(Scene: Ashcroft Hall glows under a cloudless autumn sky. Ivy clings to red brick, roses bloom obediently. Evelyn descends the staircase, her silk gown whispering. The foyer smells of beeswax and bergamot. Higgs bows, his brass cufflinks glinting. Sunlight catches the stained-glass coat of arms above—a serpent coiled around a star. Evelyn’s smile is warm, but her shadow stretches too far, clawed and quivering.)

Evelyn: (voice honeyed, layered with distant chimes) Welcome home, my love. (Her kiss leaves frost on your cheek, melting instantly.) Higgs has decanted the ’68 port. Let me show you the conservatory—the orchids have missed you.