The gardener's shed smelled of gasoline and old grass. Jane didn't fumble with the padlock. She jammed a hairpin into the mechanism and twisted with a precise, practiced jerk. It was a skill learned the hard way in another life, after a landlord in Cleveland changed the locks on her with everything she owned still inside. The lock clicked open.

She slipped inside. The moonlight filtered through the dirty window, illuminating rows of sharp implements. She ignored the axes and the shears. She reached for a spool of high-test fishing line on the workbench. Next to it, she grabbed a small wrench from a toolkit.

Her hand tightened around the cold steel. A memory assaulted her. The boardroom, ten years from now. Alejandra throwing a file at her face, the paper slicing her cheek. You're a parasite, Jane. We're just cutting you out.

Jane shoved the items into her pockets. She wasn't just going to cut them out. She was going to erase them.

She exited the shed and took the long way around to the edge of the party. She stopped behind a large oak tree and messed up her hair. She rubbed her eyes until they were red. She hunched her shoulders, shrinking her posture.

She stepped into the light of the patio bar.

Heads turned. The whispers started immediately. Look, the stray is awake.

Alejandra spotted her instantly. She handed her champagne glass to a sycophant and glided over. Her smile was sharp enough to cut glass.

"Jane," Alejandra cooed. "You missed the opening toast. What a shame."

Jane looked at her shoes. She let her hands tremble visibly. "I'm sorry, Alejandra. I... I don't feel well."

Alejandra's eyes glittered with malice. This was exactly what she wanted. Weakness. Submission. She leaned in close, her expensive perfume cloying and sweet.

"I have something that will make you feel better," Alejandra whispered. "Meet me at the old overlook in the ravine. Fifteen minutes. Don't be late, or I'll tell Daddy you were stealing silverware again."

Jane's heart rate didn't spike. She kept her breathing shallow, mimicking panic. "Okay. I'll be there."

Alejandra patted Jane's cheek, a gesture that was more of a slap than a caress. She turned back to her friends, flashing a thumbs-up.

Jane watched her walk away. The moment Alejandra's back was turned, Jane's posture straightened. The fear evaporated from her face, leaving only a blank slate.

She slipped away from the bar and headed for the main house. She entered through the side door near the kitchen and made a beeline for the guest powder room on the first floor. It was a small, opulent room with gold fixtures.

Jane locked the door. She knelt under the sink. She felt around the back of the P-trap until her fingers brushed against a loose tile. She pried it open.

A plastic bag fell out. Inside were several pills and small packets of white powder. Kolby's emergency stash. Jane knew about it because in her previous life, she was the one who had to flush it down the toilet when the police came for a raid that never happened.

She took a bottle of muscle relaxants. She dumped three pills onto a paper towel and used the bottom of a heavy glass soap dispenser to crush them into a fine dust. She folded the paper carefully and tucked it into the cuff of her sleeve.

She unlocked the door and stepped out.

A body slammed into her.

"Watch it, bitch."

Kolby Norman swayed in the hallway. His eyes were glassy, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. He grabbed Jane's arm, his fingers digging into her bicep. He smelled of sweat and stale vodka.

"Where you going, little bastard?" he sneered.

Jane looked at his neck. It would be so easy. A quick twist. A crushed windpipe. She forced herself to shrink back, to whimper.

"Please, Kolby. I'm sick."

Kolby shoved her away. She hit the wall hard. "Get out of my face. You ruin the vibe."

He stumbled into the bathroom she had just vacated.

Jane hurried down the hall. As soon as she turned the corner, she stopped. She brushed the spot on her arm where he had touched her, as if wiping away filth.

She checked her watch. 11:45 PM.

Alejandra would be heading to the ravine in ten minutes to set up her prank. Jane had to get there first. She slipped out the back door and broke into a run, heading toward the tree line.

From the balcony above, Hudson Ellison swirled the scotch in his glass. He watched the girl in the black tracksuit vanish into the woods. He took a sip of his drink. The ice clinked against the crystal. He didn't know what game she was playing, but for the first time all night, he was interested.

The ravine was a jagged scar in the earth behind the estate. The overlook was a wooden platform that jutted out over the drop, neglected and rotting.

Jane arrived breathless but focused. She scanned the ground. The wood of the railing was gray and splintered. She took out the wrench and knelt by the main crossbeam. With quick, silent turns, she loosened the rusted bolts holding it to the support posts, leaving them clinging by only a few threads. The metal groaned softly. It wouldn't fail on its own, but it wouldn't withstand any real pressure.

She knelt on the path leading to the platform. She tied the fishing line between two saplings, low to the ground, hidden by the overgrown ferns. It was invisible in the moonlight.

She heard the crunch of gravel. High heels.

Jane stood up. She walked to the edge of the platform and stood with her back to the path. She waited.

"You actually came."

Alejandra's voice was mocking. A beam of light from a flashlight cut through the darkness, blinding Jane.

