Gemma pulled the door open and stepped out of the study.

Katelyn was pacing the carpeted hallway, chewing her lower lip raw.

She rushed forward the second she saw Gemma. “Did he yell at you? Are you okay?” Her eyes crawled over Gemma’s face, hunting for tears.

Gemma casually tapped the tablet in her hand. “I just got ten percent of the family trust.”

The mask of concern on Katelyn’s face cracked clean open. The muscles around her mouth twitched violently.

“How… how could you possibly get trust shares?” Katelyn’s voice pitched up, sharp and entirely out of bounds for a mere friend.

Gemma looked down at her, eyes flat and cold. “Since when is my family’s money any of your concern?”

Katelyn’s breath hitched. She dropped her gaze instantly, biting her lip harder, forcing a look of wounded innocence.

Gemma didn’t wait for an apology. She walked past her, heading straight for the powder room at the end of the hall.

Katelyn waited until the footsteps faded. Her hands balled into fists, nails digging into her palms until the skin nearly split.

She darted into a small utility closet across the hall and pulled the door shut.

She dug into the lining of her purse and yanked out a cheap, prepaid burner phone. Her fingers shook as she dialed.

“Mom.” Katelyn’s voice was a strangled hiss the second it connected. “She didn’t run. She just took ten percent of the company.”

Miles away, Donia Bruce sat up so fast she knocked a bottle of essential oil off her massage table. Glass shattered against the tile.

“Calm down.” Donia’s voice was tight as a wire. “It’s a fluke. She’s an idiot.”

“She looked at me like she wanted to kill me!” Katelyn’s chest heaved. “She’s not acting like herself.”

“Then we move to Plan B.” Donia’s voice went ice-cold. “Ruin her tonight. Make sure the Hubbard boy sees it.”

“How?”

“Use the artist. Tell her he’s going to kill himself. Get her down to the side entrance where the paparazzi are grouped.”

A dark, venomous light sparked in Katelyn’s eyes. “I will. She’s going to lose everything.”

Katelyn ended the call. She took a deep breath, staring at her warped reflection in the metal surface of a mop bucket. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a soft, supportive smile.

She pushed the closet door open and stepped out.

Gemma was walking back down the hall, adjusting the heavy diamond necklace.

Katelyn hurried over and gently linked her arm through Gemma’s.

Every muscle in Gemma’s body screamed to snap the girl’s neck. She forced herself still. She noticed the fine sheen of sweat on the bridge of Katelyn’s nose, the too-bright glint in her eyes.

“Gemma.” Katelyn’s voice trembled perfectly. “Jair is freezing out there. He’s waiting in the rain just to see you one last time.”

Gemma kept her face blank. She hadn’t gone far. She’d leaned against the wall just a few feet away and caught the muffled vibrations through the door—the suppressed, frantic pitch of Katelyn’s voice. “Plan B.” “The Hubbard boy.”

She stopped walking. She let her shoulders slump slightly, manufactured a look of deep, painful conflict.

Katelyn saw the hesitation and pounced. She shoved her own phone into Gemma’s hands. “Look. He sent a suicide note. He’s going to end it if you don’t come.”

Gemma stared at the screen. The pathetic, manipulative texts made her stomach churn.

“What do I do?” Gemma made her voice small and fragile.

Katelyn’s eyes gleamed with suppressed triumph. She pointed toward the grand staircase. “Go to the side door by the media pit. He’s hiding behind the hedges there.”

Gemma gave a slow, hesitant nod.

She lowered her lashes, hiding the absolute bloodlust burning in her pupils. The trap was set.

Gemma grabbed Katelyn’s wrist and pulled her into a small, empty lounge room just off the hallway.

Katelyn followed eagerly, assuming Gemma wanted to finalize the escape route away from the security cameras. She quickly locked the door behind them.

Gemma collapsed onto the velvet sofa. She buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking as if she were sobbing.

Katelyn poured a glass of warm water from the side table and pressed it into Gemma’s hands. “You have to be brave, Gemma. Go to him.”

Gemma peeked through the gaps in her fingers. She saw the raw contempt pulling at the corners of Katelyn’s mouth.

Gemma reached for the glass. She let her hand jerk deliberately, spilling half the water down the front of her silk dress.

“Oh no!” Katelyn gasped, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at the fabric. “Don’t worry about Brion. He’s just a heartless tyrant anyway. He doesn’t love you.”

A hot spike of pure rage shot through Gemma’s veins at the insult to Brion. Her fingers twitched, fighting the urge to crush the glass in her hand.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “But if I leave… what happens to the Vargas family?”

“Your dad is rich.” Katelyn waved a dismissive hand. “He’ll figure out how to handle Wall Street.”

Gemma pulled her own phone from her clutch. “I need to text Jair. I need to make sure he’s really there.”

Katelyn immediately leaned over, eyes glued to the screen, desperate to monitor the prey.

Gemma tilted the phone slightly. The chandelier’s glare hit the privacy screen protector, turning the display pitch black to anyone not staring dead center.

Her thumbs flew across the digital keyboard at blinding speed.

