Chapter 3

Wren's POV

"If you're all going to Greybell, I'm coming too." Declan strode in, his eyes sweeping over me on the carpet. He frowned slightly, but he didn't reach out to help me up. "We've been married for three years, and I haven't formally met my in-laws yet. It wouldn't be right."

A brief, dead silence.

Using the edge of the sofa, I pushed myself up. Head bowed, I tucked my messy hair behind my ear.

"You don't have to, Declan." I looked up, eyes red, my voice hitting the perfect pitch of timidity. "You still have company business to handle this week. I don't want to hold you up because of... my issues."

A glimmer of triumph flashed across Constance's eyes before she seamlessly switched back to her maternal act. She stepped forward, affectionately adjusting my rumpled collar.

"Yes, Declan. Wren is always so considerate of you." She pinched my collarbone viciously, using a force only I could feel. "Besides, Piper's father is coming tomorrow to discuss the new joint venture. It’s the future of the Hargrove family for the next ten years. The heir can't exactly be absent."

"Don't worry, Declan," Piper chimed in gracefully, though her tone held a razor-sharp edge. "We just want to take this opportunity to learn more about Wren's past. After all... we're very curious to see what kind of family raises someone with such a... 'unique' personality."

"Exactly, brother," Sloane eagerly put on an innocent face. "It's a girls' trip. You'll just ruin the fun."

Declan’s wavering resolve finally crumbled. He sighed and impatiently tugged at his tie.

"Fine. Just call me when you get to Greybell."

He turned and walked toward his study without so much as a second glance at me.

At that moment, I clearly caught the look exchanged between Constance, Sloane, and Piper. It was the fanatic gleam of a hunter watching prey walk straight into a trap, eager to tear it apart.

Ah... this was going to be beautiful.

That night, Declan was still working in his study. I laid in the massive, cold bed and sank back into the nightmare that had haunted me for years.

In the dream, I was ten again. I was walking barefoot on the cold floors of the Calloway manor, staring at the faint yellow light seeping through the crack in the master bedroom door.

"Elliot, are you really sure adopting this little monster was a good idea?" Vivienne's voice had lost its usual sweetness, replaced by a spine-chilling coldness. "She doesn't possess a single Calloway trait."

Father laughed softly. His voice was warm, but it dumped ice water in my veins.

"Patience, my love. If one day we decide we don't like it anymore... we simply kill it."

"You always have a plan, don't you?"

"Of course. Our basement is huge. It wouldn't be the first time."

Ten-year-old me stood outside the door, my blood freezing solid.

I wasn't their biological daughter. I was just a toy chosen on a whim by two psychopathic serial killers.

I snapped my eyes open, gasping as I dragged myself out of the nightmare. Cold sweat soaked through my nightgown. My heart hammered against my ribs.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Sender: Reid.

My trembling fingers swiped open the screen. As the first photo loaded, my pupils dilated.

The background was the Hargrove living room. In the photo, I was curled desperately on the rug, Sloane's shoe digging into my waist, while Constance and Piper loomed over me, smiling sadistically.

This was from just hours ago.

Sweat dripped down my spine. Reid was watching me.

When the second photo popped up, my breathing stopped completely.

A hidden camera shot inside the estate's bathroom. The image showed water running down my pale skin, perfectly capturing the jagged kidney removal scar on my left side, alongside the massive purple bruise Sloane had just kicked into me.

The phone rang. Reid’s name flashed on the screen.

I knew my brother. The more I resisted, the more excited he got.

Taking a deep breath to steady my shaking, I picked up the call.

"My sweetheart." Reid's voice was dark, rich, and laced with a nauseatingly sick sweetness.

"Reid—"

"Tell me, those bruises on your body," he interrupted, his voice dropping to a whisper wrapped in apocalyptic danger. "Did they do that to you? Hm?"

"It’s a misunderstanding, Reid," I grit my teeth.

A dark, raspy chuckle echoed from the other end. My blood ran colder.

"You always try to be so strong," he paused, his tone shifting into pure aggression. "But Mother called me tonight. Ordered me to fly back to Greybell from Europe immediately. She told me your prestigious husband's family is coming for a visit."

"You don't need to come back. I told you, this is just—"

"But I missed you, Wren." He cut me off again, the suffocating possessiveness dripping from every word. "I missed you so much it's driving me insane."

I gripped the bedsheets, my knuckles turning white.

"Bring them home, dear sister." I heard the click of his lighter over the phone. His tone was breezy, yet every word struck like a coffin nail. "I've already prepared the grandest, most unforgettable vacation for your in-laws."