Delina descended the last few steps slowly. She maintained eye contact with Stone, letting the silence stretch until it was uncomfortable.

"Did she?" Delina asked coolly. "What exactly did Florene want?"

Stone's smile faltered for a microsecond at the use of the first name. Delina always called her 'Mother'.

"Just checking on your health, Ma'am. She worries."

Delina remembered the champagne toast. To the end of the nuisance.

Anger flared in her chest. The headache returned, sharper this time, focusing behind her eyes like a laser.

She stared at Mrs. Stone's polished black shoes near the edge of the Persian rug.

An intrusive thought formed in Delina's mind. It wasn't a wish. It was a command.

She will trip.

The thought pushed out of her forehead with physical force. The air around them seemed to vibrate with a low, electric hum.

Mrs. Stone turned to walk away, dismissing Delina with a subtle roll of her shoulders.

<b>It was a flicker of mental static, a momentary lapse in coordination. Stone's brain, for a fraction of a second, forgot the simple command to lift her foot. Her polished shoe dragged, catching on the plush fibers of the perfectly flat rug, tangling with her other foot.</b>

Her arms windmilled wildly. She pitched forward, gravity taking her with brutal speed.

She crashed onto the marble floor with a sickening thud. Her momentum carried her sliding forward, colliding with a heavy decorative pedestal.

The expensive Ming vase atop the pedestal wobbled.

Delina watched, time seeming to slow down. Fall.

The vase tipped. It fell, shattering right next to Stone's head. Shards of blue and white porcelain exploded, slicing into Stone's arm.

Mrs. Stone screamed. She clutched her bleeding arm, wailing in shock and pain.

Delina stood frozen. Her heart raced. I did that.

The maid from the hallway ran down the stairs, gasping. "Mrs. Stone! Oh my god! The floor must be slippery!"

Delina looked at the floor. It was bone dry.

She realized then. It wasn't just a headache. It was Suggestion. She could manipulate probability. She could plant thoughts.

A sense of dark satisfaction filled her. It was cold and heavy, but it felt better than fear. No more victimhood.

She composed her face into a mask of concern.

"Oh my goodness! Call 911!" Delina commanded the maid, her voice sharp and authoritative.

She knelt beside the sobbing housekeeper. She leaned close to Stone's ear, her voice dropping to a whisper only they could hear.

"You really should be more careful, Creola," Delina said.

Stone looked up at her. Her eyes were wide with a primal fear she couldn't explain. She saw something in Delina's eyes that hadn't been there yesterday. A predator.

Delina stood up, feeling drained but powerful.

Paramedics wheeled the sobbing Mrs. Stone out the front door. The red lights of the ambulance washed over the foyer, a chaotic counterpoint to the usual stillness of the mansion.

Butler Hayes approached Delina. His face was stoic, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

"A regretful incident, Madam. I will contact the agency for a replacement immediately."

Delina walked to the velvet sofa in the living room and sat down, crossing her legs.

"No need, Hayes. I don't want strangers in the house right now."

Hayes raised an eyebrow. "But the housekeeping..."

"Distribute her duties among the junior staff. Give them a raise," she ordered. "Twenty percent."

Hayes nodded slowly. He had never liked Stone's imperious attitude. "Very well, Madam."

The landline phone on the side table rang. Hayes checked the caller ID. "It's Mrs. Ballard."

Delina smiled. It was a cold, sharp smile. "I'll take it."

She picked up the receiver. "Florene. How psychic of you to call."

Florene's voice was sickly sweet, dripping with fake concern. "Delina, darling! I heard sirens near your estate. Is everything alright?"

Delina knew Stone must have texted her from the stretcher.

"Yes, poor Mrs. Stone. She had a terrible fall. Clumsy thing."

Florene gasped. "Oh no! Listen, I can send over my housekeeper's cousin to help until-"

"That won't be necessary," Delina cut her off.

"But darling, you can't manage-"

"Hiram has already hired a security-cleared nursing team," Delina lied smoothly. "He's become very particular about who enters the house. New protocols."

There was a pause on the other end. The mention of Hiram always made Florene hesitate. Everyone feared Hiram Tyson.

"I see," Florene said, her tone tightening. Her spy was gone, and the replacement was blocked. "Well, surely you can come to tea tomorrow? Kassidy misses you terribly."

Delina gripped the phone tight. The image of Kassidy laughing over her death flashed in her mind.

"I'd love to," she said. "I have so much to tell you."

She hung up before Florene could push further.

Delina turned to Hayes. "Mrs. Stone is terminated effective immediately. Prepare the severance package. And the NDA. Make sure it's the strict one."

"Reason for termination?" Hayes asked, pen poised over his notepad.

"Gross negligence and damage to property," Delina said, pointing to the shards of the Ming vase being swept up by a maid.

Hayes allowed a small smirk to touch his lips. "Understood."

Delina walked to the window. The rain was starting again. She had secured the home front. Now she needed to secure her life.

She pulled out her cell phone and dialed her agent, Lana.

"Lana? Don't book that commercial," Delina said. "I have a better idea."

Delina sat in her car in the studio parking lot. She checked her makeup in the rearview mirror, ensuring the dark circles under her eyes were hidden.

She needed to reinforce the lie she told Florene. If Florene checked with Hiram, the whole charade would collapse.

She stared at Hiram's contact info on her screen. "H. Tyson (Do Not Call)."

She took a deep breath and hit dial.

It rang four times. She almost hung up.

"Speak," Hiram's voice answered. Low, impatient.

Background noise suggested he was in a boardroom. Papers shuffling, low murmurs.

"Hi... Honey," Delina forced the word out. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

Dead silence on the other end. The background noise in the boardroom stopped abruptly.

<b>There was a long pause on the other end, so charged with silence that Delina could almost hear the gears turning in his mind. "Delina," he finally said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "What game are you playing?"</b>

Delina suppressed a nervous laugh. "It's your wife, Delina."

"I know who it is," he countered, his voice dropping. "I don't know what this is."

"I just wanted to let you know I fired Mrs. Stone. She broke the Ming vase."

"You called my private line during a merger meeting to discuss a vase?"

"I also wanted to hear your voice," she added. She was testing the waters, pushing the boundaries of their cold war.

She heard a sharp snap on his end. A pen breaking?

"Are you in trouble?" His tone shifted instantly to alert. "Is someone with you?"

He assumed she was being coerced. He couldn't imagine she would call him affectionately of her own free will.

"No. I just... I'm changing things. Starting today," she said softly.

"We'll discuss this 'change' tonight," he said. His voice was dark, promising an interrogation.

"Don't wait up. I have an audition," she said breezily.

"Delina," he warned.

"Bye, Honey." She hung up. Her cheeks were burning.

She leaned back against the headrest, exhaling a long breath. She had poked the bear. But she needed him to be confused. Confusion meant he was paying attention.

She checked the time. The casting call for "Shadows of the City" was in twenty minutes.

She stepped out of the car, adjusting her sunglasses. Paparazzi were camping near the entrance, looking for scandals.

She walked past them, chin up, ignoring their shouts.

Inside the lobby, she spotted Monica Star. Her arch-rival was preening near the elevator, checking her reflection in the brass doors.