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The even swing of her hips captivates me briefly as she leaves. I shake my head as if to rid myself of the temporary spell Aspen has over me and head back through the ravine toward the house.
Ours is the biggest in Cypress Gardens—Flint had seen to that. Part of the reason we lived in separate residences for so long after Alex and Ryker’s deaths was because Flint was negotiating the purchase of the pale-yellow mansion. It had belonged to the couple, our longtime friends, but with their estate tied up and the bureaucratic red tape, it had taken much longer than we had expected to get Lily back into her rightful childhood home, leaving her bouncing from house to house while Ryan and Zoe maintained it.
It boasts its own ravine, and the creek line technically runs through the property, too, but we share it with the others on the cul-de-sac to avoid drama—even though I would have preferred to keep it to ourselves. Too often, neighbors pop by when I’m trying to work.
Ambling up the back pathway, I encounter Ryan by the pool, skimming dead leaves off the surface. He’s a jack of all trades. Driver, maintenance worker, pool boy—the female version of Zoe, who cooks, cleans, and often minds Lily in our absence. Before Aspen, that is.
“Good morning, Pike,” Ryan calls out. I barely grunt a response, but Ryan adds something that makes my blood run cold. “There’s mail for you.”
I pause mid-step and eye him. “Mail?” I repeat. “From whom?” He wouldn’t tell me there was mail if it was simply junk mail.
Ryan flips his head back and shrugs. “I’m not sure. It’s on the front table. Do you want me to get it for you?”
I hurry inside through the back door, my pulse racing.
The Hartleys wouldn’t be writing. They’d come right to the door—assuming they’ve figured out where I moved.
But why would they? After my parents died, my siblings and I parted ways with our trust funds, and that was fine with me.
But Cypress Gardens isn’t a big town. Flint and Caden don’t exactly keep a low profile.
Zoe encounters me as I stalk through the hallway. “You all right, Pike? Need something?”
“No,” I mumble, brushing past the housekeeper, my mind singularly focused.
Like Ryan said, the single letter sits on the elegant mahogany table in the center of the foyer. It’s odd to see mail, every bill and statement sent electronically now. I pick it up, my eyes bulging when I see my name on the handwritten envelope.
Mr. Pike Hartley.
Never had seeing my name instilled so much terror in me, the return address telling me everything I need to know. Without opening it, I stride toward Flint’s office, my mind whirling. I don’t bother knocking, and I barge in.
He’s in the middle of a call, and he frowns deeply when he sees me. “Let me call you back,” he says through his mouthpiece.
I toss the letter at him. The blood drains from his face, but as always, Flint remains perfectly calm. “Another one?”
“Are you going to open it?” I demand, folding my arms over my chest.
He doesn’t reply and instead picks up his phone to fire off a text.
“Flint!”
He drops the phone and looks at me. “Stop freaking out,” he orders me firmly. “They’re just trying to rattle us.”
“They’re doing a damn good job,” I snap. “When is this bullshit going to stop?”
“I’ll have my lawyers send a cease-and-desist order,” Flint says. “Again.”
“A lot of good that did last time,” I bark. “They only doubled down, sending twice as many letters.”
“We’ll threaten them with legal action if they continue.”
The door opens, and Caden flies through in his usual dramatic fashion. “You summoned me, my liege?”
He bows, and Flint’s scowl overtakes his entire face. “Raya Parker is writing again.”
All of Caden’s faux gusto dissipates, and ire colors his eyes. “What is she saying now?”
“I imagine most of the same shit as last time,” Flint sighs, indicating the still sealed letter. “That she and Matthew are Lily’s only living relatives and deserve custody.”
