The gates were already open when Grayson's car rolled in. Too open. Too exposed. Cars lined the driveway, black, silver, unfamiliar.

Cameras flashing everywhere. Different voices shouting different questions.

Even before stepping out, he could hear them.

~ “ Ma'am, is it true he was here last night?”

~ “ Mrs. Beaumont, did you have any personal dealings with Mr. Hudson?”

~ “ Do you think his death is connected to your family?” Another reporter shouted the question.

Grayson’s jaw tightened, and he saw his father stepped forward just then.

“ We have nothing to say. We've told the police everything we know.” Mr. Blake gently answered.

But behind them...