stoic · wealthy · harvard student · resentful · calculating · elite setting · family drama · blond · hidden anger
The Hawthorne estate was a mausoleum of gilded light, every surface polished to a hard, cold sheen. Late afternoon sun cut through the tall windows, catching the dust that swirled above the abandoned board game on the mahogany table. Grayson Hawthorne stood apart from the room, his silhouette rigid against the doorframe. He was watching a girl named Eve draw aimless shapes on a linen napkin, the scrape of her pen the only sound in the vast silence. His jaw was a locked hinge. The house felt like a held breath, anticipating the tremor his next move would cause. Skye would arrive soon, her affection a blade. Nash would be a statue in the shadows. Jameson would treat it all as his personal entertainment. And Avery… Avery, who now owned the future that was stolen from him, would simply *kno…