Chapter 2

Late that night, I called my grandfather, Charles Watney — my mother's father.

My voice was still hoarse when he answered.

"Grandpa, I'm coming to see you in a few days."

He paused, then broke into a delighted laugh. "Good. Good! I'll have your room prepared again."

His voice softened. "Did someone hurt you? Come home, sweetheart. Whitmore Holdings will be yours one day. Your grandfather will stand behind you."

I tightened my grip on the phone as tears returned, but warmth slowly spread through my chest.

Someone was still waiting for me. Someone still treated me like a treasure.

"Okay. I'm coming home."

I sniffed. "And this time, I'm staying."

The next day, I returned to Hawke Estate to pack.

When I opened my bedroom door, Serena was wearing my silk pajamas.

She stepped aside. My closet stood open, with her dresses filling half the space.

My clothes and textbooks had been dumped onto the floor and kicked against the wall like trash.

I rushed in and tore through the pile with shaking hands.

It wasn't there. I couldn't find it anywhere.

The brown wooden frame held the only photograph I had with my mother.

"Where is the picture frame?"

I turned toward Serena, my voice raw.

She leaned against the door and answered innocently, "I don't know. The house staff cleaned the room."

I reached for my phone. "Emergency dispatch? I need to report—"

Pain shot through my wrist as the phone was snatched away.

Damian twisted my arm behind my back while using his other arm to move Serena behind him.

"Rowan, you've gone too far!"

His jaw tightened. "Serena is a Hawke too. She has every right to live here."

"You failed to take care of your own things. Why are you creating a scene?"

He forced me down onto one knee, and it struck the sharp corner of a book.

I searched the room with my eyes. The missing frame filled me with growing terror.

"Where is it?"

I looked up at him as tears struck the floor. "Damian, where is the picture of my mother?"

He went still, and his grip loosened.

He turned toward Serena. "Where is the frame? It had a photograph of her mother. Why did you touch it?"

Serena's face went white. Her lips trembled. "I... I didn't. When the staff cleaned—"

"Who gave you permission to move that?"

Damian's voice dropped.

"They may have mistaken it for garbage. It went into the collection bin downstairs, so the truck has probably taken it to the county landfill by now."

Serena clutched the hem of her shirt, her voice fading with every word.

I scrambled upright and ran.

I heard Damian's footsteps following me down the stairs.

But the moment I reached the front entrance, Serena gasped behind us. "Damian... my chest hurts..."

His footsteps stopped.

I looked back once.

Damian stood at the top of the stairs, his body angled toward me while his face turned toward Serena.

She leaned against the wall, so pale that the pain didn't look entirely feigned.

He clenched his hands, conflict filling the eyes I knew so well.

Then he turned around and went to support Serena.

I ran in the direction the garbage truck had taken. Cold air tore through my throat.

No footsteps followed me.

Fine. I would find it alone.

My mother was waiting for me to bring her home.

...

The stench of the county landfill sank into my bones.

I searched for an entire day and night until my nails split and blisters opened across my palms.

Just before dawn, I pulled the wooden frame from beneath a heap of broken glass.

I held it against my chest and started back.

Rain caught me halfway home, leaving mud and water streaming from my clothes.

Damian was sitting on the living room couch. Relief crossed his face when he saw me.

He stood. "You're back—"

"Don't come near me!"

I walked straight toward the stairs.

"Rowan!"

He followed me two steps, his voice urgent. "Serena knows she made a mistake. She barely understood what was happening, and the staff threw the things away without asking her. She didn't know. Are you really going to punish her forever for something she didn't intend?"

I stopped.