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After all..after five years behind prison, only taught her that freedom was another kind of cage, just with prettier bars.
A sleek black sedan was parked beyond the prison gates, and the butler who stepped out wore the same immaculate uniform she remembered from her childhood, though his hair had gone completely silver in her absence.
His face was neutral as she approached her.
"Miss Ravyn," he said with a slight bow, his voice carrying none of the warmth she might have once hoped for. "I'm to escort you home."
Home. The word felt foreign on her tongue but Ravyn nodded silently, holding on tight to the small plastic bag containing her few possessions—a change of clothes, a photograph of her sons (a secret she will take to the grave before her family found out), and the worn paperback book that had kept her sane during the darkest months.
She slid into the backseat without a word, noting how the butler's eyes never quite met hers in the rearview mirror.
When the sedan pulled through the wrought-iron gates of the Hawkins estate, Ravyn's breath caught despite herself.
The butler led her through the servants' entrance, which was a small humiliation that was not lost on either of them. Ravyn knew that her biological parents had ordered the butler to treat her nothing more as a servant after all. The butler led her through the corridors that were filled with generations of family portraits dating back 100 years.
When they finally got to the dining room, where Ravyn could hear the sounds of conversation going on, the clanking of cutleries against dishes, she could see her whole family seated around the mahogany table like the picture of a perfect family with no cracks or dark skeletons in the cupboard. They looked up as she entered, and for a moment, time seemed suspended.
Garret Hawkins sat at the head of the table, wearing a suit that probably caused more than what people made in a year. Her biological father—the man whose blood ran through her veins but who had never claimed her as anything more than an obligation.
Beside him, Eleanor Hawkins—her mother in DNA only—maintained her composure gracefully, looking at her with nothing but contempt and scorn.
Nathan Hawkins, her eldest brother, sat in his chair, with the air of a man who had never doubted his place in the world.
Jeremy Hawkins, the middle son and golden boy of the family, sat straighter in his chair. At twenty-eight, he had always been the most eager to please their parents, the one who followed every rule and exceeded every expectation. On his face, were the traces of guilt, which he managed to mask under the distaste that he had for her.
And there, in the place of honor at their mother's right hand, sat Aspen Hawkins. The girl who had stolen her life and was favoured on by everyone in the family.
"Ravyn." Her father's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "You look... different."
"Mr. Hawkins," she replied, her face betraying nothing of the real emotions she felt inside.
A flicker of something—surprise? disappointment?—crossed her father's face at the formal address that she had given him. Eleanor tight Eleanor's lips tightened almost imperceptibly, the only sign that the distance in Ravyn's greeting had found its mark.
"Please," Eleanor said, gesturing to an empty chair that was located at the far end of the table, as far from the family as possible while still technically including her.
"Sit. Maria will bring you something to eat."
Ravyn took her assigned place without complaint, noting how the chair had been set with the second-best china, even on her first day of return, they could not help acting cruel towards her.
The conversation resumed around her as if she were a piece of furniture. Nathan and Jeremy discussed while Eleanor and Aspen talked about upcoming charity galas, and shopping trips.
Meanwhile Ravyn ate the simple meal Maria placed before her, which also was a far cry from the elaborate spread the rest of the family enjoyed and listened in on their conversation, keeping up to date with things that she did not know of.
The old Ravyn would have tried to join the conversation, desperate for any scrap of affection, losing her dignity in the process, but not this time.
"The basement room has been prepared for you," Eleanor announced during a lull in conversation, not bothering to look in Ravyn's direction. "Maria will show you where everything is."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hawkins," she said, and this time Eleanor's hand paused halfway to her wine glass.
The formal address hung in the air between them and Ravyn smirked softly to herself, knowing that if Eleanor spoke up about the title, then it meant her actions to treat them as strangers were hurting them.
After dinner, Ravyn followed Maria down the hallway of corridors to a door she'd never noticed as a child.
The basement room was small but clean, and it was furnished with basic necessities—a single bed, a narrow dresser, a small desk beneath a window that looked out at ground level. It smelled faintly of cleaning products and disuse.
"I'm sorry it's not much, Miss," Maria whispered, her weathered hands smoothing the simple bedspread with nervous energy, not daring to meet my eyes.
"I tried to make it comfortable."
