Amber was a stranger; her cruelty was just weather.

But Garnet was ours.

And he laughed.

Chapter 3 — The Retired Accountant

The wedding was held at Hawthorne Hall, a handsome estate on forty acres that Amber believed my son had secured through a wealthy family friend.

She did not know that Hawthorne Hall was owned, through a chain of holding companies, by me.

She believed I was a retired accountant — a mild, frugal old man who spent his days in the garden and argued with the cashier over expired coupons.

I had gone to some trouble, over the years, to encourage exactly that belief.