CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Vaughn
The estate sits on two hundred acres of manicured perfection in the Virginia countryside, an hour outside of D.C.
Old money.
The kind that's been accumulating since before the Civil War.
The kind that built this Greek Revival mansion with its towering white columns and symmetrical wings that spread across the landscape like arms ready to embrace or crush depending on your worthiness.
Tonight, it's hosting the Consortium's spring showcase.
Tonight, it's the stage for my betrayal.
The circular drive is already crowded with luxury vehicles when we arrive.
Bentleys and Rolls Royces and custom Maybachs.
License plates from New York, California, Texas, overseas.
The Consortium's reach is global.
Callum pulls up to the entrance where uniformed valets wait to park the cars.
I look at Eden beside me.
She's pale but composed in the black silk dress.
My mother's diamond catches the light at her throat.
"Last chance," I say quietly.
"Stop asking me that." Her hand finds mine. Squeezes. "We're doing this. Together."
I nod.
I can't speak past the tightness in my throat.
We step out of the car.
The entrance is lit by enormous lanterns that cast everything in warm golden light.
The kind of lighting designed to make everyone look their best.
To make the grotesque seem beautiful.
Other Consortium members are arriving.
I recognize most of them.
Men in tuxedos, women in evening gowns.
And with them—acquisitions.
Young women, mostly. Some men.
All beautiful.
