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.

Amanda walked down the corridor. Her strides were long and aggressive. She gripped the emerald earring so tightly her knuckles turned white. The sharp metal posts dug into her palm, sending sharp spikes of pain up her arm. She needed the pain. It kept the rage from blinding her.

She pushed through the heavy double doors and stepped back into the ballroom. The heat and the smell of roasted meat hit her face, making her stomach roll, but she swallowed the bile down.

Her eyes scanned the massive room. She found them instantly. Julio was standing near a towering champagne pyramid. Seraphina was pressed against his side, her hand resting lightly on his forearm.

Amanda took a breath and stepped forward.

Suddenly, a loud mechanical clunk echoed through the room. The massive crystal chandelier above them went completely dark. The wall sconces flickered and died. The string quartet stopped playing mid-note.

The crowd gasped. The room fell into shadows.

A second later, a single, blinding white spotlight snapped on. It hit the small raised stage at the front of the room.

Amanda stopped walking. She stared at the stage.

Billie walked into the circle of light. She was holding the microphone stand with one hand. In her other hand, she held a small, dark velvet jewelry box. It was open and completely empty.

Billie looked out at the crowd. She blinked rapidly. A single, perfect tear rolled down her cheek. She pressed her free hand against her collarbone.

"I am so sorry to interrupt the party," Billie said into the microphone. Her voice trembled perfectly. "I went upstairs to put on my grandmother's emerald earrings for this special night. But my safe was forced open. The earrings are gone."

A wave of shocked whispers ripped through the ballroom. Guests looked at each other in disbelief. A robbery at the Rogers estate was unheard of.

Meredith pushed her way to the front of the crowd. Her face was purple with rage. She pointed a shaking finger at the head of security standing near the wall.

"Lock the doors!" Meredith screamed. "Nobody leaves until we find the thief!"

Amanda stood frozen in the dark. She stared at Billie's crying face. The emerald earrings belonged to Amanda, not Billie. Billie had lied to the entire room.

The pieces snapped together in Amanda's brain. Billie knew every inch of this house's security—she had grown up patching its old alarm systems with their father. Of course she could bypass a biometric safe in her own childhood home. Billie had stolen the earrings from Amanda's room, given them to Seraphina to wear as a sick joke, and was now using the "theft" to play the tragic victim and ruin the party.

A cold, hard laugh bubbled up in Amanda's throat. She swallowed it.

She pushed past a wealthy real estate developer. She shoved a socialite out of her way. She marched straight toward the edge of the spotlight. Her black heels slammed against the marble floor. The sharp, rhythmic clicking cut through the whispers of the crowd.

People turned to look at her. The crowd parted.

Julio saw her walking. He dropped Seraphina's arm and stepped forward. He glared at Amanda and tugged his tie.

"Stop," Julio hissed under his breath. "Do not make a scene right now."

Amanda walked right past him. She stopped at the edge of the stage, directly in the light. She looked up at Billie.

"The earrings were not stolen," Amanda said. Her voice was not loud, but it was sharp enough to cut glass. It carried across the silent room.

The crowd went dead quiet.

Billie's hand dropped from her collarbone. Her eyes widened. "Amanda, what are you talking about?"

Amanda turned her back to the stage. She looked directly into the crowd. She raised her left hand and pointed her index finger straight at Seraphina. The spotlight operator, following her gesture, swung the harsh beam toward Seraphina, trapping her in a pool of white light.

"They were not stolen," Amanda repeated. "Because I just saw that woman wearing them in the hallway."

Hundreds of eyes shifted instantly from Amanda to the now brightly illuminated Seraphina.

Seraphina gasped. She took a step backward and hit the table holding the champagne pyramid. The glasses rattled dangerously. Instinctively, Seraphina reached up and slapped her hand over her left earlobe, where the remaining earring still hung.

The physical movement was a confession. The crowd murmured.

"Move your hand," Amanda commanded. She took a step toward Seraphina. "Show everyone what is on your ear."

Meredith's eyes narrowed. She looked at Seraphina, then at the security guards. "Grab her," Meredith barked.

Two massive men in black suits lunged forward. They grabbed Seraphina by the arms. Seraphina screamed. She thrashed against their grip, her cheap silk dress tearing at the seam.

"I didn't take anything!" Seraphina shrieked. She looked wildly at Julio. "Help me!"

Amanda walked up to Seraphina. She looked at the woman's terrified face.

"You dropped something in the hall," Amanda said.

Amanda raised her right hand. She slowly uncurled her fingers. Her palm was covered in deep, red half-moon indentations from where the metal had dug into her skin.

Resting in the center of her bruised palm was the heavy, antique emerald earring. The diamonds caught the spotlight and threw fractured beams of light across the room.

The crowd erupted into loud gasps.

Seraphina stared at the earring. The blood left her face entirely. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed toward the floor, held up only by the grip of the security guards.