---

I didn’t know what I expected from her, but seeing her shock wasn’t on the list.

Tessa was too calm, too quiet, while she rummaged through her tiny armoire and grabbed a few clothing items. She placed them on the bed, where she folded them, and then arranged the pieces inside her duffel bag.

Although the funeral wasn’t until tomorrow, I had asked her to come with me to Willow Harbor this morning. Our lawyer wanted to talk to her about Isaac’s will. At first she had muttered something about her classes, then about a birthday party next weekend. But the next second, she was on her feet, marching across campus and into her small dorm room.

“Tessa, you’re scaring me,” I said, watching from beside the door as she snatched a toiletry bag from her dresser. “You’re acting weird.”

She turned those icy blue eyes to me. “You don’t know me. How can you tell I’m acting weird?”

I nodded. True. I didn’t really know her, though I knew all about her. “It’s okay to slow down and let it sink in, you know.”

Her brows furrowed as if she didn’t understand what I was saying. Another sign of her shock.

Her phone dinged and she reached for it from the nightstand, but her hand froze halfway to it. The drawer underneath was half open and, slowly, Tessa opened it all the way and picked up an old picture of her with her father when she was probably about three years old. One of the few pictures of them together.

Tessa dropped the picture as if it had burned her and turned to the window.

After a long stretch of silence, she said, “I’m sorry.” Her voice was like silk enveloping me, and I pushed it away. I didn’t want apologies or sympathies, especially not from her. “I know he was a father to you. To be honest, I think he was more your father than mine.”

I suppressed a groan. Shit, it was hard looking at her right now. At the beautiful girl standing by the window.

Tessa, wearing jeans and a pretty blouse that showed slight cleavage, leaned against the window frame and staring at the perfect yard outside. The sun streaming through the window illuminated her fair skin and her blue eyes; it made her blond hair shine like gold.

I would never forget the first time I met her. After hearing so much about her from Isaac, I was nervous about getting to know the girl who held his heart. Even though he only saw her once a year, or less if he could hang on, he loved her more than anything in life. Including me.

Eight years ago. I had been fifteen and she had been twelve. As their meetings usually went, Isaac was working on a case near the town she and her mother had moved to, and he had decided to stop to take her out for ice cream.

Isaac parked his 1969 Mustang in front of her house, and there she was. The sun shone on her, and she looked like an angel with her golden hair down and big blue eyes. She was wearing a charming blue dress and white sandals. She had a big smile on her face—until she saw me in the passenger’s seat.

Her grin became a frown.

Isaac went to meet her on the front porch. I couldn’t make out the words, but she screamed at him as tears streamed down her face. That day she refused to go out with us.

And Isaac never took me to see her again. We’d bumped into each other a couple of times over the years, mostly to her dismay.

Back then she was this perfect thing Isaac had put on a pedestal and adored.

Now? Now the cute little girl had grown up and become a beautiful woman. Despite her palpable hatred toward me, I couldn’t help but stare at her: at her enchanting face, her fascinating blue eyes, her silky hair, and her hot as sin body.

I cleared my throat and focused on her face. “I’m sorry too,” I confessed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.”

“I know you did all you could do,” she whispered.

Did I? I fought with all I had, and then I fought some more. Still, the demon won.

I cleared my throat. “Are you ready?”

She turned that beautiful face to me. “I think so.”

As if the dorm had caught fire, I opened the door and stepped out. “Then let’s go.”

---

---

Willow Harbor was said to be a beautiful small beach town on the South Carolina coast. A safe haven of sorts. Although I had heard plenty about it from my father the few times he had ever visited me, I hadn’t been here in many, many years. Since I was a baby, actually. The town was new to me.

I followed Landon’s sleek Mustang with my little Mazda down the main road leading into town. I slowed down as we passed through a beautiful entrance portico with an open gate—a big, heavy, wrought iron, beautiful gate.

Welcome to Willow Harbor, it read.

Instead of heading deeper into town, Landon turned right, onto a narrow, winding road flanked by tall trees. About half a mile later, Landon stopped his car in front of another pair of big wrought gates—but these were closed. Almost instantly the gates opened, letting us in. I followed him in my car another half mile down the same tree-covered winding road, until it opened into a wide curved driveway with a big fountain in the center and a huge gray stone manor just beyond. It looked straight out of a Hollywood movie with its three imposing stories, dark green roof, octagonal turrets, small windows, and stone steps.

