(BLACKWOOD’S ISLAND)

Franklin stormed into the mansion with heavy, furious footsteps that echoed angrily against the marble floor.

The front door slammed so hard behind him that one of the guards flinched. He didn’t care. His chest was burning and his head was pounding with emotions he couldn’t even name, be it anger, confusion, jealousy, fear, desperation, everything twisted together.

As expected, his mother was already waiting for him.

Delilah stood in the center of the living room with her arms folded, posture sharp, eyes cold and unreadable, like she had been standing there long before he even arrived, anticipating the storm he carried.

Franklin tore off his jacket and...