I shut the door to my room, leaning my back against the cold wood.
My hands trembled, but it wasn't fear that coursed through me—it was anger.
Fury burned hot and unyielding as I replayed everything I'd overheard in the garden.
Bruno had lied to me. The man who had sworn he was being honest, who had promised no secrets between us, had woven an intricate tale to keep me in the dark.
My half-sister, his first wife, hadn't been a runaway bride; she had been murdered. Killed while carrying his child.
I ran my hands through my hair, pacing the room as I tried to make sense of it all.
My chest felt tight, my breaths shallow.
Why would he lie about something so important? And if he could lie about that, what else was he hiding?
My gaze flickered to the far corner of the room where the small desk stood. It wasn't just anger fueling me now—it was determination.
