His jaw flexes once, like he doesn’t quite believe me but respects it anyway. When we step outside, a sleek black car is already waiting at the curb, the engine humming softly as the driver steps out to open the door.
Roman’s hand settles at the small of my back as he guides me forward and we climb in. Our legs brush as he takes my hand, rubbing slow circles over my knuckles. It doesn’t take long before we arrive at my family home. The inferiority creeps in, washing over me in waves as I steel my spine and pull the mask into place.
Roman cups my face, his gaze moving between my eyes.
“You’re Fae Ackworth, a survivor, a warrior, and one of the best goddamn killers this company has ever seen,” he states, pressing a kiss to my forehead before knocking on the divider to signal the driver.
“You don’t need to fear them anymore; they need to fear you.”
The car door swings open and we step out. Roman’s hand settles at the small of my back as he guides me up the steps and through the front doors into the familiar checkered hallway. Warm light spills over us as we move towards the ballroom, where laughter and champagne flow freely.
I lift my chin, smooth my expression, and step across the threshold, linking my arm with Roman.
Let them watch, let them whisper.
Tonight, I’m not the girl they broke. I’m the woman they should have killed when they had the chance. Because this house of cards is already soaked in fuel, and I brought the match.
CHAPTER 31
FAE
The ballroom is obscene. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, crystals dripping like frozen rain as it reflects gold light over polished marble floors. The walls are trimmed in gilded moulding. Thick velvet drapes frame floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook nothing but darkness and money. Round tables clothed in ivory linen are scattered with centrepieces so tall they look like they’re trying to outgrow the room. Of course he included white orchids, he always does. It’s a bitter reminder that my mum is no longer here and a hollow display that he misses her. Unlike the subtle scent of the flowers, this place reeks of champagne and power.
Everywhere I look, there are faces I recognise from boardrooms, charity galas, and the dungeon. Executives. Investors. Monsters. These are the men who shake hands with one hand and ruin lives with the other. Women in silk gowns and diamond necklaces laugh too loudly at jokes that aren’t even funny.
I walk in on Roman’s arm like I own the place. In a way, I do. This is my inheritance. At some stage in my life, I forgot that, but the men who break bread with Father see me as nothing more than a pawn in his game.
Looking across the room, I spot him by the champagne tower, one hand resting casually at his back, the other wrapped around his drink. His smile is smooth and calculated. It’s control I’m convinced he’s practised in the mirror.
Beside him, I see the nightmare that is my reality and my stomach tightens. Dr. Fisher. They lean towards each other like co-conspirators. Father says something; Fisher throws his head back in laughter, the sound sharp even from this distance. Memories hit all at once and my cheeks burn with humiliation. How many times did he laugh in my face when I failed him? When I humiliated myself in front of him?
That same cackle makes my shoulders go rigid before I can stop it but Roman notices immediately. His hand shifts at my waist, in a grounding, possessive hold.
“Don’t,” he says low enough that no one else can hear, “ignore them.”
“I am,” I lie, grinding my teeth. Roman chuckles, his thumb brushing over my hip bone.
“Mmm, let’s ignore them some more, shall we?”
Before I can argue, he gently but firmly steers us away from Father’s line of sight, cutting across the ballroom towards someone I don’t recognise. She stands near the far end of the room alone, yet somehow doesn’t look lonely.
She’s older, with an air that makes her seem regal. Her skin is deep, rich, and luminous under the chandeliers, glowing against a pink gown that commands attention without begging for it. The colour should be soft, but on her it looks powerful.
She sees us approaching and her entire face transforms.
“Roman! There you are!” Her voice cuts through the noise, warm and confident in an unapologetic way. Even as heads turn, she doesn’t seem phased as I am left trying to place who she is.
Roman sighs, but there’s something softer beneath it that makes me double-take.
“Mum,” he says simply, a small tilt to his lips.
Mum?
My heart stutters.
He steps forward and she pulls him into a hug that he automatically relaxes in to, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek before they separate. Her gaze lands on me as I try to control my breathing. I brace for the barb, for the hatred I expect to follow.
Instead, she confuses me.