POV: ClaireThe streetlights of Greenwich Village blurred past the window, rhythmic flashes of amber cutting through the dark interior of the car.I’d just dropped Shannon off at the school gates so she could grab her bike. Now, driving toward the estate alone, the familiar weight of the Desmond name began to settle back onto my shoulders. It felt like returning to a high-security prison after a few hours of parole.Eight p.m.I turned into the long, winding driveway. The grounds were swallowed in shadow; no garden lights, only the cold, automated glow of the porch lamps.I’d hoped they’d be out late. Some charity gala or another soul-sucking dinner in the city. But as the garage came into view, my stomach did a slow, nauseating flip.My father’s black Bentley was already there. The engine gave a faint, metallic tink as it cooled—he hadn’t been home long.Damn it. They were early.I killed the ignition. For a long minute, I just sat there, my fingers white-knuckled against the leather
Last Updated : 2026-05-13 Read more