Chapter 113 A Chance Meeting with the Davis Family

Chapter 113 A Chance Meeting with the Davis Family
Once Julian stepped away, Lila slipped back to Cora without hesitation.

Cora felt a flicker of guilt. “Lila, I’m a bit tired. Could I rest somewhere quieter? I don’t want to keep you from your guests.”

“Of course.” Lila smiled. “It’s crowded and loud out here. Come to my room—it’s the calmest spot in the house.”

Cora rose, and Winny fell in behind them. As they walked the corridor, Cora took in the house with a low whistle. “The Mayers don’t do anything halfway. This address alone… people were losing their minds when a ‘mystery buyer’ snapped up a whole estate here. I never imagined I’d end up inside it.”

“My brother planned for this city a long time,” Lila said mildly. “He was ready.”

In Lila’s room, a maid opened the door and withdrew. The space was elegant, feminine, and spare—clearly newly set up.

“If you need anything, call,” Lila said. “I’ll be nearby.”

“Go play hostess,” Cora told her, smiling. When the door closed, she settled into a chair with Winny’s help and let the quiet soak in.

Winny lowered her voice. “Why not let Lila stay? She clearly wants to take care of you.”

Cora sighed. “Because I won’t monopolize her. She’s the hostess—and Liam’s +1 tonight. If she hovers over me, I’ll owe the Mayers a favor the minute the ink’s dry on their deal with Julian. That puts him in a corner.”

Winny’s eyes warmed. “You really think about Mr. Watson first.”

“And,” Cora added wryly, “if I sit out there any longer, I’m a moving target for bored socialites. Julian can wrangle his own fan club.”

To kill time, Cora drifted to a slim open bookcase and pulled a hardcover at random. The room felt too big for how little it held, the kind of emptiness that echoes. She opened the book’s flyleaf—and stopped.

To Lila—may your years be gentle. May you be well.
Signed: Qara.

It was one of Qara’s books. The author line read: Qara Davis.

So she wrote, too. Cora flipped to the preface. The prose was clean and tender, a voice that felt like a hand on your shoulder. Then a line snagged her breath:

I don’t know why, but I’m certain I have a sister somewhere in the world. If I can’t be there for her, this book is for her—so she’ll know I wanted to be.

A strange shiver went through Cora. You’re not related, she reminded herself. Coincidence. Nothing more. And yet, the words hummed under her skin. She kept reading, slipping into the rhythm of a gentle older sister laying out small, practical mercies for life.

Footsteps clipped in the hall. A woman’s warm voice floated in: “Lila? I told you I’d—”

Silence, sharp as a cut.

Cora and Winny looked up. A graceful woman in her forties stood in the doorway, eyes locked to Cora’s face—then brimming over. Tears slid before she seemed to notice they’d begun.

Cora set the book down and rose carefully with Winny’s help. “I’m so sorry. Lila offered me a quiet place to rest. I didn’t mean to intrude—”

The woman crossed the room in a rush, checked herself at the sight of Cora’s belly, then hugged her from the side, face pressed to Cora’s shoulder as she shook with silent sobs.

What is happening? Cora stilled, startled. Winny moved to separate them, but Cora lifted a hand. Let her… Something about the grief felt raw and old, and it tugged at Cora’s better instincts.

When the woman finally loosened her hold, Cora passed her a tissue.

“I—s-sorry,” the woman managed, voice rough. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s all right,” Cora said gently. “I’m Cora. And you are…?”

“My name is Evelyn Davis,” she said, eyes reddened. “Qara’s aunt.”

Davis. Of course.

“Please, sit,” Cora said, embarrassed by her own awkwardness.

Evelyn’s gaze dropped—softening at Cora’s abdomen. “Four months?”

“Almost,” Cora said, smiling despite herself. “It feels like it changes every day.”

Evelyn dabbed her eyes. “Forgive me. I came to bring jewelry for Lila—she loves Davis pieces. I was in town on business. When I opened the door and saw you I—” Her voice broke. “You look so much like her. If my brother and sister-in-law saw you, they’d… well. May I ask how old you are?”

“Twenty-five,” Cora said evenly. She could feel where the questions were headed; she’d had to practice this.

Evelyn’s eyes sparked with something like hope.

Cora cut it off softly, kindly. “There’s no relation. It has to be coincidence.”

Heels clicked fast in the corridor. Lila’s voice followed, scolding the staff: “I told you, when my aunt arrives, bring her to the front—why did you—”

“Lila!” Evelyn called quickly, half-laughing, half-crying. “Don’t blame them. I insisted. This one’s on me.”