The next morning, the summons came.

"Mrs. Barrett wants to see you in the study," the maid said. She wouldn't look Elise in the eye.

Elise walked into the study. The curtains were drawn. The room smelled of old paper and Joyce's slim cigarettes.

Joyce sat behind the massive mahogany desk. Mr. Henderson stood beside her.

Mr. Henderson slid a thick document across the desk.

"Power of Attorney," Elise read the title upside down. "Transferring management of the Garcia-Barrett Trust to... Jayden Barrett."

Elise looked up. "What is this?"

Joyce lit a cigarette. The smoke curled around her fingers. "Jarret is dead. You don't know how to run the portfolio, Elise. It's complex. International assets."

"Jayden is a soldier," Elise said. "Not a businessman. Why would he run it?"

"He is a Barrett," Joyce said. "You are a Garcia."

The insult was plain. Elise wasn't blood. She wasn't capable.

Elise pushed the paper back. "No. The prenup gives me control of my share of the assets in the event of Jarret's death. I know the law."

Joyce's eyes narrowed. Smoke blew from her nostrils. "We can make your life very difficult, Elise. Legal battles take years. You have no access to funds right now."

"My lawyer will be in touch," Elise said. She stood up. Her legs were shaking, but she kept her back straight.

Elise walked out of the study. She needed to get to her room. She needed to breathe.

She walked into the living room.

Cristine was waiting there. She was blocking the path to the stairs.

"You greedy little climber," she hissed.

Elise stopped. "Get out of my way, Cristine."

"Sign the papers," she demanded. She took a step toward Elise. "It belongs to the family. Not to some charity case Jarret married for votes."

"I am the family," Elise said calmly.

Cristine snapped. Her face twisted into an ugly mask of rage.

She lunged.

Her hand connected with Elise's cheek. Crack.

It was a sharp, stinging sound that echoed in the high ceilings.

Elise stumbled back, clutching her face. Her skin burned. She stared at Cristine in shock. Cristine had actually slapped her.

The study door opened behind Elise. Joyce walked out. She saw Elise holding her cheek. She saw Cristine panting, hand raised.

Elise waited for Joyce to yell. To tell Cristine to leave.

Joyce looked at Elise coldly. "You provoked her."

Elise's jaw dropped. "She hit me!"

"Cristine is grieving," Joyce said smoothly. "You are antagonizing us with your greed."

Elise realized then. There was no justice here. They were gaslighting her. They were a pack of wolves.

Elise looked up at the stairs.

The man-Jayden-was standing at the top landing. He was watching.

He saw Elise's red cheek. He saw Cristine's smirk.

He gripped the wooden banister. His knuckles turned white. His body tensed, like he was about to leap over the rail.

"Help me," Elise mouthed.

He looked at her. His eyes were tortured.

Then, he turned away. He walked back into the shadows of the hallway.

Elise's heart hardened into a lump of coal.

No one was coming. The gentle man from the wedding night was dead. This man was a coward.

Elise touched her cheek. It was hot.

This ends now, Elise thought.

Elise locked her bedroom door. She dragged a heavy armchair in front of it.

She went to the bathroom and soaked a washcloth in cold water. She pressed it to her cheek. The throbbing was a steady drumbeat in her head.

Elise pulled out the burner phone she had hidden in her shoe-a precaution from her single days. She dialed her lawyer, Sarah. Sarah was a college friend, the only person she trusted.

"I need to file for a restraining order," Elise said. "And an annulment."

Sarah's voice was tight. "Elise, the Barretts own the judges in that district. A restraining order will be denied before the ink is dry."

"Then I need to leave the state," Elise said. "I'm packing."

"Do you have money?" Sarah asked.

"No. They froze everything."

Elise hung up. She grabbed a duffel bag. Essentials only. Passport. ID.

There was a knock on the door. Three quick taps. The secret knock.

Elise moved the chair and opened the door. It was Nina.

Nina saw Elise's face. She gasped. "Oh my god, Elise."

"I need to get out," Elise said.

"I can smuggle you out in the laundry van," Nina whispered.

"Too risky. If they catch you, they'll fire you. I need to walk out the front door."

"But you need cash," Nina said.

Elise looked at the wall safe behind the painting of the ship. Jarret kept emergency cash there.

"I don't have the code," Elise said. "He changed it last month."

