The Inheritors Of Iron And Ash And The Unmarked Graves Of Blackwood Estate

rose garden, Mrs. Blackwood.”

Color drained from her face. Her hand went to her pearls.

“You hosted garden parties there,” I said, leaning forward. “Did you ever wonder why the roses grew so well in that particular patch?”

“He was not your father!” she shrieked. “You are nothing! A mistake!”

“A mistake he corrected by running my mother off the road?” I continue reading …