The interior of the Lincoln was silent, hermetically sealed against the world. The driver kept glancing in the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing every time they caught hers. He was looking for the addict, the crazy girl.

He found only a statue.

Athena watched the landscape blur. In her other life, she had opened this door and rolled out onto the highway three miles back. She had broken her arm and humiliated Caesar in front of the entire city.

She dug her fingernails into her palms. The sharp sting grounded her. Not this time.

The car slowed as it passed through the wrought-iron gates. Williamson Manor loomed ahead, a sprawling beast of dark stone and gothic arches. It looked less like a home and more like a fortress designed to keep people out. Or keep them in.

The car stopped. The driver didn't move to open her door.

Athena didn't wait. She pushed the door open, the cool air biting at her bare arms.

A row of maids stood by the entrance. They didn't bow. They nudged each other, whispering, eyes darting over her dress with open disdain.

"She actually came?" one muttered.

Then, a sound cut through the whispers. A mechanical whir. Low, consistent, approaching from the shadows of the grand foyer.

Athena's breath hitched.

He emerged from the darkness. Caesar Williamson.

He sat in a wheelchair that looked more like a command center than a medical device. A heavy wool blanket covered his legs. His face was pale, the skin drawn tight over sharp angles, giving him a skeletal, predatory look.

But his eyes. They were dark voids, filled with a mixture of exhaustion and a lethal, simmering rage.

He stopped ten feet away. He was waiting for her to recoil. He was waiting for the look of disgust he had seen on every other face in New York.

Athena's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of grief and impossible joy. It wasn't fear. The man in her memory was mangled in a fiery wreck, a ghost she had mourned for mere moments before her own death. But this man... he was alive. The tyrant she had once fled was now the hero she had failed. The guilt was a physical weight, pressing down on her lungs, making it hard to breathe. She saw the man who had driven into hell for her, and all she could think was, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

She walked up the stone steps.

Derik Hickman, the head of security, stepped in front of Caesar. His hand rested casually, yet threateningly, on the Taser at his belt.

"Miss Madden," Derik warned. "Stop right there."

Athena didn't look at Derik. She locked eyes with Caesar. She stopped three steps away from his chair.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. The maids held their breath, waiting for the explosion.

"I'm hungry," Athena said. Her voice was steady, but it was a desperate anchor in a sea of emotion, a simple, mundane request to keep herself from shattering. "Is there dinner?"

Derik blinked, his professional mask slipping for a fraction of a second. Behind him, a maid's jaw actually dropped.

Caesar's fingers tightened on the armrest of his chair. His knuckles turned the color of bone. He studied her, searching for the lie, for the trap.

"You didn't go to the pier," Caesar said. His voice was a rasp, like stones grinding together. It was the voice of a man who hadn't used it for kindness in a long time.

"The wind was too strong," Athena lied, her gaze unflinching. "I get cold easily."

It was a terrible lie. They both knew it. But she was here, standing in his doorway, asking for food instead of freedom.

Caesar stared at her for a long moment. He looked at her scrubbed-clean face, the white dress that made her look like a sacrifice walking willingly to the altar.

"Let her in," he said.

Derik looked down at his boss, confused, but he stepped aside.

Athena crossed the threshold. The air inside the manor was ten degrees colder than outside. It smelled of lemon polish and loneliness.

The driver dumped her suitcase just inside the door and walked away without a word. The maids dispersed, ignoring the bag. It was a test. A petty, small-minded test to see if the "princess" would break.

Athena didn't ask for help. She grabbed the handle and hauled the heavy case across the marble floor. The wheels clattered loudly, echoing in the vast, empty hall.

At the elevator, Caesar stopped. He turned his chair slightly.

He watched her struggle with the bag. For a second, a flicker of something raw-pain, perhaps, or longing-crossed his face. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the mask of the tyrant.

The elevator doors closed, swallowing him whole.

Athena stood alone in the hallway until a woman in a stiff grey uniform materialized from a side door. Her hair was pulled back so tightly it pulled at the corners of her eyes.

"Miss Madden," the woman said. She didn't smile. "I am Mrs. Potts, the housekeeper. The Master didn't expect you to actually... arrive. The mistress's suite isn't ready."

"It's Mrs. Williamson," Athena corrected softly.

Mrs. Potts didn't blink. "There is a guest room at the end of the first-floor corridor. It's the only one available."

She turned on her heel, expecting Athena to follow. Athena did.

They walked away from the grand staircase, down a narrow, dimly lit hallway that smelled of damp earth. Mrs. Potts opened a door at the very end.

It was a storage room masquerading as a bedroom. The furniture was covered in dust sheets. The air was stagnant and freezing.

Athena walked in and touched the radiator. Stone cold.

"Apologies," Mrs. Potts said, her voice dripping with false polite regret. "The heating system in this wing is under repair. The technician won't be here until next week."

It was the same game they had played in her previous life. Back then, Athena had screamed. She had thrown a vase. She had stormed out and called Clovis, crying about the abuse.

Athena turned to the housekeeper and smiled. "That's fine. I prefer it cool."

Mrs. Potts's smug expression faltered. She looked like she had swallowed a lemon.

"Dinner is at seven," Potts snapped, then left, closing the door a little too hard.

