Stormy knew now what had happened in this House, though he had not understood it as a child. They’d been corrupted in their purpose, his parents. His entire family. They’d been seduced by Donielle and had neglected their duties, their responsibilities, defecting under the watchful but naive and uncomprehending eyes of Billingham. It had affected their relationship with him, their own son, had erected the barrier between them that had stood for the rest of their lives, and the fact that they’d allowed themselves to be drawn in by the girl, that they had so easily been manipulated by her, had led him to disassociate himself from them. He might not have been able to articulate it at the time, but subliminally, subconsciously, he’d been able to read the signs even then, and it was why he’d never really had any respect for his parents. He’d been afraid of them, intimidated by them, but he hadn’t respected them.

And it was why he had eventually left and moved west.

He had changed, though. He had grown over the years, and he was no longer the hesitant, easily cowed, easily intimidated child he had been. He’d come back to the House, to his family, a new person, an adult, a successful businessman and entrepreneur, and he would no longer be bullied into submission by his father’s words, by his mother’s demands.

Maybe he’d been given the opportunity to right the wrongs of the past. Maybe he’d been sent back here to stop the girl early, before she was able to do any major damage. To head her off at the pass, as it were.

Whatever the reason, whatever the motive, he felt he had the chance to change things, to do things differently, and it was not a chance he was going to waste. He walked across the study, bent down, and picked up the doll. “What’s this?” he asked.

His father snatched the figure from him. “Don’t you dare touch that!”

Behind him, he heard his mother enter the room.

Good. Both of them needed to hear this.

He faced his father. “Why are we here?” he asked. “In this House?”

“This is our home!”

“We’re here for a reason,” Stormy said patiently. “And it’s not to fuck that little urchin girl.”

“Oh!” his mother gasped.

His father glared at him. “I will not be spoken to that way by my own son!”

“Why don’t you want me to see her, then? Why can’t I see Donielle?”

His father hesitated. “Because… because she’s a bad influence on you.”

“And she’s a bad influence on you, too. She’s a bad influence on all of us.” He met his parents’ eyes. Both of them looked away, embarrassed.

“Does Billingham know about Donielle?”

“Billingham?” His parents exchanged a quick look. “What does Billingham have to do with this?”

“You know.”

“Stormy—”