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My family isn’t local to Thorn Falls, not technically. My father was born here, my brothers and I were born here, but in a hundred years, they’ll still remember we weren’t there when the town was founded, unlike the Archers and Stones and Cornwells.Our ancestors were in Imperial Russia back then.
My grandmother had a house built toward the bottom of the hill, because that was the only land she could purchase, but a few years back, one of the largest, highest houses on the hill went up for sale. We can always count on useless blue blood heirs to squander their heritage.We bought Rothford Hall, and my father renamed it the Golden Hall.
Yeah, the blue bloods have issues with that. And Pa definitely likes that they do.
Now it’s home.
It looks nothing like it used to, fully renovated by his best architects. The modern manor only kept a few of the original features—the facade, one stone wall. The rest is smooth lines, open windows, full of light.
Driving past the gate and right onto the courtyard, the first thing I see is my smiling mother, in a long white dress flowing in the soft breeze. She never wears anything but show pieces, even when she’s going for comfortable and homey. I don’t know if she’s satisfying her tastes or my father with her wardrobe.
Unprompted, I think about Sarah and her terrible dresses. Maybe that’s one of the things that drew me in. Some guys—such as my little brother, to name one—basically pick the clone of their own mothers. Others choose the opposite.
Not that I’ve chosen Sarah for anything. But clearly, I am intrigued.
Ma is grinning at our elder brother, and her smile widens even more as she takes in my car.
She looks nothing like me, this short, cute mother of mine, just like the pretty young thing who birthed Magnus looks nothing like him. I’ve never had a chance to meet Markus’s birth mother, but she likely didn’t share much of her genes either. All three of us are carbon copies of the man framed in the large, double-door entrance.Our biggest differences are our eyes.
At least we know what we’ll look like in twenty years.
“What’s going on?” Magnus demands, striding to the head of our house the moment our mother frees him to come to greet us.
She hugs me, as I knew she would, but she reaches out to run her hand along Markus’s cheek. “My boys. Together. It’s been too long.”
Four months, in fact; the last time we all gathered here was Christmas Day.Pa kicked us out after the third fight.
“Ma, you saw Dez and me for dinner a week ago,” Markus says.
Because he makes certain to dine with her, in his quest to prove he’s a lovely, thoughtful little boy.
I roll my eyes at him over her shoulder, making clear I know he’s full of shit.
“Why did Pa call us?” I can’t help asking.
She only sighs. “Come on, then, my darlings. Let’s get a drink before we have that conversation.”
10
MARIUS
Ican’t believe what I’m seeing.
The video’s crap, badly angled, and most of the faces are cut out, but there’s no denying what it is: yesterday’s party. Taken from a perspective I recognize. Right where she was—where we were—at the edge of the woods.
And it's online.
She posted a video of us online.
I can't recognize any faces. And when it looks like I should get a full shot, it's purposely cut out.
When the video stops playing, the screen turns black, and the words "I'll share your secrets if you don't send me 100000" flash on the screen.
Holy fucking shit.
My eyes slide directly to my brother—the one who stays silent.
I know for a fact Magnus would have immediately announced he knew the culprit if he'd noticed Sarah there. He wouldn't think better of it for a single second. But Markus? I know he saw her—us.
