Beau reached into his jacket, removed a small velvet box, and handed it to me with composure that felt unshakeable. Inside was a key and a tag from a boutique I had never been inside. He turned back to my mother. “I am fully aware of what you have done,” he said. His tone was icy but not loud. “This situation is not finished.”
Then he looked at me. “Come with me. We are leaving.”
As we crossed the threshold, I felt the weight of the silence press against my back. I could feel one final question hanging in the air behind me like a storm cloud.
Who was Beau Kingsley, really. And what would happen now that the truth had stepped inside the house they used to control.
The drive through Savannah felt endless. Streetlights flickered across the windshield. My reflection looked like a stranger. Beau drove with practiced precision, not uttering a word until we reached a stoplight where the red glow washed his face in a muted crimson.
“I am sorry,” I whispered. Hearing my voice out loud surprised me. “I did not want you to see any of that.”
His eyes met mine. “Selena, you have been shielding them for years. That ends today.”
