⸻ ❛𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒!❜
Rory Hargrove is obsessed to uncover the truth behind Barbara Holland's disappearance, while facing her brother's enemy and buried secrets from...
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THE MUSIC WAS STILL LOUD. So loud that it made their ears pound.
It was two in the morning. Mr. and Mrs. Harrington cruised slowly down their familiar avenue, the glossy black Cadillac moving like a shadow through the night. A business trip to New York had drained them, but exhaustion gave way to disbelief as the music echoed through the quiet, polished neighborhood like a rogue wave.
"What is all this noise? As far as I know, our avenue is usually quiet." Audrey Harrington complained, impatiently fiddling with her short, immaculate blonde hair.
"It's Halloween, darling, it's normal for young people to do foolish things at this time of year. Don't you see all those kids going around in masks trick-or-treating?" Eric replied in his hoarse, velvety voice.
Audrey snorted, her irritation sharpening like a blade. "I had forgotten about this awful time of year," she muttered. "I hope Stevie turned off the ringer to not get distracted by those teens."
"I doubt he's even home, Drey. I'd bet anything he's at some party himself."
A muscle in Audrey's jaw twitched. "Don't even joke about that. Midterms are coming up, and his grades are already slipping. He's been lying to us."
They turned onto their street, and the music swelled—pulsing, consuming, alive. And then they saw it.
Cars. Dozens of them. Littered across the driveway, some brazenly parked on the flawless emerald lawn. The pristine Harrington estate, their temple of wealth and prestige, had been invaded.
"What the hell is this?" she hissed, her voice like acid. The second the Cadillac stopped, she threw the door open, her black stiletto heels clicking against the pavement with lethal precision.
She stormed up the front steps, the tailored black blazer clinging to her like armor. Without hesitation, she pushed the door open—
And the chaos swallowed them whole.
A sea of costumed teenagers swayed and stumbled through their marble-floored sanctuary, their sweaty bodies colliding against the luxurious furniture, their drunken laughter curdling in the air. Stains of alcohol and God-knows-what seeped into the imported cashmere rugs.
"Steve!" Audrey's voice ripped through the air like a gunshot, but it was useless. The crowd was too drunk, too wild.
Her pulse roared in her ears. Enough.
She stormed to the hidden power panel near the foyer and yanked the switch.
