Rebekkah's POV.
The mansion felt different now that it was empty. The silence wasn't peaceful; it was heavy, like the air before a lightning strike. Michael had left an hour ago, his parting words full of promises to "smooth things over" with the board, but his eyes had been cold...colder than I’d ever seen them.
I sat at the long mahogany table, the confession letter from my mother smoothed out in front of me.
"You should eat something," Derek said.
He was standing by the window, his silhouette dark against the glass. He hadn't let his guard down for a second since the others left. He was still scanning the driveway, still listening for the sound of a returning car.
"I’m not hungry," I whispered. I looked at the letter. "Derek, Michael said he’s moving the wedding up. Two weeks."
D
