Ruben is a man on the edge. He has no idea where Freya has been taken.
He’s desperate. He’s out of his mind. With few options available to him, he decides to take the art world by storm and wait to see how his enemies react. Hoping he’ll get the attention of whoever took his bride, Ruben holds his breath.
But is he exposing them both to even more danger?
Freya was on the cusp of marrying the man of her dreams when it was all wrenched away.
A foe from the past arrived uninvited, determined to wreck her life. He’s got plans for Freya: to twist her thoughts, torture her mind and bring her into his arms. Whether she escapes his clutches will entirely depend on her strength of mind.
Freya has overcome so much already, but can she overcome this, too?
Nobody knows who’s taken her. Nobody can find her.
Only her wits will save her now.
The final instalment in the Legacy Trilogy contains surprises galore, answers all the questions that may have lingered and features some major new players who’ve always been there, meddling in the background. It’s time to find out whether true love really can conquer all.
[He] wanted me to spend a fearful night in the tower last night as the castle rattled and shook against the elements. The building is exposed out here for sure. Sitting in the conservatory, I’ve noticed how vulnerable this property is to mother nature’s wrath and it’s obvious the chateau sits in a clearing surrounded by forest and indeed, there are steep hillsides on one or more sides… like we’re perched right on top of a mountain.
There’s something that doesn’t feel right about this house. It certainly isn’t a home. What did André do for the people who lived here before? Does [he] actually live here? Or is this place a glorified holding cell he only uses occasionally, and André likes that most of the time, he’s left to his devices and can pretend he’s in charge and that this is his house?
There are two tall lamps in the conservatory I’ve switched on and they are lighting up the place now the sun has firmly sunk beneath the horizon. It’s chilly in here since the sunshine stopped streaming through, but the creaking of a radiator lets me know it’ll soon heat up. Still, I imagine André has lit the fires by now and I am seriously considering braving the drawing room.
The wicker chairs in this room are complemented by rugs that picture scenes of nature, strewn across the room to protect bare feet from the wicked tiled floor.
I’ve got my fill of daylight and I’ve read nearly three quarters of Rebecca which I pinched from the library earlier. Library…
Alexia had a library at the place in Mayfair. She once offered me the chance to take a first edition for myself. The books I’ve browsed so far are mostly in English, a few in Latin, very few in French and none written in Portuguese. Ruben once said his mother doesn’t read English or French or any other language besides Portuguese, so perhaps she isn’t a reader, or they had a library in their house just for show.
This cannot be her house, though. She’s been living in Portugal. Ruben couldn’t be mistaken about that. Unless…
My train of thought is interrupted when [he] arrives and stands in the doorway, wearing what he was sporting this morning—suit and tie.
“You’ve been in here all day.” His arms are folded and he’s looking down on me with revulsion.
“Where am I supposed to go?” I shoot back, painting on a fake grin.
He takes a few steps forwards and looks around the room as if he’s never stood in here before and finds it unattractive and disinteresting. “I would like for you to dress appropriately for dinner tonight. You have an hour to make yourself decent.”
“An hour’s fine,” I retort, “but what about you? Some people don’t have a decent bone in their body. Five years wouldn’t be enough to shave the filth off you.”
A smirk spreads across his face and annoyingly, he looks impressed. “Careful, Freya. Don’t go mistaking me for him.”
He turns on his heel and his ghostly silhouette is absorbed by the dimly lit hallway, his figure like a wraith shrinking as he gets further away, something inhuman about his movements at this time of the day when leisure, not haste, should be the mood.
I take a deep breath and meet André as I’m about to ascend the staircase.
“Would madame require any help?”
“He wants you to dress accordingly.”
I lean in and murmur, “If you tell me what this house is, and why I have period costume in my wardrobe, perhaps I will obey.”
He purses his lips and walks away.
I don’t have any friends here, after all.
**edited slightly to omit spoilers**
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