Chapter 3 - The Gathering Storm
Across the room, Isaac tossed the riding crop onto a glass side table, where it landed with a loud clatter. He smoothed down the front of his tux, picking up his glass of bourbon as if he had just finished a routine chore.
"Everybody go home," Isaac announced loudly, waving his hand toward the exit. "The party is over."
The guests moved quickly, eager to escape the tension, sliding toward the cloakroom without making eye contact with me.
Clover Bennett lingered near the entrance of the foyer. As she passed me, her silver dress still stained with red wine, she leaned close to my ear.
"You should've just apologized, Flora," she whispered, a smug, satisfied smirk on her face. "Now look at you."
I looked at her face, taking in every line of her makeup, every drop of wine on her dress. I didn't yell. I didn't reach for her hair.
I smiled.
The smile was slow, cold, and entirely devoid of fear. Clover’s smirk melted away, replaced by a sudden, uncertain flicker of hesitation. She pulled back, swallowed hard, and hurried out the front doors.
I walked stiffly toward the head table near the birthday cake. My purse was sitting beside the gold-lettered pastry. I unzipped the side pocket and pulled out my phone.
Behind me, Isaac was pouring himself another drink at the bar. "Flora, stop being dramatic. Go upstairs, clean yourself up, and we'll discuss your allowance in the morning."
I ignored him. I sat down on the wooden chair, unlocked my phone, and opened my contacts.
I hadn't dialed this number in four years.
I pressed the call button and placed the phone to my ear.
It didn't even ring twice.
"Flora?"
The voice was deep, gravelly, and instantly recognizable. Noah. My eldest brother.
Hearing his voice felt like an anchor dropping into a stormy sea. Tears threatened to fill my eyes, but I forced them back, hardening my posture.
"Noah," I said.
A pause on the line. I could hear the faint, ambient hum of a high-end vehicle engine in the background. "What happened?"
"I need all five of you," I said softly.
The silence that followed was absolute.
"Where are you?" Noah asked, his tone dropping into a flat, terrifying register that I hadn't heard since I was eighteen years old.
"The Vance estate."
"Did Isaac touch you?"
I looked down at my wrists, where dark purple rings were already forming under the bright lights of the ballroom. "Yes."
"How bad?"
"Bad enough."
A sharp intake of breath whistled through the receiver. "Put him on the phone."
"No," I said firmly. "I don't want you talking to him. I want you here."
"We're already close," Noah replied.
I frowned, taking the phone away from my ear for a fraction of a second before bringing it back. "What do you mean, you're close?"
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"We've been in New York since yesterday, Flora," Noah said quietly. "Walk away from Isaac right now."
Before I could ask him what he meant, a low, metallic boom rattled the heavy glass windows of the ballroom.
