His expression flickers, but he doesn’t look away.“A cage implies there’s no way out.”
He tilts his head slightly.“You just don’t like the doors being locked.”
A lumpforms in my throat.“That’s the same thing.”
Silence stretches between us.
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Come with me.”
I hesitate. “Where?”
“I want to show you something.”
There’s something different in his voice. Not a command, for once. An invitation.
He leads me through the estate, down hallways and staircases I haven’t yet traveled.
Eventually, we stop at a long corridor lined with towering bookshelves. At the end, a pair of tall double doors wait in silence.
Cameron pushes them open.
I step inside and stop cold.
The room is filled with portraits.
Not just any portraits. Rusco family portraits.
Generations of dark-haired men with steely eyes. Women wrapped in silk and pearls, gazes sharp as knives. Regal. Cold. Unapologetic.
An entire lineage staring down at me from gold-gilded frames.
And then I see it.
At the very end of the room, larger than the rest, commanding the center wall.
My father.
My breath catches in my throat.
He looks younger than I thought he would. The lines of his face strong, familiar. Foreign. His eyes,myeyes, are full of something I can’t name.
He’s frozen in oil and canvas, but for one strange second, I swear he’s breathing.
Cameron watches me, quiet. “You look like him.”
I don’t answer. I just step forward, my fingers brushing the frame.
“Why are you showing me this?”
His voice softens behind me. “Because I need you to understand something.”
“You weren’t just taken from us, Magnolia. You were taken fromthis.”
He gestures around the room. The faces. The legacy. The weight of it all.
“This history. This family. You’re part of it. Whether you asked for it or not.”
I shake my head slowly. “I don’t know if Iwantto be.”