Elise walked over to it. She moved the painting.

She tried Jarret's birthday. Error.

She tried their wedding date. Error.

She even tried Joyce's birthday, her fingers trembling with frustration. Error.

Elise paused. She thought about the text message Cristine received. The heart emoji. The possessiveness. A sick, desperate idea took root. She wouldn't. She couldn't. But what other choice did she have? Her fingers hovered over the keypad.

She typed in Cristine's birthday.

Beep. Click.

The green light flashed. The door swung open.

Elise felt like she was going to vomit. He used his mistress's birthday. It was the ultimate insult.

Inside, there were stacks of hundred-dollar bills. But beneath them, Elise saw something else: a small, black USB drive with no label. She grabbed the cash and the drive, shoving them deep into her bag.

Elise went downstairs, her suitcase rolling on the marble.

Joyce was in the foyer. She was talking to a group of people in suits-her PR team.

Joyce stopped talking when she saw Elise.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked.

"To my parents," Elise lied. "I need space."

"You leave this house, you leave the family protection," Joyce said. Her voice was low, threatening.

"Your protection leaves a bruise," Elise said, pointing to her cheek.

The PR people shifted uncomfortably. They looked at their shoes.

Joyce signaled to the two large men standing by the door. Private security.

"Escort Mrs. Barrett back to her room," Joyce said loudly. "She is hysterical with grief. She doesn't know what she's doing."

The guards stepped in front of Elise. They were walls of muscle.

"I am not hysterical," Elise said. "I am leaving."

One guard placed a hand on Elise's suitcase. "Please, ma'am. Don't make a scene."

Elise looked at the PR people. They were writing in their notebooks. Widow hysterical.

She realized she wasn't a guest. She was a prisoner.

Elise let go of the suitcase. She turned and walked back up the stairs. She didn't run. She wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

But inside, she was screaming.

Elise's world had shrunk to the bedroom and the garden.

She was pacing the perimeter of the rose garden. It was the only place the guards let her go alone.

Elise heard the tap-tap of the cane before she saw him.

"Jayden" approached her. He was moving better today.

"You shouldn't challenge Mother publicly," he said softly.

Elise spun around. "And you shouldn't watch your sister-in-law get hit and do nothing."

He winced. "I am in a difficult position, Elise."

He stepped closer. He invaded her personal space. Elise could smell the antiseptic, but underneath it was that cologne. Jarret's cologne.

"Give me the POA," he whispered. "I can protect you if I control the money. Jarret wanted me to look after you."

Elise laughed. It was a bitter, jagged sound. "Jarret wanted to look after me? Jarret used his mistress's birthday for his safe code."

His face twitched. A tiny spasm near his eye.

He knew. Because he was Jarret.

"He was a complicated man," he said defensively.

Elise backed away. "You sound like him. You sound too much like him."

He froze. Then, deliberately, he took a step back and leaned heavily on the cane. "We were twins. We shared DNA."

Elise turned and walked away. Her skin was crawling.

That night, she couldn't sleep. Elise sat by the window in the dark, watching the grounds.

The moon was full. It illuminated the secluded bench in the rose garden.

Two figures were there.

One was wearing a shimmering dress. Cristine.

The other was a man. "Jayden."

They were standing close. Too close.

Cristine reached up. She grabbed his lapels. She pulled him down.

She kissed him.

It wasn't a comforting kiss. It was hungry. Passionate.

And he didn't push her away. He kissed her back. His hands went to her waist, sliding down to her hips with a familiarity that made Elise's stomach drop.

Then, Elise saw it.

He let go of the cane. It fell to the grass.

He didn't stumble. He stood perfectly straight. He pulled her closer, his legs strong, supporting both of their weight.

The limp was fake.

Elise gasped. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand. Her hands were shaking so hard she almost dropped it.

She aimed the camera. She zoomed in. It was grainy, but clear enough.

The cane on the grass. The lovers intertwined.

Why would Jayden, the brother, be with Cristine, Jarret's mistress? Unless Jayden was just as morally bankrupt?

Or...

The thought that had been nagging Elise, the terrifying impossibility, bloomed in her mind.

The dropped cane. The safe code. The entitlement to the chair. The eyes.

Elise needed to get closer. A photo wasn't enough. She needed to hear his voice when he wasn't performing.