The Hawthorne estate glowed with golden light that night, a stark contrast to the bleak frost that lay heavy outside. The staff moved like shadows, setting the long mahogany table with precision, their faces taut with nerves. Tonight was not about feasting. Tonight was about sending a message.
Scarlett adjusted the dark green velvet dress she had been pressed into wearing, its fitted bodice heavy against her ribs. She stared at herself in the mirror, hardly recognising the girl in the reflection. She didn’t look like the quiet, hidden daughter she once had been. She looked like a weapon dressed in silk.
“Scar?”
Daniel’s voice came through the door before it creaked open. He stepped inside, already in a tailored suit, hair slicked back in an attempt at formality that did little to hide t
