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.

The moment Edris opened the door to the Mcclure Family Suite, a heavy crystal ashtray sailed past her head.

It smashed against the doorframe, showering the carpet with shards of glass.

Edris didn't flinch. She stepped inside and closed the door calmly.

Senator Finnegan Mcclure stood by the fireplace, his face purple with rage. Her mother, Jannette, sat on the velvet sofa, filing her nails, looking bored.

"You have some nerve showing your face," Finnegan roared.

"Nice aim, Father," Edris said dryly, stepping over the glass. "Trying to kill me before the wedding or after?"

"Where were you last night?" Finnegan demanded. "The press was swarming. We had to say you had a migraine. A migraine! On your engagement eve!"

"I was indisposed," Edris said.

"Indisposed? You were missing!" Finnegan slammed his hand on the mantelpiece. "And today? You cancelled the Vogue shoot? Do you know how many favors I pulled to get Luc?"

"Clement wasn't presentable," Edris said.

"He's a Prince! He is always presentable!" Jannette snapped, finally looking up. "You are just being difficult. You've always been jealous of Bailee, and now you're taking it out on Clement because he's nice to her."

"Nice?" Edris raised an eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Don't change the subject," Finnegan barked. "You are jeopardizing this alliance. This family needs the Royal connection."

"The family needs it? Or your reelection campaign needs it?"

Finnegan marched up to her, pointing a finger in her face. "You ungrateful brat. We gave you everything. Education, clothes, status. And this is how you repay us?"

"I am cutting you off," Finnegan announced. "Effective immediately. All credit cards. The trust fund access. Frozen."

Edris felt a cold knot in her stomach, but she forced her face to remain impassive.

"Until you apologize to Clement. And to Bailee."

"Apologize?" Edris laughed incredulously. "For what? For not wanting to be cheated on?"

"There was no cheating!" Jannette stood up. "Bailee is an angel. She would never do that to you. You are paranoid."

The door opened. Bailee slipped in, eyes red and puffy.

"Mommy... Daddy..." she sniffled. "Please don't fight. It's my fault. I shouldn't have asked Clement to take me skiing."

She ran to Jannette, burying her face in her mother's chest. Jannette stroked her hair. "Shh, baby. It's not your fault. Your sister is just... unstable."

Finnegan looked at Edris with pure disdain. "Look at her. She's heartbroken because of you."

"She's heartbroken because she got caught," Edris said.

"That's it," Finnegan said. "Hand over the cards. Now."

Edris looked at her parents. The people who were supposed to protect her. They were looking at her like she was a tumor that needed to be excised.

She reached into her purse.