hel

ofter and richer than anything I'd ever slept on. For a brief m

caught up w

asn't

too silky, the

m was enormous, bright, elegant, and utterly unfamiliar. Gold drapes f

e memories c

e

de

n Mon

n right after the incident. I must've cri

and, where my phone lay face

a

before I could press the scree

e I could even answer

fectly, and though age had softened his face, his posture carried a quiet strength. H

sers. He looked far more intimidating, with a cold stare and

his voice deep and steady. "You may call me M

usly, unsure w

nd gestured for the younge

, my heart ne

age cer

, as if this were normal. "So Mr. Montrel went ahead

-Rachel Owens and Damien Montrel. The signature of the man who

. "You're seri

Mr. Vance said. "This guara

I stared at the paper until my vision blu

, both men were

matter?" I asked

n, Mrs. Montrel. No need to be anxious. We al

pped and businesslike. "We're to inform you

repeated,

ng man said. "The east wing, however, is restricted. Do not enter. The

ding that "business" meant

limited. You'll require permission to leave the estate, and when you do, our men will

But I have college-an

n't waver. "I'm aware, Mrs. Montrel. But those thing

verything-the paper I'd signed, the rules, the f

forcing my voice st

with the younger man. "Almost. There's

I asked

hed with faint amusement, li

. Vance said. "M

ed. "Hi

ld. You'll find him in the playroom. Master Da

me to follow. My heart pounded as we walked through long, echoing hallways lined

r decorated with stickers and tiny hand-drawn

e," he said quietly. "But he's

to expect. The young

e boy sat on the floor surrounded by colored blocks. He looked

, the fear, even my thoughts. All I saw was thi

hind me. "Mrs. Montrel," he