THE KASTELLAN HEIR.

RAIN AT THE GATE.

It was raining again.

Ronan stood under the arched roof of the front porch of the Kastellan estate, watching the water fall in sheets across the gravel drive. A single lamp burned beside the iron gates. Beneath it, drenched and shaking, stood a woman in a thin gray coat.

Vivienne.

He had told the guards to let her wait. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps he wanted to make her stand in the rain, just for a little while, the way he had stood in it. Perhaps he was afraid of what his own face would do when he saw hers.

She'd been out there for an hour. Her hair clung to her cheeks. Her makeup had run in dark rivers down her face. The coat was too thin, and her arms were wrapped around herself, trembling.

Sienna, standing at his shoulder, said nothing. She held a large black umbrella, and her silence spoke plainly.

"Say it," Ronan said.

"Don't let her in."

"You think she's a trap?"

"I think she's a woman who watched you drown and didn't lift a finger." Sienna's voice was tight. "But I also think you need to hear what she says. And I think you already decided to let her in."

Ronan exhaled. She was right. He gave a short nod to the guard at the gate.

The iron hinges creaked. Vivienne stumbled through, hunched against the rain, and stopped at the foot of the stone steps, staring up at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

"Ronan."

"You have five minutes."

"Please." Her teeth were chattering. "Not out here. I can't. I need to tell you something, and I need you to hear it before you decide what to do with me."

"Talk."

She looked at Sienna, who met her gaze without blinking. Then she looked back at Ronan and something in her face crumpled.

She had put one hand on the iron gatepost as if the ground were tilting under her. Even from the porch, he could see her lips had turned blue. Behind him, Alfred had appeared with a mug of hot tea and a second, larger umbrella, and stood with a patient, tactful silence that somehow managed to say I would like to bring her inside without a single word.

Ronan didn't move.

Sienna's umbrella dipped a fraction lower, shielding him from a gust of wind, and he realized she had stepped half a pace closer without being asked. It was a small, fierce, protective gesture, and he was more grateful for it than he could say.

"Speak," he said. "You're wasting your five minutes."

Vivienne dragged in a breath. Her voice, when it came, was barely a thread.

"I never wanted the divorce," she said.

The rain fell between them.

"That's a lie," Ronan said quietly. "You kissed him in my office."

"I did what my mother told me to do." She was crying openly now, her voice cracking. "She's been in debt since before Grandfather died. Hundreds of thousands. Then millions. To a private lender. And the man who holds it, who owns us, is a company called Neville Capital."

Ronan's hand went still on the railing.

"They called it a loan, but it was a leash. And when Grandfather died, they told her the debt could be forgiven if I married someone useful. Someone connected. And if you refused to sign the divorce papers..." She wiped her nose with her sleeve. "They told her to make you."

"Make me."

"Hire Preston. Push you out. Smash your reputation. It wasn't only about the money, Ronan. Neville wanted you alone. No job. No friends. No home. He said it would be easier."

Cold fear slid down Ronan's spine. "Easier for what?"

"I didn't know!" She took a step forward, holding out her hands. "I swear to God I didn't know. I thought it was just Mother being Mother. I thought he wanted to shame you, to hurt you. I didn't know he was going to kill you!"

A long moment passed. Above them, thunder growled across the mountain, and the estate's windows flashed white.

"You should have told me," Ronan said.

"I know."

"I would've helped."

"I know." She sobbed. "But I was so ashamed. Grandfather was gone. Mother said you were nothing and that you'd only drag us down. And I believed her because it was easier than being brave."

Sienna shifted, her jaw working. Ronan could see the war in her face: contempt, suspicion, and something softer, some flicker of pity.

"Why are you here now?" he asked.

"Because they aren't finished." Vivienne wrapped her arms around herself. "Coleman came home last night, and he was gloating. He said Aldric paid him half a million dollars for your documents. And then this morning I heard Mother on the phone. Aldric's people told her you would be dead by the weekend."

"By the weekend?"

"He's going to finish what he started. And when he's done with you, Ronan, he won't leave my family alone. We know too much. We are too much. I'm scared." She looked up at him, water streaming down her face. "I'm so scared."

Ronan looked down at her.

He had imagined this moment for weeks. He'd pictured her on her knees. He'd pictured himself cold and magnificent, sending her away with a single sentence. He had rehearsed the words in the shower and in the car and in the dark.

He found he couldn't remember any of them.

"Come inside," he heard himself say.

"Ronan," Sienna hissed.

"She's shivering, Sienna."

"She helped them."

"She was a pawn." He met her eyes. "So was I."

Vivienne stepped up onto the porch, stumbling. Alfred appeared silently with a blanket. She wrapped it around her shoulders and looked up at Ronan, and for one shaky heartbeat, the ruin of her face was terribly young.

"There's one more thing," she whispered.

"What?"

"I can help you. Aldric is holding a private party at the capital, a week from tonight. The whole board will be there. My mother's already on the guest list; she's supposed to bring me." She took a shuddering breath. "He trusts us. He thinks we belong to him. If you let me go..."

"No," said Sienna.

"...I could get close to him. Close enough to record him. Close enough to make him talk."

The porch fell silent.

Ronan looked at her, then at Sienna, then out at the rain.

"You want to spy on the man who killed my parents," he said slowly. "For me."

"For you," Vivienne said. "And for my grandfather. And for me. I don't want to be his puppet anymore."

Her eyes held his, and for the first time in four years, they were not cold.

"But I'll need one thing from you first," she said.

"What?"

"Promise you'll spare my family. My mother, my brother. Whatever they've done." Her lip quivered. "They're all I have left."

Behind them, a door creaked. Alfred stood in the hall, holding a phone at arm's length, his face gray.

"Sir," he said. "It's the hospital."

Ronan's heart stopped.

"Mr. Emeric is awake," the butler said. "And he is asking for you. He says he has something to tell you about the night your parents died, and he says it can't wait."