silver coins and pressed them into Mrs. Gable's palm. "For your 'medicine,' Mrs. Gable. To help you sleep soundly."
Mrs. Gable pocketed the silver, her grin widening. "Happy to cooperate, dearie. But remember... after you've had your fun with him, leave a little something for this old body, too. I might be old, but I still remember how to enjoy a prize like that."
The two women laughed, a high, screeching sound of shared malice.
They didn't notice the shadow outside the window. Evan had paused, his hand gripping the spice bag so hard the paper crinkled. He had heard every word.