Athena waited until the footsteps faded. She touched the bed; the sheets felt damp. Sleeping here would guarantee pneumonia by morning.

She wasn't going to sleep here.

She slipped out of the room and headed for the main staircase. She knew the layout of the house better than she should. She knew where the master suite was.

On the landing, she ran into Derik.

"Ma'am," he said, his body blocking the path to the east wing. "You shouldn't be up here."

"I was looking for water," Athena said, her face the picture of innocence. "The kitchen downstairs was locked."

Derik hesitated. He pointed toward a sitting room. "There's a carafe in there."

"Thank you."

She walked toward the sitting room until Derik turned the corner to continue his patrol. Then, she doubled back. She moved silently toward the heavy mahogany double doors at the end of the east hall.

From inside, she heard a sound that made her chest ache.

A deep, wet, suppressed cough. A sound of agony.

She stopped, her hand hovering over the wood.

"You don't belong here."

A hiss came from behind her. A young maid, Emily, stood holding a tray with a silver tea set. Her eyes were wide with jealousy and malice. Emily, the girl who thought she could be the next lady of the manor if Caesar just noticed her devotion.

"Get away from his door," Emily whispered.

Athena looked at the tray. Steam curled from the spout of the teapot.

"I have terrible cramps," Athena said, clutching her stomach. "I need hot water."

Emily's eyes darted to the master bedroom door, then back to Athena. A cruel idea sparked in her gaze. Everyone knew Caesar's bedroom was forbidden. Entering uninvited was a death sentence.

"There's a bathroom in there," Emily said, pointing at the mahogany doors. "With plenty of hot water. Help yourself."

She was sending a lamb to the slaughter.

Athena looked at the maid, reading the trap perfectly. "Thank you, Emily. You're too kind."

Athena turned the handle. It was unlocked. She slipped inside, leaving a stunned and gleeful Emily in the hallway.

Athena locked the door behind her the second it clicked shut.

The silence in the master suite was profound. Unlike the rest of the house, it was warm here. The air was thick with the scent of cedarwood, antiseptic, and something distinctly masculine.

The room was massive, dominated by a dark bed that looked untouched.

The coughing had stopped.

She heard the faint sound of draining water coming from the bathroom.

She moved quickly. Her dress was travel-stained, and the damp chill of the guest room still clung to her bones. She needed to wash off the Madden house. She needed to wash off the past.

The bathroom door was ajar. Steam billowed out.

Athena pushed it open. It was empty. The shower stall was glass, still dripping.

She didn't hesitate. She stripped off the white dress, leaving it in a pile on the tile floor. She stepped into the shower and turned the handle.

Hot water hit her skin like a blessing. She grabbed a bottle of black shower gel-Caesar's. She lathered it over her skin, covering herself in his scent. Sandalwood and rain.

Through the rush of water, she heard a commotion outside the bedroom door. Muffled shouting.

Athena turned off the water. She strained her ears.

"I know she's in there!" It was Alanna's voice. Shrill. Demanding. "Caesar, for your own safety! She's unstable!"

Athena smiled grimly. Alanna had come to 'rescue' her, which really meant ensuring Athena hadn't actually charmed the beast.

Athena stepped out of the shower. She didn't have fresh clothes.

She looked at the hook on the door. A dark grey silk robe hung there. It was huge.

Perfect.

She slipped her arms into it. The silk was cool against her heated skin. It swallowed her frame. She rolled the sleeves up, once, twice, three times, until her hands emerged. The oversized garment made her look small, fragile, and undeniably intimate.

She unlocked the bathroom door and stepped back into the bedroom.

At the exact same moment, the main bedroom door burst open.

It wasn't a key. Derik had kicked it.

Caesar wheeled into the room, his face a mask of thunderous fury. He had heard an intruder. He was ready to kill.

"Who the hell-"

His voice died.

He stared. Athena stood in the center of his sanctuary, barefoot, water dripping from the ends of her hair onto the Persian rug. She was wearing his robe. The lapels gaped slightly, revealing the creamy skin of her collarbone.

Derik, realizing the nature of the 'intruder,' immediately turned his back and pulled the broken door shut, standing guard outside.

Caesar's hands gripped his wheels. "What are you doing?" His voice was low, dangerous.

Athena didn't flinch. She walked toward him. "Emily said the plumbing in the guest room was broken. She told me to use this one."

She blamed the maid without blinking.

She stopped in front of him and crouched down, bringing her face level with his. The smell of his own soap on her skin hit him.

"You don't mind, do you, husband?"

The word hung in the air. Husband.

Outside, Alanna's voice rose again, screeching through the wood. "Mr. Williamson! My sister is dangerous! Let us take her!"

Caesar's jaw ticked. He looked at the door, annoyed by the noise.

Athena placed a hand on his knee. It was a bold move. He stiffened, but he didn't shove her away.

"That's my sister," Athena whispered. "She wants to take me back. Please... don't let her take me."

Her eyes were wide, pleading. It was a performance, but the fear of going back to the Maddens was real.

Caesar looked at her hand on his knee. Then he looked at her face. He knew she was manipulating him. He knew she was playing a game.

But he hated the screaming woman outside more.

"Push me," he commanded.

Athena stood up. A small, victorious smile touched her lips. She moved behind the wheelchair and gripped the handles.