Blurb：
When stepmother Jocelyn Fairchild arranges a "family bonding" trip to Serenity Peak Wellness Retreat, Carys Rhodes swallows Brynn Covington's suspicious grain bowl - and nearly her own funeral. The ER reveals bongkrekic acid poisoning, but her CEO father Mitchell Rhodes dismisses it as "drama" from his rebellious artist daughter. After Brynn and golden-boy stepbrother Camden Stratford escalate their toxic mind games, Carys discovers Annelise Blanchard's hidden legacy in a rosewood box - and paints her escape from the viper's nest. But when Mitchell begs her to donate blood for dying Brynn, Carys faces an impossible choice: fuel her stepsister's survival... or finally claim her mother's explosive inheritance. This twisted tale of New England wealth pits poisonous step-siblings against an artist's vengeance, where every canvas hides a secret and family loyalty dissolves like cyanide in sweetened oats.
Content：
§01The ceramic bowl was cold against my fingertips, a chilling contrast to the forced warmth of the grand lounge. Inside, a pale, thick concoction of soaked grains swirled into a virtuous-looking paste, garnished with a single, perfect raspberry that sat like a drop of blood on snow.
“I had the chef make it special for you, Carys.” Brynn’s voice was pure honey, laced with something sharp and unseen, like ground glass. “It’s the resort’s signature overnight grain bowl. Full of nutrients. You’ve been looking so pale lately.”
Her eyes, a shade of blue too bright to be sincere, held mine for a fraction too long, searching for a reaction. I offered a tight, practiced smile, a shield I had perfected over eighteen years. “Thank you, Brynn. That’s… thoughtful of you.”
The air in the Serenity Peak Wellness Retreat was thick with the scent of cedarwood, chlorinated water from the indoor pool, and a suffocating hypocrisy. This was our new family’s first official outing. A carefully curated performance of familial bliss, orchestrated by my father, Mitchell Rhodes, and his new wife, Jocelyn Fairchild.
My stepsister, Brynn Covington, was its star performer.
And my stepbrother, Camden Stratford, was her captivated audience of one.
I lifted the heavy silver spoon. The grains smelled faintly sweet, of vanilla and cinnamon, but underneath, there was another scent. Something earthy and slightly bitter, a phantom aroma I couldn't quite place.
Like almonds left too long in the rain.
I looked across the room. My father was laughing at something Jocelyn had whispered in his ear. Camden was watching Brynn with an amused, predatory stillness.
None of them were looking at me. They never were. I was a ghost at their feast, a relic of a past they were desperate to bulldoze over.
My mother, Annelise Blanchard, would have hated this place. She despised manufactured tranquility. She found her peace in the chaotic energy of the stock market, in the thrill of a hostile takeover.
This resort, with its hushed tones and enforced wellness, was Jocelyn’s territory. It was a reflection of her: beautiful on the surface, sterile and cold underneath.
Taking a deep breath, I scooped a small amount of the grain mixture. The texture was smooth, deceptively pleasant. I raised it to my lips. For a fleeting second, I hesitated. A tiny alarm bell, faint and distant, rang in the back of my mind. I dismissed it as paranoia.
My life was a constant state of low-grade paranoia.
I tasted the lie.
§02
The decision to come to this mountain prison was, of course, not mine. It was a proclamation, delivered by my father a week ago over a dinner that felt more like a corporate board meeting where my vote didn't count.
Download the Novellia app, Search 【 582839 】reads the whole book.
The End