The interior of the Maybach was silent as a tomb.
Harper pressed herself against the door, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Finn was reading news on a tablet, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen. He seemed completely at ease, while Harper felt like she was vibrating out of her skin.
"Fifty million dollars," he said suddenly.
Harper blinked. "What?"
He didn't look up. "That's the estimated cost of my medical bills over the last ten years. Surgeries. Rehabilitation. Retrofitting the manor. The exoskeleton prototypes."
He turned to look at Harper then. "That is the debt you owe me, Harper."
"I... I can't pay that."
"I know. You're worth nothing." His words were factual, not emotional, which made them hurt more. "So, we will work out a payment plan in trade."
"Trade?" Harper's stomach dropped. "I won't... I won't sleep with you."
Finn laughed. It was a dry, rasping sound. "Don't flatter yourself. I have no interest in the girl who crippled me."
He gestured to his legs, covered by a cashmere blanket. "You broke them. You fix them."
"I'm not a doctor," Harper lied.
"You're a liar," he countered. "I saw what you did to King. You have skills. You will be my personal caretaker. You will be on call twenty-four seven. You will manage my pain. You will help me bathe. You will help me dress."
"You have nurses for that."
"I fired them. I want you." His eyes darkened. "I want you to see the damage you caused. Every single day."
The car slowed. They were turning off the highway, onto the private road that led to the cliffs.
The iron gates of Burke Manor loomed out of the mist. They groaned as they opened, like the jaws of a beast.
The car stopped in the circular driveway.
The door opened. Silas was there with the wheelchair.
Harper stepped out into the drizzle. A line of staff stood on the steps. They looked at her with open hostility. They remembered. Everyone remembered.
"The Prodigal Daughter returns," Finn mocked as he settled into his chair.
They entered the grand foyer. The marble floor was checkered black and white. A massive chandelier hung overhead.
Harper's eyes were drawn upward, to the second-floor balcony that overlooked the hall.
The fall.
She could almost hear the scream.
Harper stopped walking, her breath hitching.
Finn stopped too. He spun his chair around. "Enjoying the view?"
"I didn't do it," Harper said. Her voice was quiet but firm. "Ciera pushed me."
The air in the room dropped ten degrees.
Finn rolled toward Harper until his knees were touching her shins. He grabbed her wrist.
"Do not," he hissed, "say her name in this house. Ciera is a saint. She tried to save you. You... you are the rot at the center of this family."
He released Harper with a shove.
"Get her out of my sight," he ordered the head housekeeper. "Put her in the Tower Room."