Amanda stood on the concrete steps and watched the rear window of the Maybach roll down. Julio's face appeared in the gap. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were full of irritation.

The driver hurried out and pulled the rear door open. Amanda walked down the steps. Her face was a mask of ice. She slid into the leather seat and pulled her coat around her legs.

The door slammed shut. Instantly, a thick, suffocating smell filled Amanda's nose. It was a cheap, heavy rose perfume.

Her stomach violently rejected the scent. Acid rushed up her throat. She slapped her hand over her mouth and nose. She reached for the door panel and slammed her finger on the window button. The glass slid down, letting the freezing winter air blast into the cabin.

Julio flinched as the cold wind hit his face. He reached over and pulled the master switch, forcing the window back up.

"Are you insane?" Julio snapped. "You claim you are sick, and now you want to freeze us both to death. Stop throwing tantrums."

Amanda dropped her hand from her mouth. She let out a short, cold laugh. Her eyes locked onto the lapel of his dark suit. A single, long strand of blonde hair was stuck to the fabric. Amanda's hair was pitch black.

"Your car smells like a cheap brothel," Amanda said. "Did you lose track of time at the club?"

Julio's eyes widened for a fraction of a second. His hand shot up to his tie, tugging at the knot. It was his tell. He only did that when he was cornered.

He dropped his hand and glared at her. "Are you having me followed? You are invading my privacy."

Amanda pulled her phone from her pocket. She opened the photo Jeanette had sent her. She shoved the screen directly into Julio's face. The bright backlight illuminated the sweat forming on his upper lip.

Julio stared at the picture of his hand wrapped around Seraphina's waist. He swallowed hard. He pushed the phone away.

"It is a business dinner," Julio said. His voice was louder now, defensive. "I was entertaining clients. Seraphina was there to assist."

The smell of the rose perfume mixed with his lies. Amanda felt physically sick.

"Fire her," Amanda said. Her voice was completely steady. "Fire Seraphina Vance tomorrow morning, and never speak to her again."

Julio stiffened. He squared his shoulders and looked down at her.

"No," Julio said. "Seraphina is a crucial part of the acquisitions team. I am not firing a key employee just because you are feeling insecure."

Amanda stared at him. "She is an intern who cannot even read a basic profit and loss statement. Do not insult my intelligence."

Julio's face turned red. He slammed his open palm against the leather center console. The loud smack echoed in the small space.

"Stop acting like a jealous shrew!" Julio yelled. "You are always so cold. You never smile. You never support me. Seraphina actually looks up to me. She knows how to treat a man."

Amanda stopped breathing. The air in her lungs turned to ice. The last tiny ember of hope she had for this three-year relationship went out. It did not fade. It was crushed.

She leaned back against the headrest. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest to keep her hands from shaking.

"It is her or me," Amanda said. The words tasted like ash in her mouth.

Julio let out a loud, mocking scoff. He leaned closer to her.

"You will never leave me," Julio said. His voice dripped with pity. "Without the Mathews family name protecting you, your parents will eat you alive. You need me."

He reached into his jacket pocket.

"If you behave tonight and play the perfect fiancée," Julio said, "I will buy you that diamond necklace you looked at last month."

Amanda turned her head away from him. The proximity of his breath made her skin crawl.

"Disgusting," Amanda whispered.

Julio's jaw tightened. His pride was hit. He sat back in his seat and pressed a button on the ceiling console. The thick, soundproof glass partition rolled up, separating them from the driver.

The back seat fell into a dead, suffocating silence. The only sound was the heavy thud of the tires rolling over the asphalt.

Amanda turned her face to the window. The yellow glow of the streetlights flashed across her pale skin in a rhythmic, hypnotic pattern. Her jaw ached from how hard she was clenching her teeth.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Julio pull out his phone. He angled the screen away from her, but she could see the soft, affectionate smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He was texting her.

A sharp, physical pain pierced Amanda's chest. It felt like a hand had reached through her ribs and squeezed her heart until it bruised.

She forced her eyes away from him. She opened her phone and tapped on her notes app. The screen was filled with a long, numbered list. Dates. Times. Lies. Canceled dinners. Smudged lipstick on his collars.

She scrolled to the very bottom. She typed the current date.

Defended his mistress. Tried to buy my silence with jewelry.

She looked at the number at the top of the screen. It was 98.

She locked her phone. The car merged onto the Long Island Expressway. The distant, glowing lights of the massive estates appeared on the horizon. The slaughterhouse was waiting.