Jane turned slowly, shielding her eyes. "Alejandra? You said you had something to show me?"

Alejandra clicked the flashlight off. The moonlight was enough. She walked closer, her silver dress shimmering like fish scales.

"I do," Alejandra said. "I want to show you your place."

She stepped onto the platform. The wood groaned under her heels. She stalked toward Jane, her face twisted in a cruel smile. "You think because Daddy pays your tuition, you're one of us? You're nothing. You're a stain on this family."

Jane took a step back, feigning terror. "Please, Alejandra. It's dangerous here."

"Only for you," Alejandra spat.

She lunged. It was clumsy, fueled by champagne and entitlement. She reached out to shove Jane toward the railing, intending to scare her, to make her scream.

Jane didn't scream.

At the last possible second, Jane pivoted on her heel. It was a move from a self-defense class she had been forced to take in her past life after a mugging. She stepped aside with the grace of a matador.

Alejandra pushed empty air. Her momentum carried her forward. Her foot caught the fishing line Jane had strung across the entrance.

Alejandra gasped. She pitched forward, arms flailing. She slammed into the railing with her full weight.

The wood cracked. The loosened bolts groaned and sheared off.

There was a sharp snap, like a gunshot. The railing gave way.

Alejandra clawed at the air. Her fingers brushed the hem of Jane's jacket. Jane took a calm half-step back, out of reach.

Alejandra screamed. It was a long, thin sound that was swallowed by the darkness.

She fell.

Jane stood at the edge. She heard the body hit the slope below, the sound of tearing fabric, and then a sickening crunch as Alejandra landed in the rocky creek bed.

Silence.

Then, a moan. "My leg... oh god... my leg!"

Jane looked down. She picked up the flashlight Alejandra had dropped. She clicked it on and aimed it into the abyss.

Thirty feet down, Alejandra lay twisted among the rocks. Her leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Bone protruded through the skin, white against the red blood.

Alejandra looked up, her face a mask of agony and shock. She saw the light.

"Jane!" she shrieked. "Jane, help me! Call an ambulance! I'll give you anything!"

Jane stared down at her. The light didn't waver.

"Jane!" Alejandra sobbed. "Why aren't you moving?"

Jane clicked the flashlight off. The ravine plunged back into darkness.

"Calling for help," Jane whispered to the night air, "is an extra charge."

She knelt and untied the fishing line, winding it back onto the spool. Down below, Alejandra continued to scream, but to Jane, it sounded like the opening notes of a symphony she had waited ten years to conduct.

"Jane! Are you there? Please!"

Alejandra's voice was hoarse now, shredded by pain. Jane sat on a large rock near the edge of the cliff. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a mint. She unwrapped it slowly, the crinkle of the plastic loud in the quiet night. She popped it into her mouth.

She calculated the acoustics. The ravine was deep, the walls acting as a funnel that directed sound upward, away from the house. The party music was still thumping in the distance. No one would hear her.

"I'll pay you!" Alejandra begged. "I have money in my room! Ten thousand dollars!"

Jane chewed the mint. The cool flavor filled her mouth. She remembered the winter of 2018. She had been evicted. She had called Alejandra, begging for a loan to pay for heat. Alejandra had laughed and told her to sell her kidney.

"Does it hurt?" Jane asked softly, though Alejandra couldn't hear her. "Consider it interest."

She stood up and kicked a few loose stones over the edge. They clattered down the rock face.

"Jane?" Alejandra's voice pitched up in hope. "Is that you? Are you coming down?"

Jane didn't answer. She walked along the rim of the ravine, her mind a cold machine of calculation. Leaving Alejandra alive but broken was better than murder. A coma, a lifetime of rehabilitation-these were fates worse than a quick death for someone so vain. It created a power vacuum, a story of tragedy, not of crime.

She needed to make sure the scene told the right story. She walked back to the broken platform. She took the wrench and carefully retightened one of the remaining bolts on a post that hadn't fallen, then scuffed the area around the sheared-off bolts with a rock, making the metal fatigue look natural, a product of time and neglect rather than tampering.

Below, the sounds changed. The screaming stopped, replaced by ragged, painful breaths. Alejandra had likely passed out from the pain or was conserving her energy. Good. It gave Jane time.

She lay on her stomach and peered over the edge. In the moonlight, she could see the silver dress, a pale shimmer against the dark rocks. Unmoving. It was enough. The heiress was neutralized, taken off the board in a way that would sow chaos and grief, the perfect cover for what came next.

Jane stood up. She was just a shadow against the stars.

Alejandra had made a mistake. She had assumed Jane was a lamb to be slaughtered. But Jane was a ghost, already dead, and she had nothing left to lose.

Jane took a deep breath. She didn't need to go down. She had done what she came to do. The scene was set.

Her attention now turned to the Lodge. The night was far from over.