I pulled the hood of my black coat up higher as the cab dropped me at the gates of the Hudson estate. The same wrought-iron entrance that had once felt like a promise now looked like a cage. I slipped on my oversized sunglasses even though the sky was overcast, gray and heavy with the threat of rain. No one would recognize me right away—not the girl who’d fled seven years ago in tears. I hoped.
The driveway was lined with black cars, mourners in dark suits and dresses moving like shadows toward the private chapel on the grounds. I kept my head down, blending into the crowd. Every step brought memories crashing back. Markus’s warm hand on my shoulder during that first family dinner. The way he’d hung my painting in his study and told me, “This is what home looks like, kiddo.” His quiet pri
