Chapter 2
The shattered glass crunched under Kiernan’s Italian leather shoes as the weight of his son’s words settled over the ruined room. Mom never died. The phrase echoed in his mind, a deafening drumbeat that drowned out the faint music still playing downstairs. He looked down at Rhea, who was frantically trying to push herself up from the sticky ruin of frosting and broken crystal, her eyes darting like a cornered viper.
"What did he just say?" Kiernan’s voice was perilously calm, dropping an octave. He held Perrin tighter to his chest, feeling the frantic, hummingbird rhythm of his son’s heartbeat.
Rhea let out a breathy, frantic laugh, wiping a smear of vanilla buttercream from her cheek. "Are you going to listen to a traumatized four-year-old, Kiernan? The boy is sick. He’s been having delusions for weeks. I put him in that room for a time-out because he was screaming during my gala!"
"A time-out?" Kiernan took a slow step forward. "You built a hidden cell in the walls of my home to give my son a time-out?"
"It’s a panic room!" she shrieked, backing away on her hands and knees until her back hit the grand piano. "Kiernan, be reasonable. Ever since Sarah’s accident, the boy hasn’t been right in the head. You’ve been gone on business. You don’t see how hard it is to manage him!"
Perrin tightened his grip on Kiernan’s shirt. "She’s lying, Dad," he whimpered into Kiernan's neck. "She told a bad man to take Mommy away. I heard her. I heard her on the phone in the dark room."
Kiernan felt a cold sweat break out over his skin. Three years ago, his wife Sarah had supposedly perished in a horrific car fire. The casket had been closed. The dental records matched. Rhea, Sarah's closest confidante, had stepped in to help him grieve, seamlessly weaving herself into his life and his bed.
"Rhea," Kiernan said, his voice trembling with a rage he could barely contain. "If you don't tell me exactly what my son is talking about, I swear to God I will throw you out of that stained-glass window."
Rhea’s eyes flashed with venomous defiance. She slowly stood up, brushing shards of glass from her ruined dress. The mask of the loving fiancée completely evaporated, revealing something cold and serpentine underneath.
"You think you're so smart, Kiernan. So powerful," she sneered, her American accent losing its soft, rehearsed lilt. "If you touch me, my lawyers will have you arrested for assault. And if you go digging into graves that are already closed, you’ll bury yourself right next to her."
"Where is she?" Kiernan roared, the sound vibrating the crystal chandelier above them.
"She's ashes," Rhea spat back, grabbing a heavy brass candlestick from the piano. With a sudden, violent swing, she smashed it against the fire alarm on the wall.
Instantly, deafening sirens wailed through the mansion. Strobe lights flashed, and the sprinkler system above them hissed to life, dumping freezing water over everything. In the chaotic downpour, Rhea bolted toward the servant’s stairwell, her heels slipping on the wet floor.
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Kiernan instinctively shielded Perrin from the icy water. He wanted to chase her, to wring the truth from her throat, but Perrin was sobbing hysterically, shivering in the sudden deluge.
"It's okay, Perrin. I've got you," Kiernan shouted over the alarms. He turned his back on the fleeing woman, prioritizing his son. "We're leaving. We're going to find Mom."