She wasn’t texting Jair. She wasn’t hacking anything. She was inputting Katelyn’s backup email address and the password Katelyn had drunkenly let slip in her past life—a combination of her mother’s birthday and her first love’s name. One of the countless messes Gemma had cleaned up for her. Katelyn’s cloud drive swung wide open.

“I’m just so scared.” Gemma kept her voice a whisper, eyes locked on the loading bar.

Katelyn stomped her foot in frustration. “If you don’t go right now, he’s going to die, Gemma!”

The progress bar hit one hundred percent.

A flood of hidden bank statements and encrypted chat logs populated Gemma’s screen.

She tapped twice, compressed the files, and sent them directly to her secure offshore email server. The evidence was locked down.

She set the phone face down on the velvet cushion.

When she lifted her head, the tears were gone. The trembling had stopped. Her face was carved from ice.

Katelyn took a step back, startled by the sudden drop in temperature.

Gemma stood. She slowly brushed the water droplets off her dress. Every movement was precise, calculated, terrifying.

“Are… are you ready?” Katelyn’s voice faltered. “The media is waiting.”

“How are you liking the new limited-edition Hermès Birkin?” Gemma asked.

The color drained from Katelyn’s face so fast it looked like a special effect. That bag was bought with money she’d siphoned from Gemma’s PR budget to fund negative press.

Gemma didn’t stop. She recited a string of numbers. “Four, zero, nine, two. Cayman Islands.”

Katelyn’s body jerked like she’d been electrocuted.

Gemma took a slow step forward. “Using my money to fund my boyfriend. Tell me, Katelyn, does it feel good?”

Katelyn’s knees gave out. She stumbled backward until her spine slammed hard against the lounge door. Her eyes were wide, white, filled with absolute terror.

Katelyn pressed her back flat against the wood, shaking her head frantically. “Those… those accounts are for the charity! You know I run the orphanage donations!”

Gemma let out a short, sharp laugh. She picked up her phone, unlocked it, and shoved the glowing screen inches from Katelyn’s nose.

The screen displayed a wire transfer receipt. Beneficiary: Jair Murphy. Memo line: Miss you tonight.

Katelyn sucked in a lungful of air. She lunged forward, manicured hands clawing for the device.

Gemma caught Katelyn’s wrist in mid-air. Her fingers clamped over the nerve cluster below the joint. A violent, paralyzing numbness shot straight up Katelyn’s arm, forcing a strangled, agonized gasp from her throat instead of a scream. Gemma released the pressure instantly, leaving nothing but a deep, throbbing ache.

She shoved Katelyn away in disgust. She pulled a wet wipe from the table and meticulously cleaned the fingers that had touched Katelyn’s skin.

“Plan B.” Gemma read aloud from the chat logs on her screen. “Ruin her tonight. Make sure the Hubbard boy sees it.”

Katelyn’s legs completely gave. She collapsed onto the carpet. The perfect, supportive best-friend facade shattered into a million unrecoverable pieces.

She crawled forward and wrapped her arms around Gemma’s calves, sobbing hysterically. “He made me do it! Jair forced me! Please, Gemma!”

Gemma kicked her leg out, sending Katelyn sprawling onto her back.

“You did it because you want the Vargas trust.” Gemma’s voice dropped to a lethal whisper.

Katelyn stopped crying instantly. Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes darted wildly, a new, deeper layer of horror washing over her.

She thought Gemma knew. She thought the bastard secret was out. Her jaw trembled so violently her teeth clicked together.

Gemma watched the panic consume her. She purposefully didn’t mention the paternity. She let the unknown terror rot Katelyn from the inside out.

“If a single negative word about me hits the press tonight,” Gemma said, leaning down until her face was inches from Katelyn’s, “these files go straight to the NYPD Financial Crimes Task Force.”

Katelyn nodded her head so fast it looked like a spasm. Snot and tears smeared across her heavily contoured face.

Gemma reached out and patted Katelyn’s pale, wet cheek with two freezing fingers.

“Get out of my house. If I ever see you near Brion again, I will end you.”

Katelyn scrambled to her feet. She ripped the door open and bolted into the hallway.

She practically collided with a group of three socialites gliding past.

The women stopped, eyes widening at Katelyn’s ruined makeup, her disheveled hair, the frantic, animalistic look in her eyes. One of them let out a muffled scoff of disgust.

Katelyn’s fragile, inflated ego snapped. The humiliation of being looked down upon by the elite burned away her fear, leaving only a toxic, blinding rage.

She whipped her head around and glared at Gemma, who stood perfectly composed in the doorway.

Reason left Katelyn’s brain. She spun around and sprinted down the hall toward the grand spiral staircase.

Gemma’s eyes narrowed. Her muscles coiled. She couldn’t let this lunatic get near the cameras.

She bolted after her. Her heels dug into the thick carpet, closing the distance in seconds.

Katelyn reached the top of the marble stairs. She grabbed the heavy stone banister with both hands, chest heaving, preparing to scream.

Gemma stopped exactly three steps behind her. She looked past Katelyn’s shoulder, straight down into the crowded ballroom below.