The mansion swallowed me the moment the iron gates closed behind the car.
I sat in the back seat with my hands clenched in my lap, staring at the sprawling stone estate that now belonged to my mother by marriage. Three stories of dark windows and sharp angles, surrounded by woods that looked like they could hide anything. My mother’s new husband, Silas Blackthorn, had paid for everything—the moving trucks, the new clothes, the private driver who hadn’t spoken a single word the entire ride.
I hadn’t asked for any of it.
My father had been dead only six weeks when Mom announced she was remarrying. Six weeks. I still woke up some nights reaching for a voice that wasn’t there anymore. And now I was being delivered like luggage to a house full of strangers who were supposed to be my family.
