The storm raged well into the night, but by morning the skies had cleared, leaving the estate washed in a pale winter light. The air was sharp with the scent of rain-soaked earth, and every leaf on the sprawling gardens glittered like shards of glass. But inside the
Hawthorne estate, the mood was anything but serene.
Scarlett stood before the tall mirror in her room, fastening the last buckle on her boots. Her reflection stared back at her—poised, calm, collected—but she could feel the tremor beneath the surface. Today wasn’t just another day of preparation. Today marked her first step into the underworld her father had spent his entire life controlling.
And she wasn’t backing down.
The war room meeting last night replayed in her mind like a scene etched in steel: Michael’s voice, col
