CHAPTER 3: WHEN THE HOUSE STARTED TALKING
The first scream didn’t come from Harper.
It came from downstairs.
A woman.
Then another voice.
“Cameras—where did these cameras come from?!”
Screens flickered to life across the ballroom.
Security feeds.
Hidden angles.
The library.
The hallway.
The desk.
Every moment.
Every blow.
Every lie.
Broadcast in real time.
Guests froze, watching Grayson Langford strike his own daughter, hearing him threaten, manipulate, destroy.
A judge stepped back.
A reporter dropped her glass.
A donor whispered, “Oh my God…”
Upstairs, Grayson’s face drained of color.
“You—” he turned toward Dominic, voice shaking now. “You set this up.”
Dominic didn’t deny it.
“The house,” he said calmly, “is telling the truth.”
Paige stumbled backward.
May you like
Celeste grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself.
Because suddenly, their power—carefully built over decades—was collapsing in minutes.
