Chapter 1
Wren's POV
Married to Declan Hargrove for three years, I kept my past locked away tight. I let no one near Greybell, and I never, ever mentioned the name Calloway.
Until Piper excitedly dug up the "incest scandal" between me and my own brother. The Hargrove family booked their flights that very night, vowing to fly to Greybell and tear my "white-trash" parents to shreds.
I knelt on the carpet, shaking and sobbing.
But hiding behind the curtain of my long hair, no one saw the truth. I wasn’t begging for my own life.
I was begging for theirs.
Because my brother, Reid, had already gotten the news. He was in Greybell right now, preparing an unforgettable "feast" for our arrogant guests.
I knelt in the center of the Hargrove estate’s lavish living room.
"Constance, I swear I wasn't digging for dirt on purpose," Piper murmured from the dark leather sofa, her voice cooing like she was comforting a startled bird. "But I couldn't just sit back and let the Hargroves be kept in the dark about something like this."
"Well, it all makes sense now, doesn't it?" My mother-in-law, Constance, dripped with cold mockery. "Three years, Wren. You fought tooth and nail to keep your family out of Aldenmere, and you absolutely refused to take Declan back to Greybell for a visit."
She scoffed, slamming her wine glass down on the crystal coffee table. "Turns out my seemingly docile little daughter-in-law has secrets that even a gutter rat would find repulsive. Incest."
"Jesus... you've got some nerve, Wren," Sloane finally chimed in, peeling her eyes off her phone.
She clicked over to me in her stilettos, leaning down until her red lips brushed my ear. "If you leave my brother, where will you go? Back to the slums to spread your legs and be your brother's cheap little whore again?"
I bit my lower lip hard. Tears immediately pooled in my eyes—pure muscle memory. My shoulders began to tremble violently.
"I really should thank you, you know," Sloane arched an eyebrow, her tone dripping with venom. Two years ago, if her mother hadn't semi-forced me into giving up one of my kidneys, she'd be dead.
"But now when I think about it," she sneered in disgust, "having an organ inside me that came from a woman sleeping with her own brother makes me want to vomit. You're filthy."
Before the words fully left her mouth, she raised her foot. The sharp heel of her stiletto drove straight into my left torso—hitting the dark red surgical scar with terrifying precision.
With a sick glimmer of amusement, she ground her heel down.
"Urgh!" A ragged gasp tore from my throat as I collapsed onto my left side.
Agony bloomed like thorny vines wrapping around my spine. It was a dull, tearing pain I had tasted hundreds of times over the past year. I curled into a tight ball, clutching my scar, my forehead pressing into the carpet.
"Please..." I gasped through gritted teeth. "Don't go to Greybell..."
But my weak warning only poured gasoline on Constance’s arrogance.
She stood slowly, walking over and grabbing my chin. Her sharp acrylic nails dug mercilessly into the soft skin of my jaw.
"I thought you were just poor. Turns out you're a complete slut," Constance growled. "I used to think that backwater town was too filthy for my shoes. Now? I’ve changed my mind."
She threw my face to the side. "Book the flights immediately. Tomorrow, I'm going to Greybell myself. I want to look your pathetic parents in the eye and show every piece of trash in the Calloway family what Hargrove rules mean. I'll show them what it means to be unworthy."
"Don't upset yourself over this, Constance," Piper handed her a silk handkerchief, casually fanning the flames. "Stains like her need to be scrubbed out quickly."
"I can't wait to see the dump that raised a skank like you!" Sloane laughed, grinding her heel into my spine again. "Do us a favor and get out of our house. Get away from my brother. Trash like you is an insult to the Hargrove name."
She pressed harder. I arched my back pathetically, shrinking myself down into the dust. My hair fell like a veil, hiding my face completely.
Because of that, no one saw my real expression beneath the submissive mask.
No one saw how the tears of grievance dried up in an instant.
These Hargrove idiots were laughing at me without a care in the world. They thought I was begging for my dignity. They thought I was terrified of losing the title of Mrs. Hargrove. They thought I was shivering in fear of my family being humiliated.
They were wrong. Dead wrong.
I was begging for their lives.
Because no outsider has ever walked out of the Calloway estate alive.
