Chapter 2

Arthur stood by the door, blocking our path. He wasn't yelling, he wasn't even angry. He looked amused, a slight smirk playing on his lips. His body was rigid, a wall of expensive fabric and cold indifference.

"And where do you two think you're going?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

I didn't answer. I just looked past him, at the dark driveway beyond.

From deeper within the house, we could hear a sudden cheer. It was Ethan and his son, Dylan, playing some video game. Their laughter echoed through the hall, a jarring sound of ignorant bliss. They had no idea we were leaving. They wouldn't even notice we were gone until they needed something.

A sudden, hard rain began to fall outside, the sky opening up without warning. It was hot and humid, and the rain came down in sheets. I pulled the thin coat tighter around myself. Daisy opened a small umbrella she had grabbed, tilting it over my head, leaving her own shoulder exposed to the downpour. Her hand was a warm, steady pressure on my back.

We walked away from the mansion's imposing silhouette, down the long, winding driveway. The rain soaked through Daisy's thin dress. When we reached the main gate, I saw the fabric clinging to her skin. I stopped.

"Daisy," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "You're getting wet."

She shook her head, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. I noticed a small scrape on her hand, probably from when she was packing. I reached into my pocket for the small first-aid kit I always carried. I took out a bandage and gently began to wrap her hand. Her skin was cold.

Her eyes turned to me, and I saw them get red around the edges. She quickly looked away.

A taxi finally appeared, its headlights cutting through the rain. We got in, the worn seats a strange comfort after five years of cold leather. I gave the driver the address for the high-speed train station. A new chapter was beginning, one that would take us back to our coastal hometown, back to the only thing our father had left us that wasn't a debt.

My phone rang, the screen lighting up with Arthur's name. I hesitated, then answered.

"Where did you put my silver cufflinks?" His voice was clipped, annoyed. Not "Where are you?" or "Are you okay?". Just a question about his possessions.

My fingers curled into a tight fist in my lap. I forced my voice to stay calm, the way he had trained me to. "They're in the top right drawer of your dresser, in the black velvet box."

"Fine," he said. "I've cleared out all my things," I added, the words feeling heavy and final.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "What did you say?"

"I've left, Arthur."

"Where did you go?" he demanded, his voice finally losing its bored edge.

"Where did you go?" he repeated, louder this time, the control in his voice cracking to reveal the anger beneath.