The staff bathroom in the Guest Lodge smelled of bleach and lemon cleaner. It was the only sanctuary Edris could find.

She locked the door and collapsed against the sink, staring at her reflection in the spotted mirror. She looked like a wreck. Her lips were swollen and bitten, her neck mottled with red marks, her hair a bird's nest.

"Pull it together, Edris," she hissed at herself.

She turned on the tap, splashing freezing water onto her face until her skin was numb. She dug into her clutch-miraculously still with her-and pulled out her emergency makeup kit. Concealer went on thick over the marks on her neck. She blended it until her skin looked flawless again. She brushed her hair, pulling it into a severe, sleek bun that hid the tangles.

She adjusted the safety pin on her dress, draping her cashmere scarf over her shoulders to hide the tear.

Ten minutes later, the woman in the mirror was Edris Mcclure again. Cold. Perfect. Untouchable. Only her eyes betrayed her-they were older, harder than they had been yesterday.

She slipped out, blending in with the early morning shift of maids, and made it back to her suite.

"Miss Edris!" Molly, her assistant, nearly dropped a steaming steamer. "Where have you been? The Senator has been calling every ten minutes!"

"I fell asleep in the library," Edris lied smoothly. "The snow blocked the doors."

She didn't wait for Molly to question the logic. "Get my ski gear. The white set."

Twenty minutes later, dressed in pristine white thermal gear that cost more than most people's cars, Edris walked into the central Courtyard.

The resort was waking up. Guests were milling about with coffees, prepping for the slopes.

Edris scanned the crowd. Her eyes landed on a couple near the fire pit.

Prince Clement. And Bailee.

They stood close. Too close. Bailee was wearing a pink puffer jacket that was a size too big-Clement's jacket. She was holding a cup of hot cocoa with both hands, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes. Clement was smiling, a soft, genuine smile Edris hadn't seen directed at her in months. He reached out and tapped Bailee's nose, laughing at something she said.

In her past life, Edris had seen scenes like this and told herself it was just sibling affection. They grew up together, she used to say. They are close.

Now, looking through the lens of betrayal, it was nauseating.

Edris pulled out her phone. She didn't open the camera app immediately. She pretended to check her messages, angling the phone just right.

Click.

She took three photos in rapid succession. The hand on the waist. The nose tap. The way Bailee leaned into him.

Clement turned his head, his smile vanishing instantly as he spotted her.

Bailee jumped back as if burned, spilling cocoa on the snow. "Edris! Oh my god, you scared me!"

Edris pocketed her phone and walked over, her boots crunching softly on the snow.

"Good morning, Your Highness. Bailee." Her voice was level, devoid of warmth.

Clement cleared his throat, adjusting his scarf. "Edris. We were worried. You vanished last night."

"Did you?" Edris asked, her gaze flicking to Bailee and then back to him. "It looks like you found plenty of comfort."

Bailee's eyes welled up instantly. "Sister, don't be like that. Clement was just keeping me company while we waited for news of you."

"Is that why you're wearing his jacket?" Edris asked.

Bailee looked down, clutching the lapels. "I was cold..."

"Of course you were." Edris smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You're always cold, aren't you, Bailee? Especially when someone else's fiancé is around to warm you up."

Clement stepped forward, his face darkening. "That's enough, Edris. You're tired. You're imagining things."

"Am I?" Edris tilted her head. "I suppose I imagined the way your hand was on her waist, too?"

Clement froze.

"Go get changed, Clement," she said, dismissing him like a servant. "We have the Vogue shoot in an hour. Unless you want the world to see you wearing guilt instead of Armani."

The lobby of the Ski Lodge was transformed into a makeshift studio. Lights, reflectors, and assistants buzzed around. The photographer, a renowned Frenchman named Luc, was tapping his foot impatiently.

"The light, it is dying!" Luc exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

Edris sat on a leather sofa, flipping through a magazine. She looked the picture of calm, though inside, her adrenaline was still spiking.

The doors opened. Clement hurried in, looking flushed. Bailee trailed behind him, still playing the role of the timid, supportive sister.

"Sorry, Luc," Clement said, breathless. "The gondola... technical difficulties."

"It was my fault," Bailee chimed in, her voice trembling. "I wanted to see the view one last time. I didn't know it would take so long."

Luc waved his hand. "No matter. Let us begin. Edris, darling, to the fireplace, please."

Edris didn't move. She closed the magazine slowly and placed it on the table.

