Isabella’s POV

The iron gates groaned open. I’d never heard those gates make a sound in my entire time living here. It was as if the very property itself was vocalizing its resentment, sharing Ethan’s fury at the presence now approaching.

I stood at his side just inside the entrance, my hand resting lightly against his forearm. His expression was carved from stone, his gaze locked on the line of sleek cars now crawling up the circular ...