The sky was a bruised purple when Aria woke. She moved silently, slipping into a pair of nondescript sweatpants she'd bought from a street vendor the night before. Her back throbbed-a dull, grinding ache from the old fracture-so running was out of the question. Instead, she walked with a rapid, predatory pace, mapping the neighborhood, identifying exit routes and blind spots while the city slept.

She stopped at a bagel shop on the corner. She bought a dozen assorted bagels and two large coffees. She paid with a debit card linked to a shell company, untraceable to the Carlisle estate.

When she walked back into the apartment, Susan was staring into the empty refrigerator with a look of despair.

Aria placed the bag on the table. The smell of fresh yeast and coffee filled the room.

Susan turned, her eyes widening. "Oh, honey, you didn't have to... that's expensive."

"The owner gave me a discount," Aria lied smoothly. "End of the morning rush."

Toby stumbled out of the bedroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He saw the bagels and gasped. "Everything bagel!"

Aria smiled. "I need to go to the store for some basics. Toby, want to come?"

Susan hesitated, then reached into a jar on the counter. She pulled out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. It was soft with age.

"Get some milk," she said. "And maybe some soap."

Aria took the bill. It felt heavier than the black card she had thrown away. She folded it reverently and put it in her pocket.

The street was bustling. Aria held Toby's hand. His palm was sticky and warm. He pointed at everything.

"Look! Candy apples!"

A street vendor was dipping apples into bright red sugar syrup. Toby's eyes tracked the glistening fruit with pure longing.

Aria stopped. "Two, please."

She paid with the loose change in her own pocket. Toby took the apple, his face lighting up like he'd been handed a diamond. He took a bite, red sugar coating his lips immediately.

They walked past an art supply store. Toby stopped again. He pressed his face against the glass, staring at a set of Copic markers displayed on a velvet stand. He didn't ask for them. He knew better. He just looked, tracing the shapes with his finger on the glass.

Aria memorized the brand.

Inside the supermarket, it was chaos. People pushed and shoved. Aria navigated the aisles with military precision, selecting items that were on sale to keep up the charade.

They reached the checkout line. Just as Aria was about to put her basket down, three guys in oversized hoodies cut in front of her. They laughed, ignoring the line of people behind them.

The cashier, a young girl, looked down, too scared to speak.

Aria felt Toby stiffen beside her. He gripped her hand tighter.

Aria tapped her fingers on the handle of the shopping cart. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. A rhythm to slow her heart rate, to keep the violence contained.

She stepped forward. She didn't raise her voice. She lowered it.

"The line starts back there."

The leader of the group turned slowly. He had a scar over his eyebrow and a sneer practiced in the mirror.

"What did you say, bitch?"

Aria looked him in the eyes. She didn't blink. She projected a sudden, terrifying emptiness. It was the look of someone who had seen things that would make this street thug wet his pants.

"I said, get in line."

The air between them dropped ten degrees. The thug's sneer faltered. His instincts, primal and warning, screamed at him that he had made a mistake. He saw the way she stood-balanced, ready.

He muttered something under his breath, spat on the floor, and jerked his head at his friends. They moved to the back of the line.

Toby looked up at her, his mouth open.

"You're like a superhero," he whispered.

"Just manners, Toby."

On the walk back, Toby chewed on the last of his apple.

"Leo cried last night," he said suddenly.

Aria looked down. "What?"

"After you went to sleep. He was holding Vanessa's picture. He misses her."

Aria felt a pang of sympathy. Not for Vanessa, but for the boy who had been manipulated by her.

When they got home, Aria handed Susan the change. Every penny.

Susan looked at the candy apple stick in Toby's hand, then at the groceries. She didn't ask where the extra money came from. She just squeezed Aria's shoulder.

Aria went to her room. She pulled out her phone.

A text from Nate: [Carlisle Legal just froze your trust. You have zero access to the family accounts. They're trying to starve you out.]

Aria typed back: [Let them try. I don't like owing people anyway.]

She smiled, a cold, sharp expression.

3:00 AM.

The sound of a police siren wailed in the distance, closer than it ever would be in the Upper East Side. Aria lay on the wooden slats of the bunk bed. Her back was screaming. The lack of support was aggravating the old injury, sending spasms of sharp pain radiating up her spine. She reached into her bag, dry-swallowing a high-strength anti-inflammatory she kept for emergencies.

