Masuk
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 104Ravyn matched his professionalism, kept her responses concise and relevant, didn't acknowledge the marks on her neck or the morning he'd inadvertently witnessed.Strategic avoidance. It was working perfectly.Until Sarah buzzed to announce that the Archer Industries representatives had arrived early and were waiting in the conference room."That's our cue," Rhys said, standing and adjusting his tie with practiced precision. "Ready?""Ready," Ravyn confirmed, gathering her materials and following him toward the conference room.But when they entered, Ravyn's carefully maintained composure cracked slightly at the sight of who exactly was waiting for them.Miles, obviously. Conrad and Catherine Archer. Several executives she didn't recognize.And Aspen.Her sister sat at the far end of the conference table, perfectly groomed and professionally dressed, wearing an expression of concerned sympathy that Ravyn immediately recognized as performance."Ravyn!" Aspen exclaimed, stand
Chapter 103Dante watched her dress with something like concern. "You're going to a meeting with Miles today," he said. It wasn't a question."I am," Ravyn confirmed, deliberately adjusting her collar to make sure the marks were visible. "Meeting about the Archer Industries partnership. Miles will definitely be there.""And you want him to see," Dante said, understanding. "You want him to know that you're not pining for him. That you're very thoroughly involved with me. That he lost.""That he lost," Ravyn agreed. "That he doesn't own me. That I've moved on in ways that are physical and real and none of his business.""Be careful," Dante warned. "Miles is—he's not stable when it comes to you. Seeing you marked up like this, knowing we spent the night together, knowing we just had sex this morning—that's going to push him. Make him do something reckless.""Good," Ravyn said coldly. "Let him do something reckless. Let him show everyone what kind of person he really is—possessive, contro
Chapter 102The shower was running hot enough to steam up the small bathroom, water cascading down in a steady rhythm that provided white noise cover for any sounds that might emerge. Ravyn stood under the spray, letting the heat work into muscles that were sore from tension and stress and too many hours hunched over computers.She was so focused on the water, on trying to release some of the anxiety coiled in her chest, that she didn't hear the bathroom door open. Didn't register Dante's presence until she felt his hands on her waist, pulling her back against his chest."Jesus," she gasped, starting to turn around. "You scared me—"But Dante was already moving, his mouth finding her neck, his teeth grazing skin with the kind of deliberate pressure that would leave marks. His hands roamed her body with purpose—not the careful, performative touches they usually employed for their cover story, but something more genuine, more urgent, more real."What are you doing?" Ravyn breathed, thou
Chapter 101"But we should verify," Orion had said. "We should be watching more carefully. Monitoring her activities. Making sure she's not creating exposure we haven't anticipated."Rhys had wanted to refuse. Wanted to insist that monitoring Ravyn would be a violation of trust, an inappropriate invasion of privacy, exactly the kind of suspicious micromanagement that would drive away talented employees.But Phoenix and Orion were right. If Ravyn was using Larsen Enterprises as cover for illegal activities—however justified those activities might be—he needed to know. Needed to protect his company, his employees, his son."Fine," he'd conceded. "But subtly. I don't want her feeling like she's under surveillance. I don't want to damage the working relationship we've established. Just—pay attention. Note anything concerning. And report back to me if you see patterns that suggest ongoing illegal activity.""Agreed," Phoenix had said. Then, with obvious reluctance: "Now can we address the
Chapter 100Someone had made sure Larsen Enterprises wasn't implicated. Someone had provided documentation showing they'd declined to partner with Chen. Someone who'd had access to information about yesterday's meeting, who'd known the partnership structures being discussed, who'd understood exactly what evidence would be needed to protect the company.Someone like Ravyn."That's good," Ravyn had said. "That's—that's very good news. Thank you for letting me know."Her voice had been steady, professional, appropriate. But Phoenix was shaking his head more vigorously now, was writing something and showing it to Orion, who'd nodded in agreement."Of course," Rhys had said, trying to maintain professional distance despite the awkwardness of this entire situation. "I should let you get back to your morning. We can discuss the implications at the office. Maybe aim for nine instead of eight, given that you're—clearly otherwise occupied.""Nine is fine," Ravyn had agreed, and was that relief
Chapter 99*My girlfriend*. The casual possessiveness of that statement had hit Rhys harder than he'd expected. Girlfriend. Which meant Dante had spent the night with Ravyn. Which meant they were at that stage of their relationship. Which meant Rhys's complicated feelings about her were even more futile than he'd already known they were.Phoenix had been making rapid notes on a tablet, his expression intent. Orion had been watching Rhys's face, reading his reactions, cataloging his emotional responses."I—this is Rhys Larsen," Rhys had managed, forcing his voice into professional neutrality. "Ravyn's employer. I need to speak with her about a work matter. It's somewhat urgent.""Right, of course," Dante had said. "Hold on, let me—"There had been sounds then. Bed rustling. Movement. Dante's voice, quieter but still audible: "Ravyn. Ravyn, wake up. Your boss is on the phone."A female voice, thick with sleep and confusion: "Who is it?""Your boss," Dante had repeated. "Rhys Larsen. He
Chapter 48"I don't know," Aspen said, moving toward the door with deliberate casualness. "I'm just saying, hypothetically, that people who have things to hide should be very careful about making enemies. Especially enemies who have access to resources, connections, and the kind of determination to
Chapter 49The room was as secure as Ravyn could make it given the circumstances. She'd spent the better part of two hours conducting a sweep that would have impressed most professional security consultants—checking electrical outlets for hidden cameras, running her hands along picture frames and l
Chapter 46Rhys studied her for a long moment, clearly not satisfied with that answer but seemingly willing to accept it. "Fine. But Orion will pick you up every morning and drop you off every evening. That way, at least your family can't limit your movements or prevent you from coming to work.""T
Chapter 42The bathroom at Larsen Enterprises was nothing like the sterile corporate restroom at Hawkins Industries. This one was elegant without being ostentatious—marble countertops, soft lighting, actual art on the walls. Even the soap smelled expensive, some combination of cedar and citrus that







