Chapter 2

"Put the bed back."

The movers froze. One still held a white wooden rail with ROSE carved underneath it.

Adrian appeared at the top of the stairs, Celeste behind him. The Crown Key was still hanging against her dress.

"They were supposed to finish before you came home," he said.

"So the problem is that Rose saw it?"

Rose hugged her stuffed rabbit to her chest. "Dad, I can share."

Adrian sighed. "You don't have to share. You'll use the guest room."

"But Grandpa made this bed."

"It's old, Rosie."

"He made it for me."

Celeste walked into the room and turned toward the windows. "The nursery designer was right. A boy needs the better sunlight."

I stared at her. "Then give him your room."

"There are six bedrooms in this house."

"Exactly. Choose one that doesn't already belong to a child."

Adrian stepped between us. "Stop attacking her."

"Then stop letting her take from Rose."

"No one is taking anything at all," he said.

Rose looked at the key on Celeste's chest, the bags around her feet, and the pieces of her bed.

"Okay," she whispered.

That one word made my anger turn cold.

My phone buzzed. A payment alert showed that money had been taken from Rose's education fund and sent to a nursery design company.

At that moment, deliverymen carried a box into the hall. A gold-trimmed crib was pictured on the side.

Celeste smiled. "That's the custom one."

I held the phone up to Adrian. "You bought their baby's furniture with Rose's education money?"

"It's family money."

"Her name is on the account."

Rose looked from the crib to her broken bed. "Did you use my school money to buy his bed?"

Adrian rubbed his forehead. "You have more than enough."

"But it was mine."

"Your mother is making you feel that way."

His jaw tightened. "Go downstairs, Rose."

"No. " I said.

Celeste picked up a paint sample. "Our baby will love this room when it's finished."

Rose's fingers closed around mine.

"If he gets my key and my room, do I have to move out too?"

For a heartbeat, Adrian looked almost sorry.

Then Celeste said, "The painters come tomorrow."

He turned to Rose. "Tomorrow, you're leaving."

"What did you say?" I asked.

He led us across the hall to the guest room.

Rose's clothes had already been packed. A suitcase stood beside the door, zipped and tagged with her name.

On the desk was a blue folder from St. Catherine's Residential Academy.

I opened it. Rose's photograph was clipped to an enrollment form Adrian had signed. The school was six hours away.

"You enrolled her without telling me?"

"She needs structure."

Rose looked at the suitcase. "Is it a trip?"

I closed the folder. "No. You're not going."

"Don't promise what you can't control," Adrian said.

I pulled her close. "You are not going anywhere without me."

Adrian lifted the suitcase and placed it in the hall.

"The car comes at eight."