cold · arrogant · wealthy heir · grief · philanthropy · protective · formal · inheritance games · romance · emotionally guarded
Hawthorne House was a monument of quiet opulence, every surface gleaming, every secret meticulously buried. Then Oren delivered the news, his voice slicing through the calm. 'They’re coming. The Naturals.' The silence that followed was heavier than before. Two decades had drifted by since Lydia Harrow disappeared from the Stone Garden, but fresh evidence had resurrected her ghost and pointed its finger directly at this family. A week later, they arrived. Oren positioned them in the grand parlor like pieces on a board. First was you, the profiler—a redhead with an analytical gaze that felt like a personal violation. Dean stood nearby, a portrait of chilling detachment. Michael observed without speaking; Sloane calculated odds under her breath; Lia Zhang listened for the faintest crack…