Vivian tried to pull away, her expensive heels clicking frantically on the floor.

“Let go of me,” Vivian snapped. “I can walk myself.”

“Then walk, Mrs. Mercer,” Mr. Han said, gesturing toward the doors.

We followed them out of the ballroom and into the main lobby.

The guests from the dinner were lingering near the bar, watching the scene unfold in silence.

Whispers broke out as the Mercer family was led past the brass stanchions.

“Is that Vivian Mercer?” someone whispered from the lounge.

“What’s happening to them?” another guest murmured.

Vivian kept her chin high, but her hands were shaking so hard she had to clutch her coat to her chest.

Claire kept her face buried in her hands, weeping loudly as they reached the grand entrance.

The cold night air hit us as the glass doors slid open.

Outside, the wet driveway glistened under the amber estate lights.

The wind smelled of salt and wet pine needles from the cliffs.

At the end of the long driveway, nearly a quarter of a mile away, the black iron gates of Lotus Bay stood closed.