"It's perfect," Ravyn replied, and meant it. After a prison cell, this felt like luxury to her, no roommates, no torture lined up, no more being raped without her permission.
"Thank you for your kindness."
Maria's eyes filled with tears, and she squeezed Ravyn's hand briefly before hurrying away.
She had barely finished unpacking her meager belongings when she heard approaching footsteps and she turned around to see that it was Jeremy who had showed up on her doorway, looking agitated. His hair was disheveled, his tie loosened, and his face flushed with what looked like wine and frustration.
"There's a party tomorrow night at Grandfather's house," he started speaking, leaning against the doorframe as if he owned not just the house but her very existence.
"The family story is that you've been abroad all these years—studying in Europe, traveling, finding yourself. Whatever bullshit sounds believable. You will not, under any circumstances, let them think anything else. Do you understand me?"
Ravyn made a small sound of acknowledgment, it wasn't agreement, or submission. It was more like to indicate that she'd heard him.
The noncommittal response snapped whatever restraint Jeremy had been maintaining.
His face darkened, and before Ravyn could react, he slapped her as she cut her lip, tasting blood in her mouth
"When I speak to you, you answer properly," he snarled, his voice rough with an emotion that she could not identify.
"I'm not some prison guard you can ignore. I'm your brother, and you will show me the respect I deserve."
Ravyn slowly turned her head back to face him, her hand rising to touch the burning spot on her cheek. She did not look at him, as she spoke.
"I apologize, Master Jeremy. It won't happen again."
"I... you..." He struggled for words, clearly unprepared for her complete emotional withdrawal. "Damn it, Ravyn. Why are you acting like this? Like you don't even know me?"
Because I don't, she thought but didn't say. The Jeremy she'd once known, had died the day he helped frame her for murder. This man wearing his face was a stranger who happened to share her blood.
"I understand my place, Master Jeremy," she said instead. "I won't cause any trouble."
Before Jeremy could respond. Aspen appeared at the bottom of the staircase, looking innocent to whoever was gullible enough to see her as an angel.
"Jeremy, what's going on down here?"
"I heard raised voices and thought... oh!" She gasped theatrically as she noticed the red mark on Ravyn's cheek. "What happened? Are you hurt?"She rushed forward with practiced grace, reaching out as if to examine the injury. Ravyn stepped back smoothly, avoiding the touch without making it seem deliberate.
"I'm fine," Ravyn said simply.
"Oh, Ravyn, I've missed you so much," Aspen said, her voice trembling with false emotion. "These years without you have been so hard. I kept hoping you'd write, or call, or... something. I know things were difficult before you left, but I always considered you my sister, no matter what anyone else said.""That's very kind of you to say, Miss Aspen," Ravyn replied, her tone neutral and polite.
The formal address had the desired effect. Aspen's mask slipped for just a moment, revealing a flash of fury that she quickly covered with a look of hurt confusion.
"Miss Aspen?" she repeated, her voice breaking slightly. "Ravyn, why are you being so cold? We're family."
"Perhaps," Aspen continued, stepping closer despite Ravyn's obvious desire for distance, "we could talk privately? Sister to sister? I feel like there's so much we need to catch up on."
"I don't think that's necessary," Ravyn said calmly. "I'm quite tired from the journey."
"Of course," she said softly, masking her anger underneath her act of feeling dejected."You must be exhausted. We can talk tomorrow, before the party. I have so many things I want to share with you. I just... I hope you can forgive me for whatever you think I've done wrong. I never wanted us to be strangers."
With that, she turned and walked away while Jeremy lingered for a moment longer, his expression conflicted.
"The party is at seven," he said finally. "Don't make us look bad."
Then he too was gone, leaving Ravyn alone in her basement sanctuary.