The Maybach slowed as it approached the towering wrought-iron gates of the Rogers estate. The gates were wide open. Dozens of photographers and social media journalists lined the driveway, their camera flashes exploding in the dark winter night.

Amanda looked down at her phone. The number 98 stared back at her from the notes app. She took a slow, shallow breath to keep her stomach from cramping. She switched to her text messages and opened her thread with Julio.

She typed the number 99. She did not add any words. She hit send.

A second later, Julio's phone buzzed on the leather seat between them. He picked it up and glanced at the screen. He let out a harsh, dismissive scoff.

"Are you losing your mind?" Julio asked. He tossed the phone back onto the seat. "What is this psycho number game you are playing?"

Amanda locked her screen and slipped the phone into her coat pocket. She did not look at him. She stared straight ahead at the approaching mansion. Her silence made Julio shift uncomfortably in his seat. He tugged at his tie again.

The car glided to a stop at the end of a long red carpet. A valet in a crisp uniform rushed forward and pulled Julio's door open. The freezing wind rushed into the heated cabin, carrying the loud, chaotic shouts of the photographers.

Julio stepped out first. The irritation vanished from his face instantly. He smiled, waved at the cameras, and buttoned his suit jacket with practiced elegance.

Amanda pressed her hand against her stomach. The pain was a dull, constant throb now. She smoothed the front of her coat and stepped out of the car. Her high heels clicked against the pavement. For a fraction of a second, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She glanced toward the dark line of tall hedges bordering the driveway. A tall, broad-shouldered silhouette stood perfectly still in the shadows, watching her. But before she could focus, the flashes hit her eyes like physical blows. She raised her hand instinctively to shield her face from the blinding light.

Julio stepped up beside her. He wrapped his arm around her waist. His fingers dug into her side, pulling her hard against his hip. The sudden, violent jerk made Amanda's stomach roll. Acid burned the back of her throat. She clamped her jaw shut to keep from throwing up on the red carpet.

She tried to pull away, shifting her weight to the side. Julio's fingers tightened like a vice grip through her coat.

"Smile," Julio whispered through his teeth, keeping his face turned toward the cameras. "Do not embarrass me."

Amanda forced the corners of her mouth up. Her facial muscles felt like stiff plastic. She let him drag her down the carpet like a prop.

They reached the massive oak doors of the estate. The heat of the foyer hit them instantly. The air was thick with the smell of expensive champagne, roasted meats, and heavy perfumes. Amanda felt her chest tighten. She could not pull enough oxygen into her lungs.

Rosa, the head housekeeper, stepped forward. She took Julio's coat, then reached for Amanda's. Rosa's eyes flicked to Amanda's pale face. A brief look of pity crossed the older woman's features before she looked away.

Amanda let the coat slide off her shoulders. She was wearing a simple, sharp black evening gown. It was severe and uninviting, a stark contrast to the bright, sparkling dresses of the other women in the room.

Julio guided her into the main ballroom. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. A string quartet played in the corner.

Amanda scanned the room. She recognized the faces. The heirs to the biggest real estate empires in New York. The youngest partners at top law firms. The most eligible bachelors in the city.

In the center of the room, Meredith and Harrison were standing with Billie. Billie was wearing a custom white gown that looked suspiciously like a wedding dress. Meredith was introducing Billie to the heir of a shipping conglomerate, laughing loudly and touching the young man's arm.

The reality hit Amanda like a physical punch to the gut. This was not a birthday party. This was a high-stakes auction. Her parents were parading their adopted daughter in front of the city's elite, trying to secure a massive alliance. And they had forced Amanda to come here, sick and bleeding, just to stand in the background and make Billie look better.

Julio saw the crowd of bachelors. He muttered a curse under his breath. He hated when the Rogers family flaunted their ambition so openly.

Three men in dark suits walked over to them, holding crystal glasses. They were Julio's investors. They greeted Julio loudly and completely ignored Amanda.

Julio immediately dropped his hand from Amanda's waist. He stepped forward, laughing at a joke one of the men made, leaving Amanda standing alone behind him.

Amanda stepped backward, letting the crowd swallow Julio. She walked to the edge of the room, near a long buffet table. She picked up a glass of room-temperature water and took a sip. The water coated her dry throat.

She looked back toward the center of the room. Billie was smiling, soaking up the attention. Amanda's eyes narrowed with disgust.

Then, a flash of champagne-colored silk caught her eye.

Near the arched doorway leading to the west wing, a woman was walking quickly. She kept her head down. Amanda recognized the slope of her shoulders and the cheap, heavy way her hair was curled. It was Seraphina.

