The Vane Estate wasn't a home; it was a mausoleum of stolen ambition. Located on a private cliffside in the Hamptons, the glass-and-steel structure hung over the Atlantic like a predator's open jaw.
Reid gripped the steering wheel of the black SUV so hard his knuckles looked like white marble. We had been driving in silence for an hour, the weight of Julianne's "Blood-Union" threat sitting between us like a physical barrier.
"Reid," I said, reaching over to touch his arm. "You're vibrating. Talk to me."
"My father didn't just sell my name, Maya," Reid rasped, his eyes fixed on the winding road ahead. "He sold the only thing I had left of my mother. The Vane family... Julianne's father, Silas Vane, was the one who funded the London project. When it failed, Silas didn't want the money back. He wanted the Sterling lineage to serve as his 'Architects' for life. He's the reason Eleanor was in that cell. He's the reason she's... gone."