She looked at Clement. He had changed his jacket, but he hadn't checked the collar of his turtleneck. There, stark against the cream wool, was a faint, orange smudge.

Foundation.

Bailee's shade.

"No," Edris said.

The room went silent. The assistants stopped adjusting the lights.

Clement blinked. "What?"

Edris stood up. "I said no. We aren't shooting today."

"Edris, don't be ridiculous," Clement hissed, stepping closer. "This is Vogue. You don't cancel on Vogue."

"I don't work with amateurs," Edris said, her voice carrying clearly through the quiet lobby. "And I certainly don't pose with men who can't even dress themselves properly."

She pointed a manicured finger at his collar.

Clement looked down. His eyes widened. He slapped his hand over the smudge, his face turning a mottled red.

Bailee gasped. "Edris! How can you be so mean? It's probably just... dirt."

"Dirt doesn't come in 'Porcelain Ivory', Bailee," Edris said coldly.

She turned to the photographer. "Luc, I apologize for wasting your time. Send the bill to the Mcclure estate. But looking at the..." she gestured vaguely at Clement, "current state of the subject, I think we can agree the aesthetic would be compromised."

Luc, who lived for drama almost as much as he lived for lighting, looked from Clement's panicked face to Edris's icy composure. He smirked.

"But of course, Mademoiselle. Perfection or nothing."

Edris nodded and turned on her heel.

"Edris!" Clement grabbed her arm. His grip was hard, desperate. "You are making a scene."

Edris looked at his hand on her arm, then up at his face. Her expression was one of pure disgust.

"Let go," she said softly.

The authority in her voice startled him. He dropped her arm.

"If you ever touch me like that again," she whispered, leaning in so only he could hear, "I will tell the world exactly where that makeup came from. And I have the photos to prove it."

She walked away, the click of her heels sounding like gunshots in the silent lobby.

Edris walked fast, heading for the hotel gardens. She needed air. The confrontation had felt good-too good. It was intoxicating to finally wield power over the man who had destroyed her, but she knew the blowback would be swift.

"Edris! Wait!"

Clement was jogging after her. He had abandoned Bailee in the lobby.

He caught up to her on a secluded stone path lined with frosted pine trees.

"We need to talk," he panted.

Edris stopped and turned. "I think you've done enough talking. Or was it moaning?"

Clement winced. "It was a mistake. Bailee... she was upset. She needed comfort. One thing led to another. It meant nothing."

"It meant nothing," Edris repeated flatly. "That is your defense? That betraying your fiancée with her own sister meant nothing?"

"You've been so distant lately!" Clement accused, trying to flip the script. "Always busy with charity, with the wedding planning. Bailee... she listens to me. She understands the pressure I'm under."

Edris laughed. It was a harsh, brittle sound. "She understands the pressure? She's never worked a day in her life, Clement. She understands how to stroke your ego."

"Don't talk about her like that," Clement snapped. "She loves you. She feels terrible about this."

"If she loved me, she wouldn't be sleeping with you."

"We didn't sleep together!" Clement lied. The lie was so blatant it was insulting.

"Save it," Edris said. "Here is how this works now. We are a business arrangement. Nothing more. You do not call me. You do not visit me. We appear together for the press, and that is it."

"You can't do that. Our parents-"

"Let your mother talk to my father," Edris cut him off. "I am done playing the doting fiancée."

"Sister!" Bailee's voice drifted from the path entrance. She was running toward them, tears already streaming down her face.

"Oh, perfect," Edris muttered. "The encore."

Bailee threw herself at Clement, clutching his arm. "Clement, is she angry? Tell her I'm sorry! I'll leave! I'll go back to the convent!"

"No one is going to a convent," Clement soothed, wrapping an arm around her. He looked at Edris with defiance. "See? She has a heart. Unlike you."

Edris looked at the two of them. The Prince and the Pauper Princess. It was pathetic.

"Keep her," Edris said. "She suits you. You're both cheap fakes wrapped in expensive packaging."

She turned to leave, her phone buzzing in her pocket.

She pulled it out. A text from her father, Senator Finnegan Mcclure.

Suite. NOW.

Edris stared at the screen. The real trial was about to begin. Clement was just the warm-up.

She looked back at the couple one last time. "By the way, Clement. If I see that foundation on you again, I won't just cancel a photoshoot. I'll send the photos to the Queen."

Clement went pale.

Edris walked away, heading toward the lion's den.