Charis
The terrace of Rhett's pack house was peaceful in the evening light. I lounged in one of the comfortable chairs, my stomach full from dinner, but my mind anything but settled.
The conversation with Rhett and Slater kept replaying in my head. They'd both been so certain that Isolde had manipulated me that what I'd overheard was just part of some elaborate trap. And logically, I knew they were probably right. Isolde Knox could be dangerous, cunning, and always three steps ahead of everyone else.
But what if they were wrong?
What if Eva Greye really wasn't my mother?
The thought made my chest ache. I'd spent my whole life believing I knew who I was, where I came from. The idea that it was all a lie felt like standing on ground that was slowly crumbling beneath my feet.
Was that why my father had treated me like I was trash? Was that why he'd always been cruel to me? Perhaps he knew.
