Chapter 188
Chapter 188:
Inside the main house, the foyer had the feeling of a stage set for a tragedy. The crystal chandelier was dim, half its bulbs burnt out, casting long skeletal shadows across wallpaper that had once been silk and was now peeling from the walls in slow, defeated curls.
The heavy oak front door swung open with a violent bang.
Anson Hyde stepped over the threshold.
He didn’t look like a man paying a social call. He looked like an executioner who had run out of patience. His charcoal suit was immaculate, tailored to perfection, but his physical state betrayed everything beneath it. His eyes were hollowed out, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them, and his face was gaunt. He vibrated with a barely contained, manic energy.
“Anson!” Sienna spun away from the hallway mirror, where she had been pinching color into her cheeks. She plastered a bright, desperate smile onto her face and stepped toward him, arms beginning to open. “I knew you’d come back for p>
Anson sidestepped her without breaking stride. He didn’t look at her. To him, she was furniture.
“Where is she p>
His voice was flat. Dead. It carried a weight that made the air in the foyer feel thin.
Margo descended the grand staircase, wiping her hands on her skirt. She took in the desperation in Anson’s posture, the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. She didn’t see a threat. She saw an ATM machine walking into her hall.
F𝗼l𝗅𝗈w 𝘶𝘴 o𝘯
“Mr. Hyde. Welcome,” Margo said, her voice thick with false warmth. “It’s been a long time p>
“I’m not here for pleasantries, Margo,” Anson said, scanning the house. “I know she’s here. I know Buck brought her here p>
“She came to visit,” Margo corrected, reaching the bottom step. “Family matters p>
“I want to see her,” Anson said, moving toward the stairs. “Now p>
“Of course. We all want what’s best for Eliza.” Margo stepped smoothly into his path. She gestured toward the study door to her right. “But first, we should talk. About the price of admission p>
Anson stopped. His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me p>
“Come in, Anson,” Buck called from the study. “We have business p>
Anson glared at Margo, then pushed through into the study. The room smelled of old paper, mildew, and cheap brandy. Buck stood behind the desk, pouring a drink with hands that weren’t entirely steady. He looked pale and sweaty, but his eyes held the same bright, acquisitive gleam as his wife’s.
Margo followed and pulled a thick manila file from the desk drawer. She dropped it onto the mahogany surface with a heavy thud.
“We know you’ve been watching her for years,” Margo said softly, closing the door behind her. “We know about the payments p>
Anson’s posture stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about p>
“The tuition payments,” Buck said, taking a long swallow of brandy. “The medical bills. The charitable contributions to her university that kept her enrolled. You paid for her dormitory. You paid off the dean when she missed finals p>
Margo tapped the file. “And we have the photographs. The private investigator you hired to follow her — his clerk was very forthcoming. For a price p>