CHAPTER TWENTY NINETABLE FOR THE BROKEN
Anastasia Locke The Locke family estate was a cold kind of beautiful. Elegant. Polished. Quiet. Too quiet. It had been years since Anastasia stepped foot in the mansion she grew up in. Even with tons of maids and servants and guards up and around the house, the house had been silent and felt empty ever since their mother left. It was as if she took the soul and joy of the place altogether when she was leaving, suffocating the others she had left behind. Anastasia adjusted her shawl as she stepped into the grand foyer, heels clicking lightly on the black marble. Her father had the housekeeper open the door before she even knocked, which should've been her first warning. Hospitality meant Gerard Locke was either trying to impress or manipulate. Or both. The dinner table gleamed under a
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