I followed Landon past the curved road and into a hidden parking lot. Surprisingly, no other cars were here. Then, I saw the ramp at the end of the lot, and I could bet there was a big garage underneath the manor.

Landon parked in a center spot, and I parked beside him.

I exited my car, staring at the manor beside us. I had been here before, but I had never seen it as an adult.

“You don’t remember this place, do you?” Landon said, approaching me.

I shook my head. “I was told I was born here, though, before—” I cut my words off. I was sure he knew the story. I didn’t need to repeat it. Even thinking about it, about how my mother and I were practically pushed out the door right after my birth, hurt too much.

Landon grabbed my duffel bag from inside my car. “Come on.” He jerked his chin toward the manor. “The lawyer is probably waiting.”

He led me down a side path, toward the front of the manor. We climbed up the elegant stone steps and halted in front of the double brown doors. Landon punched in a few numbers in the automatic key lock, a soft click resonated, and then he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The place was even more imposing, beautiful, rustic, and dark on the inside.

Dark hardwood floors and wood paneling covered the walls. Two wide staircases sprouted from above the door and wound down the sides of the foyer. A colored mosaic of glass windows provided light from above the stairs. A chandelier with brushed golden details and fake candles hung from the slanted white ceiling, filling the space above the foyer. A fireplace was on the other side of the entrance. Two archways opened on either side of the fireplace, leading to what looked like a fancy living room. The Sanctum coat of arms—a big shield made of dark wood, with a closed fist drawn in the center, and the small number seven tattooed on the wrist—hung above the fireplace.

“Miss Ford.” A short man with graying hair appeared at the top of the winding stairs. He rushed down and met us on the first floor. “I’m Douglas Ward. Welcome to our house.”

Douglas Ward. My father had mentioned him before. He had been Isaac’s best friend and closest hunting partner.

“Please, call me Tessa,” I said, still trying to wrap my mind around everything.

“Has the lawyer arrived?” Landon asked Douglas.

Douglas’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He just called. He had an urgent appointment and won’t be able to make it today. Or the rest of the week. He’ll call soon to let us know when he’ll be able to come.”

“Shit,” Landon muttered.

“I can come back tomorrow,” I said.

“It’s such a long way,” Douglas said. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

My brows furrowed. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I can go to a hotel.”

“You should stay here,” Landon said, his tone firm. Resolute. He turned to the stairs. “Let’s get you settled then.”

I followed him up the stairs to the second floor. At the landing, he turned to me with a frown.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Would you like to stay in your father’s bedroom, or a guest bedroom?”

My throat seized. I couldn’t imagine lying down to sleep in the same bed my father had slept for years. I slowly shook my head. “A guest bedroom, please. But, I would like to see his room.”

Nodding, Landon turned right into the wide hallway. He pointed to the first door on the left as he walked past it. “This will be your bedroom.” He kept going to the end of the corridor, and then halted between two wooden doors before a thin, long window. He glanced to the door on the left. “This one is my room.” Then he opened the door on the right. “And this one is Isaac’s room.”

I stared at the dark room, not moving an inch. “This is so weird,” I whispered, so low I wasn’t sure Landon had heard me.

He cleared his throat. “Since the lawyer isn’t coming today, there’s nothing to do until the funeral tomorrow.” I flinched at the word funeral. My mind was still in limbo, and I hadn’t processed the idea of a funeral, much less that I would be attending one. “Take your time. I’ll put your bag in your bedroom. If you need anything, I’ll be in the office downstairs.”

Then he marched away. I watched as he paused at the guest bedroom, went in, and came back out ten seconds later, sans bag. Without looking back, he closed the door and went down the stairs.

I stared at the open door and the darkness behind it.

Gulping, I stepped forward and reached for the light switch. Yellowish light inundated the large room. I was surprised by what I found, and not because of the decorations. The dark furniture, the hardwood floors, and the thick brown curtains gave the room the same heaviness as the rest of the manor. I was surprised it was more than a bedroom. The door opened to a small sitting room with dark blue velvet couches. To the left, a small square dining table for four took over the space. To the right, stood a king-sized wooden bed, two nightstands, tall dressers, and two armchairs.

I meandered into the room and tried to spot any personal items, a thingamabob or a knickknack that would tell me more about my father. However, the suite was as pristine and plain as a hotel room. No portraits, no nondescript decoration items, no notebook, not even a tablet or computer.

I sat down on the couch, suddenly feeling as heavy as the suite and the manor.

And just like that, the tears assaulted me. I started crying for a man I barely knew.