Amanda set her water glass down on the table. The glass hit the wood with a sharp clack. She did not hesitate. She picked up the heavy skirt of her black gown and walked toward the archway, her eyes locked on the champagne silk.

Amanda stepped through the arched doorway and left the noise of the ballroom behind. The long corridor leading to the washrooms was dimly lit by antique wall sconces. Thick, hand-woven Persian runners covered the hardwood floor, absorbing the sound of her heels.

She stopped behind a massive marble pillar. She pressed her back against the cold stone and peered around the edge.

Seraphina was standing in front of a large gilded mirror outside the women's washroom. She was pressing her fingers under her eyes, practicing a wide-eyed, tearful expression.

Amanda's fingers curled into fists. She stepped out from behind the pillar, ready to confront her.

Before Amanda could speak, the washroom door swung open. The sharp clatter of high heels echoed in the hallway. Three women walked out. Amanda recognized them immediately. They were the daughters of Julio's business partners.

Amanda quickly stepped back into the shadow of the pillar. She held her breath.

The woman in the center, wearing a bright red dress, pulled a compact from her purse. She snapped it open and laughed.

"Did you see Amanda standing there like a ghost?" the woman in red asked. "She looks pathetic. She can't even keep Julio's attention for five minutes. No wonder Billie is the favorite."

Amanda's fingernails dug into the soft flesh of her palms. The sting grounded her. She kept her body perfectly still.

Seraphina, standing by the mirror, heard the women. She turned around. Instead of walking away, a nasty, triumphant smile spread across Seraphina's face.

Seraphina took a step toward the socialites. She placed her hand on her chest, right over her collarbone, mimicking Billie's innocent gesture.

"It is so sad," Seraphina said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "I work with Julio. He tells me Amanda is very mentally unstable. She throws tantrums over nothing."

The three socialites stopped walking. They turned and looked Seraphina up and down. Their eyes locked onto the champagne-colored dress.

The woman in red let out a sharp, cruel laugh.

"Who are you?" she asked. She pointed a manicured finger at Seraphina's chest. "That dress is from last season's clearance rack. You look like a cheap napkin. Do not speak to us."

Seraphina's fake smile shattered. The blood drained from her face. Her hands flew to her sides, and she grabbed handfuls of her cheap silk skirt, clutching the fabric tightly. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

The socialites rolled their eyes and walked past her, their heels clicking loudly as they headed back to the ballroom.

Amanda watched from the shadows. The tight knot of pain in her stomach loosened slightly. A cold, dark amusement washed over her.

Seraphina stood trembling in the hallway. She snatched her small clutch from the console table and ripped her phone out. She dialed a number with shaking fingers and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Julio," Seraphina whined. Her voice echoed loudly in the empty corridor. "Some girls just bullied me in the hallway. They were so mean. Come find me, please."

Amanda listened to the silence as Julio spoke on the other end. Seraphina's face instantly softened. The panic vanished, replaced by a calculating smirk.

"Okay, I am coming back in," Seraphina said.

She hung up the phone. She shoved it into her clutch and spun around sharply to head toward the ballroom. She moved too fast.

The edge of her champagne skirt caught on the jagged branch of a decorative floral arrangement sitting on the console table. Seraphina yanked her body forward. The fabric pulled tight. She stumbled, her shoulder jerking downward.

A tiny, almost invisible object slipped from her right earlobe. It hit the thick Persian rug with a muffled, heavy thud.

Seraphina did not notice. She regained her balance, smoothed her dress, and practically ran down the hallway toward the ballroom.

The corridor fell dead silent.

Amanda stepped out from behind the marble pillar. She walked slowly to the spot where Seraphina had stumbled. She looked down at the dark red rug.

A small point of light reflected off the dim wall sconce.

Amanda crouched down. Her knees popped in the quiet hall. She reached out with her pale fingers and picked up the object.

She stood up and held it under the light. Her lungs stopped working.

It was a heavy, antique emerald earring surrounded by a halo of crushed diamonds.

Amanda's hand began to shake uncontrollably. She knew every cut of that emerald. It was her grandmother's earring. It was the only heirloom she had ever been given, the only thing she truly valued in this house. She kept it locked in a biometric safe in her childhood bedroom upstairs.

The realization hit her like a physical blow to the head. Seraphina was not just sleeping with her fiancé. Seraphina had been in her bedroom. Seraphina was wearing her dead grandmother's jewelry.

Amanda squeezed her fist shut. The sharp edges of the diamonds bit deep into her skin. The physical pain was nothing compared to the violent, explosive rage detonating in her chest.

She turned around and marched toward the ballroom.