Chapter 3

HANNAH POV:

I didn't reply to Scarlett's text. Provocation was her game, but I wasn't playing anymore. Instead, I used the money Jackson so generously provided to play a different game entirely.

Two days later, dressed in a drab uniform, a cheap fabric mask covering the lower half of my face, I stood in the gleaming marble foyer of a luxurious beachfront villa an hour outside of Charleston. I'd paid the regular housekeeper a handsome sum to fake a family emergency and recommend me as her temporary replacement.

This was Scarlett's house. Jackson's other home.

The first thing I saw, hanging in the center of the grand living room, was a massive, framed family portrait. It wasn't the photo from the laptop. This one included my parents. The five of them-Jackson, Scarlett, Leo, Robert, and Eleanor Beaumont-were posed together, the very picture of dynastic bliss.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the head maid, a woman named Doris, said proudly, following my gaze. "The masters of the house."

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

Doris led me through the room, pointing out my duties. "That antique clock on the mantel," she said, gesturing to a familiar gold carriage clock, "was a gift from Mr. Beaumont to his grandson, Leo. A family heirloom."

A cold wave washed over me. I remembered begging my father for that exact clock as a wedding present. He'd refused, telling me it held too much significance to be given away so lightly. Apparently, it wasn't significant enough to deny his illegitimate grandson.

"And this cashmere blanket," Doris continued, picking up a soft, cream-colored throw from the sofa, "Mrs. Beaumont knitted it herself. **She told me she put more love into this for Leo than anything she ever made for her own daughter."**

The woman chuckled, oblivious. I felt nothing. Just a vast, cold emptiness where my heart used to be.

My task was to dust the endless family photos that lined the hallways. Photos of Jackson and Scarlett through the years-at proms, on vacations, their lives seamlessly intertwined. My own life with him was represented by a single, solitary wedding photo tucked away in his study. Here, their love was a living, breathing entity.

I was polishing a silver frame when I heard the sound of their laughter from the back garden. I froze, then quickly slipped into the shadows of the dining room.

Jackson, Scarlett, and Leo were returning from the stables, looking every bit the happy family. Leo was perched on Jackson's shoulders, giggling.

"I don't want him to have to hide forever, Jackson," Scarlett was saying, her voice serious for a moment. "He deserves to be acknowledged."

"He will be," Jackson soothed, lifting Leo down. "I promise. We just need more time." He knelt to look the boy in the eye. "Now, are you excited for your big birthday party in five days? Grandma and Grandpa are coming. They've arranged everything."

Five days. My plan now had a deadline.

I knew I had to leave. I had seen enough. As I turned to slip out the service entrance, I collided with a hard chest.

I stumbled back, my eyes flying up to meet Jackson's. He was looking down at me, his brow furrowed in suspicion.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice sharp. He hadn't recognized me in the dim light, with the mask and uniform. But something about me had set off his alarm bells.

His hand shot out, his fingers brushing the edge of my mask.

"Why are you covering your face?"