The Blackwood estate looked exactly as I remembered it—imposing Georgian architecture surrounded by perfectly manicured grounds, every detail maintained to project power and tradition. But as our car pulled through the wrought-iron gates that had once marked the boundaries of my world, I felt none of the old sense of coming home.
Instead, I felt like a detective returning to a crime scene, armed with knowledge that would finally allow me to see the truth that had been hidden in plain sight.
"Are you sure about this?" Damon asked quietly, his hand finding mine in the back seat of the Bentley. "We could turn around right now, gather more information, approach this with better preparation."
"No," I said firmly, watching the familiar windows of the manor house grow larger as we approached. "I've spent my entire life being prepared for other people's plans. It's time I made some plans of my own."
