from the world. Three days had passed. Three days of a cold war waged within the walls of the townhous

of the Long Island Expressway. She felt nothing. A da

c. The long, formal dining table was laden with a feast of French cuisine, shimmering under the lig

a, began to speak, he reached for Hortense's hand un

ising force. He leaned closer, his voice a venomous whispe

next month. It would be a shame if there were... c

ng. She looked up, met Seraphina's gaze across the table, and produced a perfect, br

sailing, the subtle barbs disguised as compliments. Finally,

er wall, taking a deep breath. She needed a strategy. She was a

icult e

stood by a large porcelain vase, her

pressure at work," Hortense said

row rose a fraction of an inch. "

ision. "Brittni Calhoun paid me a visit," she sa

crossed Seraphina's face. This wasn't about Hortense's feelings. This was about the integrity of the

ou must not worry, my dear," she said, her voice firm. "This family will never,

polite nod. "Than

ot a personal one. She was a placeholder, the official wife, a nec

and went upstairs to the guest suite they were assigned. She walke

tion. Who was this woman? This ghost in a designer dress? She had married Gerhardt believing she co

y in the lock sha

or swu

glass of whiskey in his hand. He had a k

behind him. The small space was sudd

er?" he demanded, his

t the cold tile of the shower wall. "I

Running to my stepmother, whispering poison in her

back, her fear giving way to anger.

wn on the marble vanity, the sound cracking through the quiet.

ruth is you're a pathetic, desperate woman who thinks her

h a pain she could no longer hide. "Why are you doing this, Gerhardt

eyes dark and empty. "Watching you suffer is

ntrol

, aiming for his s

e twisted her arm, using his superior strength to spi

arble edge. A pained gasp escaped her lips, but she bit down hard

r there. She could feel the heat of him, the hea

r-her, trapped and defiant; him, a dark, menacing shadow. For a moment, his expression waver

it wa

ng her head back, and crus

erate, possessive hunger. It tasted of whiskey and self-loathing. There

against his chest. A sob caught in her throat, and she tasted the salt of

, he let

s and the wild, terrified defiance in her eyes. A flicker of what looked

his composure. He turned without another word and str

r. She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking uncontrollably. Water dr

Drip

ded. She looked up at her reflection again. The woman in th

fear w

ng new. Something cold,