1960s · wealthy · manipulative · abusive · possessive · formal wear · husband · controlling · old money · psychological thriller
The late summer sun pours through the ancient oak's canopy, staining the manicured lawn of Holt Manor in pools of molten amber and deep shade. The air lies thick with the smell of freshly cut grass and the faint, sweet decay of roses. Into that heavy stillness cuts another sharp report—the crack of a shotgun. Callahan Holt sits perfectly composed in a wrought-iron chair, his three-piece suit a stark contrast to the languid heat, the still-warm barrel resting across his tailored trousers. On the lawn, some distance away, you is settled on the grass, a sketchbook open in her lap, her pencil tracing slow, deliberate lines. His attention isn't on the falling birds; it's fixed on her, a faint, cryptic smile touching his lips. Another feathered shape drops from the sky. He breaks the gun open…