Chapter 3

The night air was freezing. It cut right through the thin fabric of Clora's silk nightgown, raising goosebumps on her arms. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as she stood on the damp grass of the garden.

It wasn't an act. She was genuinely cold. But the shivering served a dual purpose. It made her look vulnerable, fragile. Like a lost little girl waiting for a savior.

She glanced up at the second floor of the manor. The study window was a slab of black against the lit hallway. He was up there. She couldn't see him, but she could feel his gaze like a physical weight on the back of her neck. Essex never missed a detail, especially when it came to his possessions.

Good. Let him watch.

She took a step further into the shadows of the rose bushes. This was the exact spot. Seven years ago, she had stood here, her heart pounding with hope, waiting for Preston to rescue her. She had thought he was her knight in shining armor.

Now, the memory just made her sick.

A rustling sound came from the dense hedge to her left. A figure emerged, brushing leaves off his expensive jacket.

Preston Vaughn. He looked exactly as she remembered. Perfectly styled dark hair, a jawline that belonged on a magazine cover, and eyes that always seemed to be calculating the value of whatever they landed on.

"Clora!" He hurried over, his face a mask of desperate concern. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and sweaty. "Thank god you're okay. I got your message. We have to move fast. Come with me right now, I can get you out of here."

Clora looked at his hand on her wrist. His touch made her skin crawl. She didn't pull away, though. Not yet. She needed to play this just right.

She looked up at the dark window again, just for a second. The air around them felt heavy, charged with a violent energy that was pressing down on them from above. Essex's fury was a living thing, building in the dark.

Preston misread her hesitation. He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her in a suffocating hug. He buried his face in her neck, his voice dropping to a smooth, seductive murmur.

"Don't be scared, Clora. I'm here now. I won't let that tyrant touch you ever again. Just come with me. We'll go back to the city, we'll get married tomorrow. I'll protect you."

Clora stared over his shoulder at the dark hedges. Married. Right. Preston didn't want her. He wanted the Parrish family shares that came with her. He wanted the ego boost of stealing Essex Langley's property. He was a scavenger, picking at the scraps of the powerful.

She felt a wave of disgust so strong it almost choked her. This was the man she had ruined her life for. This pathetic, greedy coward.

She could feel Essex's patience snapping. The tension in the air was like a pulled rubber band, ready to snap back and take someone's head off.

It was time.

Preston leaned in, trying to kiss her. "Just trust me, Clora. We belong together-"

Clora ripped her arm out of his grip. She shoved him back hard, the force of her rejection surprising them both.

Preston stumbled, nearly tripping over a root. He caught his balance and stared at her, his perfect face twisting in confusion. "Clora? What are you doing?"

Clora took a step back, putting a solid five feet of cold night air between them. She looked at him, really looked at him, and let all the contempt she felt show on her face.

Preston's brow furrowed. "What's wrong with you? I'm trying to save you!"

Clora didn't answer him. Instead, she tilted her chin up and looked directly at the dark study window.

"Have you seen enough?" she called out. Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the quiet garden like a knife.

Preston froze. The color drained from his face. He slowly turned his head to follow her gaze, staring up at the black window.

For a second, nothing happened. Just the chirping of crickets and the pounding of Preston's visible panic.

Then, a tiny orange glow flared in the darkness. The cherry of a cigar. It illuminated a sliver of a harsh jawline and a pair of eyes that glowed with predatory intent.

Essex Langley stepped forward, visible in the faint moonlight. He stood at the window like a dark god looking down on his domain, his expression unreadable, but the threat in his posture unmistakable.

Preston made a choking sound. He hadn't actually believed Essex would be there. He thought Mila's plan was foolproof. He took a step back, his legs visibly shaking.

Clora watched Preston's terror with a sense of grim satisfaction. The mouse had just realized the cat was in the room.

She crossed her arms over her chest, a cold smile playing on her lips. The stage was set. The spotlight was on. Now it was time to burn the house down.