The ride was quiet. Just the low hum of the engine and the occasional chirp of birds above the sky.
The road curved into private land, the trees were well trimmed, hedges shaped to perfection with a marble statue standing tall. It was so quiet.
And then, the Marris Estate came into view. One of the four great family houses in the nation. The kind of place that didn't whisper power but screamed it all out. Wide, gleaming windows with columns that reached for heaven. The gates themselves were sculpted iron.
We came to a halt before the main courtyard, where expensive cars lined the curved driveway. Music and laughter spilled out from the open windows.
Corwin off the engine. I stepped out of the car. I took in the sight of the people laughing, dancing, indulging in food and celebration. It was a celebration in full swing.
The scene broke my heart. "It hadn't even been a year since Caleb died." "And this is what they call mourning?" I muttered.
"Should I head in, and bring the family heads out for interrogation?" Corwin stood beside me, equally tense.
I stared at the grand double doors ahead. "Do you know what people fear the most?"
He tilted his head, caught off guard. "When they are about to die?"
I shook my head, slow and measured. "No. It's when they want to die... but they can't."
And with that, I started walking, and we made our way through the arched gate.
"Careful with that! That vase is from the Mayor of Westbridge! If you drop it, the old woman will haunt you herself after she kills you. You hear me?"
The butler's voice came into earshot. Two servants were sweating, struggling to carry a gaudy vase wrapped in gold satin. The butler, a tall, sharp man with thinning hair.
But the moment Corwin and I stepped past him, heading toward the entrance of the villa, his voice cut louder again.
"Hey!" he shouted.
"Where do you think you're going?"
We stopped.
He stalked toward us, disgust already creeping into the corners of his face like mold. "Look at you. With those cheap clothes, I doubt you have the coin to pay if you break anything inside."
He sneered. "This isn't some street vendor's shack."
Corwin took a step forward. His hand hovered near his waist, too close to his sidearm.
"Watch your mouth," he growled.
But I didn't let it escalate.
"CORWIN!"
My voice alone was enough to freeze him in place.
He stopped.
I stepped forward, "I am Evander Holt, I'm not here to cause trouble. I came looking for an old friend."
The butler let out a derisive scoff, keeping stride beside me. "Never heard of such a lame name before," he sneered.
"You're not welcome here. Get out before I have you both dragged off the premises."
I didn't spare him a glance, pushing open the heavy front doors and stepping into the marble-floored foyer of the estate. "You're lucky the boss doesn't want to see blood today," Corwin whispered to the butler.
The butler, apparently sputtered, nearly tripping over his own expensive shoes. "Wha—? Get back here! I said get out! You can't just walk in!"
Then—
"Bertram," a feminine voice called from the hallway beyond, "have you finished setting up the dishes? The old lady's coming down any minute."
Bertram froze mid-rant.
A moment later, she stepped into view. She was dressed in sapphire, the gown flowing like water as she moved forward. Her skin glowed under the chandelier light. Dark braids rested against her collarbone.
She stopped the moment she saw us.
"What's going on here?" she asked, her voice even but curious.
Bertram stumbled to her side, eager to win back some control. "Miss, these two men just barged in, claiming they were looking for someone. I tried to stop them, but they—"
But she was no longer listening to him. Her gaze had shifted to me.
"I'm sorry, but the family is currently in the middle of preparations. No visitors are allowed. Please come back another time," she said politely.
I stepped closer, just one pace, steady.
"Are you Evenly Cross?" I asked.
Her posture stiffened ever so slightly.
She blinked. "Who are you?"
It was her. The same woman from the photo Cal
eb showed me the night before he left the service. The one he said he'd die for. The one he said he would marry.