LOGINHe leans forward, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial, deeply unsettling whisper as he stares directly into my green contact lenses. "In fact... you don't have to be a maid at all, Candy. I can make all of this manual labor disappear with a single phone call. If you can just agree to be my pri
"Look, Naomi, if Dennise catches you in here, she’s going to—" The distinct, heavy sound of the deadbolt locking echoes through the quiet kitchen. My entire body goes completely rigid. My instincts scream at me, a cold shock of adrenaline instantly shooting straight to my fingertips. That isn't th
I smooth down the front of my oversized, scratchy maid uniform, my fingers tracing the small bruise on my chest from where Caroline's finger violently ripped my dress open at the cemetery yesterday. My skin still feels raw from the humiliation, my eyes are burning from crying all night over Owen, a
The striking, facial structure. Sydney is an absolute, undeniable replica of the woman in the vintage photograph—Tobias’s mother. The almost psychotic protectiveness Tobias has shown toward Sydney from the very first moment he met her. The massive financial safety nets he threw under her, the fact
Before I can even open my mouth to apologize for breaking into his house, Tobias speaks. His voice is incredibly quiet, completely devoid of its usual sharp authority, yet it carries a heavy, haunting weight that pins me right to the carpet. "For years..." he murmurs, his finger continuing its slow
I stand frozen on the gravel path, the engine of Sydney’s departing car roaring in my ears. I watch the taillights of her vehicle bounce over the cemetery threshold, disappearing completely from sight, and with every inch of distance she puts between us, my heart shatters into a million jagged, irre
"So you saw her that day?" The detective’s voice is a low, gravelly drone that usually makes me want to yawn, but today? Today, it’s music to my ears. I’m sitting in the Newton’s private study, the air smelling of aged mahogany and the faint, lingering scent of Grandmother’s favorite lavender sache
The air in the morgue is heavy with the scent of formaldehyde and the crushing weight of finality. I stand over my mother’s body, staring at the pale, waxen stillness of her face. This isn't how it was supposed to end. She was the matriarch, the one who survived the scandals and the secrets, and now
The hum of the tires against the asphalt is the only thing grounding me right now. I’m huddled in the passenger seat of Owen’s car, still shivering so hard my teeth are doing a percussion solo. My head is throbbing where it met that sideboard, and my wrists are raw from the struggle, but strangely
His words hit me like a physical blow to the chest. "I took her from you once." The world starts to tilt. A white-hot flash of light explodes behind my eyes, and suddenly, the dam breaks. The memories don't just return; they flood in with the force of a tidal wave, drowning out the present. I’m b







