Back at the trailer park, the air was still charged with the residue of the helicopter's departure.

Brenda was pacing the small living room. She had applied a fresh coat of bright red lipstick, but her hands were shaking.

"Did you see that suit?" Brenda hissed. "Did you see the logo on that chopper? Sterling Industries."

Richard was at the computer, typing with two fingers. He hit enter.

"Holy..." Richard breathed. He turned the screen. It showed a net worth estimation. It was in the billions.

"We are sitting on a gold mine," Richard said. He stood up, pacing. "We raised her. We have rights. Emotional distress. Abandonment."

Regina was sitting on the floor, holding her wrist in a bowl of ice water. The swelling had gone down, but the pain was getting worse. It felt like invisible needles were digging into her bones, though her skin looked perfectly normal to anyone else.

"Forget the lawsuit!" Regina shrieked. "Get me to the ball! I need a doctor! A rich doctor!"

Brenda stopped pacing. "What?"

"The Debutante Ball," Regina said, her eyes feverish. "The Sterlings sponsor it. If I can get near them... maybe they have the key. Maybe she did something to it that only she can undo. I need to force her to fix this!"

"But she hates us," Richard pointed out.

Regina pulled her arm out of the water. The bracelet glinted mockingly. "She doesn't want us to talk. We have dirt on her. We know about the... the weird stuff. The fires. The time she made the mirror crack. We threaten to go to the press. They'll pay us to shut up. And get me fixed."

Brenda's eyes lit up. Blackmail. It was a language she understood.

"Get dressed," Brenda commanded. "Put on your Sunday best. We're going to the Manor."

Regina tried to pull a sleeve over her throbbing arm. She winced.

"Just cover it up," Brenda said.

They piled into the rusty pickup truck. The engine sputtered and coughed black smoke before roaring to life.

As they pulled out of the driveway, a crow landed on the mailbox. It stared at the truck with bead-black eyes. It let out a single, harsh caw.

Regina shivered. "Drive faster, Dad."

The truck rattled down the road, heading toward a world they had no business entering, fueled by greed and a profound misunderstanding of who they were dealing with. They thought Seraphina was a victim. They didn't realize she was the judge, and the sentencing had already begun.

Alfred led Seraphina up the back stairs. The carpet here was thinner, the lighting dimmer.

"Your room, Miss," Alfred said, opening a door at the end of a long, drafty corridor.

It was a guest room, technically. But it was the one furthest from the family wing, right next to the linen closet and the service elevator. The view from the single window was of the industrial HVAC units and the back alley where the kitchen staff took smoke breaks.

"Father put me here?" Seraphina asked.

Alfred didn't meet her eyes. "Madam Eleanor suggested this room would be quieter. For your... readjustment."

Adjust. Code for "until you stop being an embarrassment."

Seraphina walked in. The room smelled of lavender sachets and underlying dampness. It was cold.

"It's fine," she said.

Alfred looked relieved. "I'll bring up a tray. The family has already dined."

He left.

Seraphina dropped her bag on the bed. She didn't mind the location. The energy here was stagnant, quiet. It was better than the chaotic noise of the main house.

She opened her bag. She took out a small wooden box. Inside were dried herbs-sage, mugwort, rosemary. She took out a piece of chalk.

She knelt on the floor and drew a small symbol under the bed. A grounding rune. To keep the nightmares out. Or to keep her power in.

The door opened. Harrison stood there. He looked around the room, and his face darkened.

"This is an insult," he said tightly. "I'm moving you to the East Wing."

"No," Seraphina said, standing up. "Leave it. I like the quiet."

Harrison walked over and grabbed her hands. His hands were warm. "You are a Sterling. You belong in the family suites."

"I am a Sterling by blood, Harrison. Not by habit. Let me breathe."

He looked at her, searching her face. He saw the resolve there. He sighed, defeated.

"Okay. But only for tonight."

He looked at the window. "Julian... he's an idiot. Don't let him get to you."

"He won't be bothering anyone tonight," Seraphina said.

Harrison frowned. "What do you mean?"

Seraphina walked to the window. She looked out at the darkening sky. She could see a faint glow in the distance, toward the highway. Flashing lights. Red and blue.

The phone in Harrison's pocket buzzed. Then it buzzed again. And again.

He pulled it out. He looked at the screen. His face went pale.

"It's the police," he whispered.

Seraphina didn't turn around. She placed her hand against the cold glass. She felt the vibration of the crash miles away. The metal twisting. The scream cut short.

"Go," she said.