Inheritance of Ashes
The weight of Calla’s new identity pressed into her skin like cold iron. Even with the firelight dancing across the living room of the Long Island estate, she couldn’t find warmth. The envelope, the documents—proof she was a Bell—burned a hole in her chest.
She stared at her reflection in the window, trying to find traces of the truth in her face. The slope of her nose, the arch of her brows—how much had been hers, and how much had been manufactured by the twisted design of Edwin Bell?
Cassian stood behind her, silent, his expression unreadable.
“He never said a word,” he murmured. “Not to me. Not once.”
“You didn’t know?” Her voice was quiet but sharp.
“I swear it.”
Calla turned, her throat tight. “Then why am I on the beneficiary list? Why does it say I was a
