Chapter 1 - The King’s Chariot
I stood at the top of the marble staircase,
looking down at the foyer that had felt like a prison for three long years.
The silence of the house was deafening,
broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
I looked at the navy dress I was still wearing,
the fabric that Spencer had called embarrassing.
I felt a strange sense of detachment,
as if I were watching someone else's life unfold.
Outside,
the roar of a high-performance engine shattered the quiet of the night.
Then another,
and another.
I walked to the window and pulled back the heavy velvet curtains.
A fleet of black armored SUVs was pulling into the driveway,
their headlights cutting through the darkness like searchlights.
At the center of the formation was a vintage Rolls Royce,
silver and gleaming under the moon.
Mrs. Evelyn gasped from the doorway,
her hand flying to her mouth in shock.
"Mrs. Reed,
who are all these people?"
I didn't answer her,
because I was already walking toward the door.
The security gates that Spencer thought were so impenetrable were being opened by men in suits.
My father's personal security team didn't wait for permission.
They stepped out of their vehicles with the precision of a military unit.
Then,
the back door of the Rolls Royce opened.
A man stepped out,
leaning on a silver-headed cane.
Raymond Harrell.
The man who had built half of the skyline visible from this very window.
He looked up at the house,
his eyes searching until they found me standing on the porch.
I ran down the steps,
not caring about the heels or the dress or the rules Spencer had placed on me.
My father caught me in his arms,
his scent of cedar and expensive tobacco enveloping me.
"Phoebe,"
he whispered,
his voice thick with a father's grief.
"I’m so sorry it took me this long to come."
I pulled back,
tears finally stinging my eyes.
"I told him I wanted to come home,
Dad."
My father looked at the house,
his expression turning into something cold and lethal.
"You are a Harrell,"
he said,
straightening his coat.
"And no one treats a Harrell like a secret."
He turned to his lead security officer.
"Pack her things."
"Every single thing that she brought here."
"Leave everything he bought her."
"She won't be needing his charity where we are going."
I looked at the house one last time,
feeling the chains finally snap.
"I don't want anything from here,
Dad."
"Just my dignity."
He nodded,
his eyes flashing with a silent promise of war.
May you like
"Then let’s go get it back."
"Starting at the gala."
