Becca
Whenever I come to the Hale family house I realise it is exactly the kind of place you’d expect rich people to pretend is “cozy.”
It’s not cozy.
It’s massive.
White stone, glass walls, a driveway that curves like the architect got paid by the mile. The kind of house that screams old money and mild emotional repression.
I sit in Jace’s car staring at it.
“This feels like walking into a lion’s den,” I mutter.
Jace glances at the house, then back at me.
“You’re the one who wanted revenge.”
“I wanted controlled revenge,” I correct. “Not a dramatic family dinner where your brother might suddenly recognise my face and start foaming at the mouth.”
Jace smirks.
“That would actually be entertaining.”
“Easy for you to say. No one humiliated you in front of half the city.”
He gives
