AARON’S POV

The wheels of the last suitcase thudded dully against the marble floors of the Blackwood mansion as the butler and two other servants hustled to load it into my car. I stood there for a moment, hands shoved deep into the pockets of my jacket, watching the home I had grown up in with a detached sort of emptiness.

It didn’t feel like home anymore.

Not with the ghosts hanging in the air. Not with betrayal thick enough to choke on.

I glanced toward the ...