Chapter 190 — RecognitionThey found themselves alone eventually, almost an hour later, both of them drifting out onto the back porch at roughly the same moment, the noise of the dinner party muffled now behind the closed door, the evening air cool and quiet around them."I really am sorry," Cole said, leaning against the porch railing, not looking directly at her, the specific posture of someone who'd learned, somewhere — it was easier to say hard things when you weren't looking right at the person you were saying them to. "For not reaching out sooner. I keep thinking about it and the excuses all sound thinner every time I say them out loud.""You were a kid when I left," Ravyn said. "You're not responsible for what happened to me, Cole. You don't owe me an apology for being thirteen and far away.""Maybe not," he said. "But I'm not thirteen anymore, and I've been back in the country for weeks now, and I still hadn't called you before tonight. That part's on me."She didn't answer r
Chapter 189 — Cole Shows UpThe dinner had been Eleanor Hawkins's idea — a small, casual gathering at the family house, nothing formal, just an excuse to have everyone in one room while Cole was still home for the brief window between his academic term abroad and whatever came next. Ravyn had been invited, technically, the way she was always technically invited to these things, with the specific understanding that her attendance was optional and nobody would be especially surprised if she found a reason to decline.She'd nearly declined. She'd told herself, packing R off to Jana's for the evening with the same careful cover story she always used, that there wasn't any real reason to go — except that Eleanor had asked specifically, gently, in the particular tone that meant she actually wanted Ravyn there rather than simply performing the obligation of inviting her, and some small, stubborn part of Ravyn had decided, after the call with Nathan, that she wasn't going to let her family's
Chapter 188— What Aspen SawAspen was halfway through recounting the King's Race to a friend over lunch — the spectacle of it, the explosion, the absurd, delicious drama of watching a legendary masked driver nearly die in front of two thousand witnesses — when something in her own retelling caught against a detail she hadn't fully examined until she heard herself say it out loud."And there was this woman near the bar," she said, almost as an aside, barely registering the words as they left her mouth. "In green. Something about the way she carried herself looked—" She stopped, frowning slightly, the thought arriving fully formed and uninvited. "Honestly, for a second, I thought it looked like Ravyn."Her friend laughed. "Ravyn Hawkins? At an underground race? I can't imagine anything less likely.""No," Aspen agreed, already shaking her head, dismissing the thought as quickly as it had arrived. "It's not possible. She's far too — careful, I suppose, for something like that. Too corpor
Chapter 187 — Alyssa's PartyThe venue Alyssa had chosen for her birthday occupied the top floor of a hotel overlooking the river, the kind of space designed specifically to make two hundred guests feel like they were attending something more significant than a birthday — string lights woven through every available surface, a string quartet playing something elegant and unobtrusive near the windows, the specific controlled extravagance of a woman who had spent six weeks ensuring every detail reflected exactly the image she wanted the evening to project.Jayce arrived at eight, as instructed, in the suit she'd specified weeks ago when the party was still attached to an engagement that no longer existed in any meaningful sense, and found her almost immediately, stationed near the entrance greeting guests with the particular bright, performed warmth she'd perfected for exactly this kind of audience."You came," she said, when he reached her, her smile not quite reaching her eyes."I said
Chapter 186Eleanor was in the garden when Jayce found her, kneeling beside a bed of late-blooming roses with the focused, unhurried attention she brought to most things she cared about, gloves on, secateurs in hand, the particular peace of a woman who used gardening as a place to think rather than simply a place to grow flowers.She looked up when his shadow fell across the bed. "You look tired.""Long week," he said, which was, if anything, an understatement."Sit," she said, nodding toward the bench a few feet away, and continued working while he settled onto it, the silence between them comfortable in the way that only existed between people who'd known each other their whole lives."I wanted to talk to you," he said, after a while."I assumed," she said, not looking up from the rose she was carefully deadheading. "You have a particular way of finding me when you have something to say. You wait until I'm doing something with my hands. Easier to talk to someone who isn't looking di
Chapter 185Dante woke up feeling like he'd been run through a car wash that used fists instead of brushes. Every muscle he hadn't consciously used in years had apparently decided, sometime overnight, to register a formal complaint, and his shoulders — both of them, the dislocated one and its apparently sympathetic twin — ached with the specific deep, structural soreness that came from holding a steering wheel in a death grip for six miles while expecting, every second, to die.He was fine. He kept reminding himself of that fact as he eased himself upright in bed, wincing at the protest from his lower back. He'd walked away clean. No new injuries, no stitches, nothing broken. Just the body's slow, indignant accounting of everything it had been asked to do under duress.He made it as far as the bathroom mirror before R found him."Papa," R said, appearing in the doorway in his dinosaur pajamas, hair sticking up in three directions, regarding his father with the particular scrutiny of a







