Chapter 4 The Hawthorne Estate

New York hit her all at once…cold December wind whipping down Eighth Avenue, the smell of pretzels and exhaust, and car horns blaring in a constant impatient symphony. People streamed past her in expensive coats with their heads down and earbuds in, moving like they owned the sidewalks.

Kira hated it instantly. And she hated her mother even more for making this her only option.

During the thirty hour ride from Oklahoma, there had been nothing to do but stare out the window and think. The torn letter had been carefully taped back together, and the prepaid card been miraclelously discovered in a hidden flap she’d missed in her rage. Once the bus had Wi-Fi, she searched the name Victor Hawthorne on her cracked phone screen.

The results had made her sick to see the kind of life her mother had been living for the past six years. There were Articles about Hawthorne Industries…tech, real estate, private equity and billions in net worth. A humongous estate in Westchester County overlooking the Hudson, and a life of private jets and penthouses while Kira learned to dance for crumpled notes in a club that smelled like bleach and regret.

Her mother had walked out when Kira was just sixteen and trying to figure out life as a teenager, only leaving a note that said I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore, and vanished. No birthday cards. No child support. Nothing.

And all this time Elena had been here…married to this man, swimming in money, and building a new life without a backward glance.

She checked the address again on her phone…Hawthorne Estate, Scarborough on Hudson, NY…then raised a hand for a cab.

“Scarborough on Hudson. Hawthorne Estate,” she announced as she settled into the back seat.

The driver…an older man with a gray beard and a knit cap glanced at her in the rearview mirror. His eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, and Kira knew what he saw…faded hoodie, ripped jeans, scabbed scratches on her hands from the fire escape, and cheap sneakers still dusted with Oklahoma soil. She looked like someone who belonged on a late night bus, not heading to one of the most exclusive addresses north of the city.

“Got it,” he muttered after a while and started the engine. No questions. New York rules.

When the cab finally turned onto a private drive flanked by towering evergreens and a discreet plaque read HAWTHORNE, the driver slowed down as a uniformed guard stepped out of a small gatehouse. Kira rolled down her window as he approached.

“Name?”

“Kira Thompson. I’m expected.”

The guard spoke quietly into a radio. After a moment he nodded and waved them through.

Mansion didn’t cover it when the main house came into view. It was a gigantic fortress of gray stone and ivy, three stories high with wings stretching left and right, tall windows glowing gold against the winter morning.

The cab came to a stop at the base of wide stone steps. Kira paid with the prepaid card…watching the driver’s eyes widen slightly at the balance…and stepped out.

Victor Hawthorne stood on the threshold, exactly like the photos she had seen online but older in person and even more handsome…late fifties, tall and lean, with silver hair and an aristocratic face. Everything about him looked expensive without trying.

“Miss Thompson,” he said smoothly. “Welcome. I’m Victor Hawthorne.”

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, sir,” she said timidly.

He gestured her inside. “Of course. Come in. It’s cold out here.

She nodded and went inside quietly.

Victor closed the door behind her. “You must have had a long journey. Would you like something…coffee, tea?”

“I’m fine, sir.”

A young man appeared at the top of the stairs and descended slowly. Tall like his father but broader through the shoulders, with dark hair falling over his forehead. He wore a black Henley pushed up at the sleeves, and jeans that probably cost more than Kira’s entire wardrobe. His eyes…green and intense…locked on her immediately and didn’t let go.

Victor glanced up. “Rex, this is Kira Thompson. Miss Thompson, my son, Rex.”

Rex reached the bottom step and extended a hand nonchalantly. His grip was warm, firm, lingering a bit too long. Up close, Kira realized that he was almost unfairly handsome…with a sharp jaw, faint stubble, and a mouth that looked like it knew exactly how to sin.

“Pleasure,” he said with a slow smile playing on his lips. The look he gave her was anything but polite…It traveled from her eyes down her body and back up again, unapologetic, and hungry. Heat flashed under Kira’s skin despite herself.

She pulled her hand back. “Hi.”

Victor watched the exchange with no visible reaction. “I got a call from Miss Thompson this morning, and she has a letter claiming your late stepmother left her an inheritance.”

Rex’s eyebrow lifted slightly, curiosity sharpening his gaze.

Victor turned back to Kira. “Elena and I were married for over six years. She passed six months ago after a brief illness…pancreatic cancer. It was… swift.” His tone was direct and almost gentle, but his eyes stayed cool. “I was not even aware she had a daughter. She never mentioned you. Nor did she mention any separate will. Everything passed to me, as far as my attorneys know.”

Kira’s felt her heart lurch. She had expected denial, but hearing it spoken so calmly still hurt even more.

Victor studied her face for a while, and something lit up in his eyes…recognition, or something close to it.

“I must admit that you do look very much like her,” he said quietly. “The resemblance is… striking.”

He didn’t elaborate further on it. Instead he gestured toward the hallway. “You must be very tired. I’ve had a guest suite prepared for you, and you can stay as long as you like while we sort this out. I’ll have my people look into the matter…private records, safety deposit boxes, and anything else that might explain the letter you received.”

Kira hesitated. What if she was making a big mistake? What if she was falling into a trap. She had just shown up as the unknown daughter of his late wife, and he was acting so cool about it. Something just didn't feel right about the whole thing.

But then again she had nowhere else to go. Reaper’s gang was probably still tearing apart Oklahoma looking for her. The prepaid card had limits, and winter in New York was brutal without shelter.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “I really appreciate your hospitality.”

Victor nodded to a woman who had appeared silently. “Maria will show you up. Dinner is at seven if you feel up to it.”

Maria smiled politely and took the duffel bag from Kira’s shoulder before she could protest. “This way, miss.”

As Kira followed her toward the staircase, she felt eyes on her back and glanced over her shoulder.

Rex still stood with hands in his pockets, watching her ascend with that same unfiltered intensity. When their eyes met, his smile deepened…slow, knowing, and a little dangerous.

Then he winked at her.