The soles of her sandals slapped loudly against the paved circle drive. Evie cringed as she gazed up at the three-story monstrosity, wondering how anyone could consider making a place like this their home.
It was too big. Too pretentious. And far too cold to be cozy.
Evie liked cozy. Almost craved it, really. She had since she was a little girl.
When she’d envisioned her future, the one thing that remained consistent was her desire to establish roots in a place that felt warm and inviting. Like the way she’d felt while wrapped snuggly in Beckett’s arms.
I want to be there again. I want to feel his warm embrace. I want to feel safe and protected and…loved.
It was far too soon to be having those kinds of thoughts. Especially for a man she barely knew. But Evie also understood the faster she got her ass inside and said her piece, the sooner she’d be back in Charlotte—back withBeckett—again.
She wasn’t doing this for him, however. Coming here…finally facing her personal demons…
This is all for me.
Shoulders squared, Evie straightened her spine and picked up her pace. Taking the elaborate split staircase, the smooth, white stone steps carried her up to the structure’s massive double doors.
She started to press the doorbell but stopped mid-reach. After a brief moment of careful consideration, she decided it best to keep with the element of surprise.
This was still her family’s estate, after all. And as her father’s sole heir…
Like it or not, this is your legacy, Eves. You have every right to be here.
Rather than announce her arrival, Evie used her key to unlock the secured door. After slipping her keys back into her purse, she drew in a steeling breath and pushed against the door on the right.
A blast of cool air struck her as she crossed the threshold of her childhood home, carrying with it the familiar scent of roses and lemons. The nauseating combination was derived from the ever-present array of fresh-cut flowers her father insisted be on constant display, combined with the very specific line of cleaning supplies he demanded his cleaning staff use.
It always comes down to money and appearances, Evelynn. In our world, that’s all that matters.
Her father’s words of so-called wisdom filled her ears as Evie studied the expansive, two-story foyer.
Large squares of polished white marble led guests to the home’s grand staircase. With its ornate spindles and hand-carved mahogany railing, the design was in keeping with the exterior split stairs leading to the mansion’s front doors.
Along with expensive paintings and a massive crystal chandelier hanging overhead, the curved staircase offered those who entered a glimpse into her father’s luxurious taste. For Evie, however, the impressive showcase of wealth wasn’t so much breathtaking as it was a stark reminder of her childhood.
One filled with hollow dreams and wishes that would never come true.
“Evelynn?” A voice sounded from Evie’s left. “My goodness, is that really you?”
She turned her attention in that direction, her lips already lifting into an automatic—and genuine—smile. “Helen.” Evie made her way to the woman who’d practically raised her. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Helen O’Brien had worked for the Mitchell family since before her grandfather’s passing. Born to Irish immigrants—who’d also worked for Evie’s family until they were too old to carry on with their duties—the sixty-two-year-old woman worked harder and with more pride than anyone Evie had ever known.
She felt herself being pulled into a giant bear hug.
“Oh, how I’ve missed seeing your smiling face around here.” Helen’s familiar accent was prominent and…oddly soothing. “But I thought you were over in that dreadful place for another week or so. Did they send you home early? Your father didn’t mention you were coming home.”
That’s because he thinks I’m dead.
It took everything in Evie’s power not to react. Clearly, her father hadn’t mentioned the kidnapping or the ransom demand to his most trusted employee. But why would he?
If Helen ever found out what he did, she’d quit his selfish ass and never look back.
A sliver of vengeance began to weave its way through her veins, and though it went against her very nature, Evie couldn’t deny the overwhelming temptation to tell Helen the truth. One simple story is all it would take, and her father’s entire world would come crashing down around him.
Helen was the closest thing to a mother Evie had known after her real mother’s untimely death. And if there was one thing she knew about Helen’s fiery Irish spirit…
She’d always,alwaysstood up for Evie. Like a mama bear protecting its cub.