Chapter 4

At exactly seven o'clock on Friday evening, the heavy brass doorbell of the estate was pushed in with a harsh, sustained buzz.

Maura opened the door. Evelyn stood on the front steps, her arm linked tightly through Dante's.

Dante wore a new suit, but the tailoring was awful. The collar of his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the edge of a jagged tattoo on his neck. A wave of cheap, overpowering cologne rolled into the foyer, thick enough to make Maura hold her breath.

Dante didn't say hello. He swaggered into the entryway, his eyes darting around the vaulted ceiling and the crystal chandelier with naked, greedy hunger.

Maura held out a pair of guest slippers. Dante ignored her completely. He stepped directly onto the antique Persian rug, the mud from his leather shoes grinding deep into the woven silk fibers.

Grant sat on the living room sofa. He watched the mud smear across the rug. He rubbed his temples violently, his jaw locked tight to keep from screaming.

Just as Dante was sneering at a marble bust, the front door opened again.

Camren walked in, dragging a leather duffel bag. He wore the crisp red and black uniform of Phillips Exeter Academy. His posture was straight, his face carrying the natural arrogance of old money.

Evelyn's face lit up. "Camren! You made it. This is Dante."

Dante looked Camren up and down. His upper lip curled in disgust. Dante took a deliberate step forward and slammed his shoulder hard into Camren's chest.

Camren stumbled back half a step. The heavy duffel bag slipped from his grip, hitting the floor with a thud. Camren's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

Dante let out a sharp, mocking whistle. "Nice little uniform, princess. You look like a spoiled little boarding school bitch."

Camren's hands curled into tight fists. The muscles in his forearms coiled. He looked ready to swing, but his eyes flicked to Evelyn. She was giving him a wide, pleading look, begging him to let it go.

Camren swallowed hard. He unclenched his fists and walked past Dante without a word.

Christa descended the marble staircase. She took in the entire scene without missing a beat. Her thumb brushed against her wedding ring.

"Dinner is served," Christa announced, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

They moved to the dining room. It was a disaster from the first minute.

Dante grabbed a dinner roll with his bare hands and tore it apart, chewing with his mouth open. He snapped his fingers at Maura to refill his water glass.

He leaned back in his chair, loudly bragging about a street fight he had won the previous weekend, detailing how he had cracked a guy's jaw.

Grant's face was the color of ash. Camren dropped his silver fork onto his plate with a loud clatter, unable to eat another bite.

Under the table, Evelyn was sweating profusely. She kept kicking Dante's shin, trying to get him to shut up, but he ignored her.

Christa picked up her linen napkin and dabbed the corners of her mouth.

She picked up her silver spoon. She tapped it against the side of her crystal water goblet.

Clink. Clink.

The sharp sound cut through Dante's loud voice like a knife. The entire table fell dead silent. Everyone looked at the head of the table.

Christa locked her eyes entirely on Evelyn.

"Evelyn," Christa said, her voice smooth and terrifyingly calm. "If you believe Dante is your true love, the Stephenson family will not stand in the way of your happiness. We are civilized people."

Evelyn's shoulders dropped. A massive wave of relief washed over her face. She thought she had survived.

"However," Christa continued, the temperature in the room plummeting. "This family does not fund disrespect. We do not sponsor thrill-seekers who treat our home like a gutter."

Evelyn's relief vanished, replaced by a cold spike of panic in her chest.

"You have a choice to make tonight," Christa said, leaning forward slightly. "If you choose to walk out of here with Dante, then by eight o'clock Monday morning, I will withdraw the financial guarantee for your Ivy League tuition."

Evelyn stopped breathing.

"Furthermore," Christa's voice dropped to a deadpan whisper. "I will freeze every trust fund account attached to your name, and cancel all your supplementary credit cards. Effective immediately."

The blood drained from Evelyn's face so fast she looked like a corpse. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

She whipped her head toward Grant, her eyes begging for him to intervene. Grant kept his eyes glued to his plate, methodically cutting a piece of chicken he had no intention of eating.

Dante, who had been glaring at Christa, suddenly shifted his posture. At the words 'freeze credit cards', the aggressive bravado melted off his face, replaced by a rapid, calculating squint as he looked at Evelyn.

Christa leaned back in her chair. She rested her hands in her lap and waited.