"In this game of power, love has always been the first casualty."
—Darien Crest
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Darien's Point of View
I'd chosen Aunt Devina's favorite five-star restaurant for the dinner. By six o'clock, I was already driving through the winding path that led to the Reed estate where she lived. The mansion looked as pristine as I remembered — tall, proud, and far too silent. The guards ushered me in with stiff courtesy, asking me to wait in the living room while they called the madam.
The air inside smelled faintly of rosewood polish and expensive perfume — the kind that lingered long after its wearer had left the room. I paced quietly, my footsteps echoing against the marble floor, when a voice — familiar and far too arrogant — reached my ears.
Derick.
I froze, leaning slightly against the wall as another, softer voice replied from the hall just beyond the corner. A woman's voice — low, uneasy.
