Chapter 6

The sky was a bruised, pale gray when Everly finally stepped off the Long Island Rail Road early morning train.

She dragged her battered body down the long, private road leading to the Moss family's sprawling Hamptons estate. She limped heavily on her left leg, her hip throbbing with a dull, sickening ache from the car impact.

Her fingers were stiff with cold as she pressed her thumb against the biometric scanner at the wrought-iron gates. The heavy metal swung open. She walked across the perfectly manicured lawn.

She pushed open the massive oak front doors of the main house. A blast of warm, central heating hit her freezing skin, carrying the rich scent of freshly brewed espresso and toasted brioche.

In the formal dining room to her left, her mother-in-law, Marion, and her sister-in-law, Cecily, were sitting at the table, being served by a French chef.

At the sound of the door closing, both women turned their heads.

They saw Everly standing in the foyer. She was soaked to the bone, covered in mud, her dress torn, and her skin bruised.

Cecily dropped her silver coffee spoon onto her porcelain saucer with a loud clatter. She let out an exaggerated gasp.

"My god, you're dripping mud all over the Persian rug!" Cecily shrieked, her face twisting in disgust.

Marion stood up slowly. Her face was a mask of cold fury. She walked out of the dining room and approached Everly, her eyes raking over Everly's ruined state with absolute contempt.

Without a word of warning, Marion raised her hand and slapped Everly across the face with all her strength.

The sharp crack echoed through the high-ceilinged foyer.

Everly's head snapped to the side. Her cheek instantly burned with a bright red handprint. But she didn't cry. She didn't even flinch. She slowly turned her head back and stared dead into Marion's eyes.

"Staying out all night," Marion hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "Looking like a cheap street whore. You are a disgrace to the Moss name."

Cecily walked up behind her mother, crossing her arms. "The old man finally croaks, and she immediately runs out to find a new sugar daddy to pay her bills. Pathetic."

Everly's fingernails dug into the open wounds on her palms. The physical pain grounded her. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, refusing to engage. She turned her body toward the grand staircase, needing to see her daughter.

Marion stepped sideways, physically blocking the bottom of the stairs.

"Don't you dare walk away from me," Marion sneered. "And don't think you can use that retarded child of yours to stay in this house. That girl is a genetic embarrassment."

The word "retarded." The word "embarrassment."

The final thread of Everly's sanity snapped.

She raised her head. The look in her eyes was no longer human. It was the feral, murderous glare of a cornered wolf. She took a step forward, invading Marion's personal space.

Marion saw the pure violence in Everly's eyes. She gasped, stumbling backward in her heels, her ankle twisting slightly as she nearly fell.

"If you ever," Everly whispered, her voice a rough, gravelly rasp that sent chills down the hallway, "insult Aria again, I will drag every single one of you to hell with me."

She rammed her shoulder hard into Marion's chest, shoving the older woman out of the way. Everly dragged her injured leg up the stairs, never looking back.

When she reached the second-floor landing, the adrenaline faded, leaving her gasping for air. She leaned her back against the wall near the corner, clutching her ribs.

A faint murmur of voices drifted out from the partially open door of the family study just down the hall.

Everly held her breath. She forced her feet to move silently over the thick carpet, pressing her ear near the slight crack of the door. Inside, she couldn't hear every single word clearly, but the slick, nasal voice of Carson's personal lawyer carried just enough through the gap.

"...special needs trust fund... activate by the end of the month," the lawyer murmured. "...massive amount of liquid capital."

Then, a second voice answered, tinny and sharp through a speakerphone. It was Marion, her tone cold, calculating, and chillingly precise. "We need that cash for the IPO shortfall. Contact Dr. Evans. Pay him whatever he wants... write a medical evaluation stating Everly has suffered a severe psychotic break..."

The lawyer hesitated, his tone dropping lower. "...highly illegal, Mrs. Moss."

"I don't care," Marion snapped, her voice crackling with digital distortion as it rose in absolute irritation, no longer bothering to hide her vicious intent. "Declare her insane. Lock her in a ward. Once I have legal guardianship of that idiot child, the trust fund money legally falls under my control. I want that country trash out of my house."

Outside the door, the blood in Everly's veins turned to ice.

She bit down hard on the back of her own hand to muffle the sob tearing up her throat. Tears of pure, unadulterated hatred spilled over her lashes.

They weren't just going to throw her out. They were going to steal her daughter's lifeline.

Everly made a silent, blood-bound vow. Over my dead body.

She backed away from the door and moved silently toward the nursery.