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.

The house was a tomb at 2:00 AM.

Elise slipped out of her room. She knew the guard rotation. The night shift guy took a smoke break at 2:05.

She crept down the hallway. The carpet swallowed her footsteps.

Elise saw a sliver of yellow light under the study door.

Voices.

She pressed herself against the wall. She moved closer, inch by inch.

The door was cracked open a fraction.

"...reckless, Jarret," Joyce's voice hissed.

Elise froze. Her blood turned to ice.

Did she say Jarret?

Maybe she stumbled. Maybe she meant Jayden.

"Stop calling me that," a male voice replied. "I am Jayden now. You have to get used to it. And tell the maids to start closing doors properly. This entire wing should be locked down."

Elise clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the scream.

It was him. Jarret.

"Cristine is a liability," Joyce warned. "If she talks..."

"She won't," Jarret said. His voice was cold, arrogant. "She loves me. She knows I did this for us. For the campaign."

"You killed your brother for her? For politics?" Joyce asked. She didn't sound horrified. She sounded tired. Like she was discussing a bad investment.

"Jayden was weak," Jarret said. "He was going to die anyway. He was useless. The world loves a dead hero and a surviving soldier who carries on the legacy. It's perfect narrative."

Tears streamed down Elise's face. Her husband was a monster. A sociopath who had sent his twin to die in his place.

"What about Elise?" Joyce asked.

"She's annoying," Jarret said casually. "But we need the trust fund."

Elise held her breath.

"Once she signs the POA," Jarret continued, "we can... arrange an accident. A car crash. Or an overdose. She's 'hysterical with grief,' remember?"

Elise's knees buckled. She reached out blindly to steady herself.

Her hand hit a porcelain vase on a side table.

It wobbled. Clink. Clink.

The sound was tiny, but in the silence, it sounded like a gunshot.

The voices in the study stopped instantly.

"Did you hear that?" Jarret asked.

Footsteps. Heavy, fast footsteps approaching the door.

Panic exploded in Elise's chest.

She looked around. Nowhere to run. The hall was too long.

There was a small door to her left-the dumbwaiter access, used for linens.

Elise scrambled inside. She pulled the door shut just as the study door flew open.

She peered through the slats of the vent.

Jarret stood in the hallway. He wasn't using the cane. He looked strong, dangerous, and very much alive.

He looked left. He looked right.

His eyes lingered on the closet door where Elise was hiding.

Elise stopped breathing. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought he could hear it.

He took a step toward her.

Then, a floorboard settled somewhere else in the house. Creak.

Jarret paused. "Just the old house settling," he muttered.

He turned and went back into the study.

Elise slid down to the floor of the closet. She was shaking uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered.

They were going to kill her.