LOGINShe looked down at the envelope again. I knew she was interested. People could pretend to be principled all they wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that money made certain decisions easier. I leaned forward. “Tell me about Claire’s university years.” Caroline didn’t hesitate for long before she began talking. She told me how they had both been broke. How Claire had worked hard to earn her qualifications, and how determined she had been to succeed. Boring. All that useless information only made me more irritated by Claire. But I listened patiently regardless. Then I asked the most useful question—men. “Did Claire date anyone at university?” Caroline shrugged. “One or two.” “Only one or two?” “She wasn’t exactly a nun,” Caroline sneered. I smiled. “I’m relieved to hear it.” Caroline laughed. “She had a boyfriend in high school.” She paused to take a sip of her drink. “They were together for a long time, from what she told me. After that relationship ende
I arrived at the café twenty minutes late—deliberately, of course. There was something satisfying about making people wait for me, particularly when they needed something I could provide. I was wearing enormous sunglasses, a silk scarf wrapped around my hair, and a boring outfit that concealed enough of my appearance to discourage anyone from recognizing me immediately. I had selected the café carefully. It was far enough from the courthouse to avoid the reporters who had been following the trial, but it was public enough that meeting there wouldn’t attract suspicion. Besides, if anyone recognized me, I could always pretend I was simply having coffee. I spotted Caroline almost immediately. She was seated near the window, her short blonde hair falling over her shoulders. A handbag was resting on the chair beside her. I paused to observe her. She looked exactly as I remembered from the photographs: Unremarkable. A little bit tacky. The sort of woman who probably spent
I wanted Hart Sullivan dead. Not imprisoned. Not disgraced. Not sitting in a courtroom, looking remorseful while he dismantled everything I had spent years building. Dead. I sat on my sofa with a glass of red wine in my hand, watching the news coverage of his testimony on the television. A mugshot of his stupid, crooked face filled the screen. Hart Sullivan, the man who had once sworn he would do anything for me, was now the prosecution’s star witness. How touching. The reporter’s voice droned on about the significance of his testimony, the incriminating messages recovered from his phone, and the mounting evidence the prosecution had gathered against me. Then they showed a clip from the courtroom. Hart sat in the witness box, answering questions with an expression I had seen on him before several times in the past. Resolve. This time, the bastard actually looked determined to tell the truth. I tightened my grip on my glass. The truth? What truth? That I
By the time we returned to the Dhark mansion that evening, Camilla already knew. Lucian had sent her a text along with picture attachments of the house. He claimed he hadn’t told her earlier because he feared she might be too excited to keep the secret from me. He wasn’t wrong. We had barely stepped through the front door before Camilla appeared from the hallway with a look that told me she had been waiting for us. “So,” she began. I smiled. “So?” “You bought a house.” Lucian shrugged. “I wish I could have told you earlier.” Camilla crossed her arms. “Me too, Mr. Dhark. I can’t believe you don’t trust me!” Lucian and I broke into fits of laughter. “Camilla.” “And now I’m apparently in charge of choosing which staff members are going with you and which ones are staying here.” “Sounds like fun,” I said. “I’ll help.” She pointed at Lucian. “It’s okay, Lucian already gave a list.” “That sounds like…” I looked at Lucian. “A lot.” Lucian looked offended.
“I want to know where our bedroom is.” In the Dhark mansion, Lucian and I had mostly slept in different bedrooms. That would change here. Something changed in his expression. It was small—barely there. But I saw it. The smile that touched his mouth wasn’t the confident, arrogant smile he wore when he was getting his way. It was softer. Almost boyish. “Our bedroom?” he repeated. I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t make me regret saying it.” “I wouldn’t dare.” He reached for my hand. I smiled as his fingers slipped between mine, warm and familiar, and he led me toward the staircase. I followed him upstairs. The house felt different now. Maybe because I had stopped looking at it as a strange house. I was starting to imagine it as ours. The thought was terrifying, but strangely comforting. We reached the top of the stairs, and Lucian opened the first door on the right. “This is it.” I stepped inside and stopped. Although the master bedroom was enormous, it some
“We could renovate.” I said quietly. Lucian looked at me. “I mean the Dhark mansion.” I wiped another tear from my cheek. “We could change things.” He didn’t interrupt. “I know what that house means to you. Memories of your mother, your childhood...” He nodded. “All the beautiful memories you have there there.” I squeezed his hand. “I don’t want you to lose that because of me.” Lucian stared at me for a moment, then he smiled. “You’re the one who taught me that my mother’s memories aren’t trapped inside those walls,” he said. “You told me that on my birthday, remember?” He placed my hand on his chest. “You reminded me that she lives in my heart.” My eyes filled with tears again as I nodded. “She does.” “I know.” He glanced around the room. “And that’s why I don’t need the mansion to keep her.” I stayed silent. Lucian continued. “The truth is, Claire, the mansion isn’t only filled with good memories for me either.” I watched his jaw clench. That’s how I kne







