The house had become a stage, and Vanessa its director.
Every hallway felt like it had been rearranged with intention, every portrait staring harder, every lamp turned just so to cast shadows in corners Sierra hadn’t noticed before. It was suffocating, the way her mother’s presence had grown heavier in the air. Vanessa was no longer a mother simply watching her daughter, she was a predator circling her prey.
It had been two days since the parlor game, the trap Vanessa had set with her questions about lies and family. Two days since Sierra’s tongue twisted into careful words, words that saved her in the moment. She had expected relief, but instead she found herself raw with paranoia.
Damien had rewarded her deception with bruises and ropes that night, whispering against her ear how flawl
