Kyls stepped out of her car, the distant glow of the house lights casting long shadows against the driveway as she made her way toward the garage door. The Morgan estate loomed in front of her like a brooding giant, an ever-present reminder of the weight she carried as a member of her family. Just as she reached the door, the faint scent of cigar smoke reached her, mingling with the cold tang of metal and engine grease. Her father’s right-hand man, John, leaned against the wall just inside the garage, his face hidden in shadow, yet the set of his shoulders conveyed disapproval.
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with a calm expression, though she could feel the tension tightening her spine. She’d known this was coming; there was no avoiding it.
“I had something to take care of,” she
