Cracks

The morning after the gala, my phone wouldn't stop buzzing.

I turned it off, then switched it back on, hoping the alerts would stop.

There were twenty-three missed calls and forty-seven texts—most from numbers I didn't know.

One was from Sophie.

Please give me a call, Aria. I'm concerned. On the internet, people are saying terrible things. I wanted to pick up, to reassure her.

I wanted to hear her voice, to feel less alone.

But Kael would be listening. He monitored everything.

Without replying, I erased the message.

I was dressed at six-thirty. Put on one of the remaining outfits from the stylist. Simple. suitable for getting to know a potential mother-in-law.

When I arrived, Kael was already in the kitchen. He glanced away from his coffee, his gaze sweeping across me.

Assessing.

"Good. You look presentable."

Not nice. Not pretty. Presentable.

"Your mother," I said. "What should I expect?"

"She's traditional. Conservative.

Forty years ago, she married into the Blackwell family, and sh