Fallon
The Callahan estate was as intimidating as ever.
All glass and stone and old money elegance, sitting at the edge of a perfectly manicured lawn that stretched on for acres. The kind of house where everything felt too pristine to touch — too polished, too perfect.
Too easy to break.
And today, it felt like a trap.
My heels clicked against the marble floors as I stepped inside the grand foyer. The place always smelled faintly of roses and old wood, the scent so familiar it felt like stepping into another life — one I’d never quite fit into.
“Fallon, darling!”
Evelyn Callahan’s voice rang out like music, warm and welcoming as ever. She swept toward me with that effortless grace, her arms outstretched, her designer silk dress flowing as if she were gliding. The hug was light and p