She shifted. The bed frame let out a screech that sounded like a dying animal.

Above her, Jenny groaned in her sleep.

Aria froze. She couldn't stay here. She needed to move.

She slid off the bed, her feet silent on the floorboards. She crept into the living room.

The moonlight filtered through the grime on the windows, casting long, distorted shadows.

Someone was sitting by the balcony door.

Leo.

He was hugging his knees to his chest, the glow of a phone screen illuminating his tear-streaked face.

He didn't hear her approach. He was too focused on the screen.

Aria stopped a few feet away. She could see the image on his phone. It was Vanessa's Instagram story.

A picture of a porcelain teacup on a silver tray, overlooking the Carlisle rose garden. Caption: Home sweet home. So blessed.

Leo wiped his nose on his sleeve. "She's happy," he whispered, his voice thick. "She forgot us already."

Aria sat down on the floor opposite him. She didn't try to touch him.

"Look at the cup, Leo."

Leo jumped, nearly dropping the phone. He glared at her. "What?"

"Look at the cup in the picture. Is there steam?"

Leo frowned. He zoomed in. "No."

"Is there tea in it?"

It looked empty.

"It's a prop," Aria said softly. "Eleanor Carlisle makes her stage those photos. That cup has been sitting on that table for three years. No one drinks from it."

Leo stared at her. "How do you know?"

"I lived in that museum for seventeen years."

Leo looked back at the photo. The glamour suddenly looked cold. Staged.

"She... she never mentioned us?" he asked, the vulnerability in his voice breaking Aria's heart.

Aria hesitated. She could tell him the truth-that Vanessa called them "the help" behind their backs. That Vanessa laughed about their poverty to her rich friends.

But looking at Leo's shattered face, she couldn't do it.

"She keeps a photo of you guys," Aria lied. "Tucked in the frame of her mirror. Where Eleanor can't see it."

Leo let out a breath that sounded like a sob. He buried his face in his knees and cried. Not the angry crying from before, but a release. A grieving.

Toby appeared from the hallway, rubbing his eyes. He saw Leo crying and waddled over. He held out the sticky remains of his candy apple.

"Eat, Leo," he said sleepily. "Sugar helps."

Aria watched the three of them sitting in the moonlight-the fake heiress, the angry brother, the innocent child.

The medication was starting to kick in, dulling the fire in her back to a manageable ember.

She stood up and picked Leo up. He was heavy, but to her, he felt light. He was asleep before she even got him to the couch.

She went back to her room. She picked up her phone.

An email notification from Nebula Studios Board of Directors: [Acquisition proposal for Carlisle Media Subsidiary is ready for your review.]

Aria stared at the screen. The hunger in her eyes wasn't for food. It was for justice.

Breakfast was oatmeal. Watery, lumpy oatmeal.

Frank sat at the head of the table, checking his watch every thirty seconds. He looked like he was about to be sick.

Suddenly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a white envelope. He slid it across the table toward Aria.

"It's not much," he said, his voice trembling. "But it's for a mattress. You can't sleep on that wood. I heard you walking around last night."

Aria opened the envelope. Inside were crumpled bills. Ones, fives, a few tens. Maybe a hundred and twenty dollars total.

Jenny stood up. She unzipped her backpack and slammed a roll of cash onto the table.

"Tips from the diner," she muttered, not meeting Aria's eyes. "Fifty bucks."

Leo pushed his Nintendo Switch across the table. "Sell it. I don't play it anyway."

Toby ran to his room and came back shaking a plastic piggy bank.

Aria looked at the pile on the table. The video game console, the crumpled tips, the piggy bank.

It was more money than they had. It was everything.

Her throat tightened. A physical lump formed, making it hard to swallow. In the Carlisle house, money was a weapon. Here, it was a bandage.

She pushed the envelope back to Frank. She pushed the money back to Jenny. She slid the game back to Leo.

"No," she said.

"Don't be proud, girl!" Susan cried out. "You're hurting!"

"I have money," Aria said. "I have... savings. From before."

"Liar," Leo said, but without heat. "Dad said they cut you off."

"I have a bad back," Aria said, improvising quickly. "A medical condition. I need a specific orthopedic bed. It costs thousands. This..." she gestured to the pile, "wouldn't even cover the delivery deposit."

Frank's face fell. He looked devastated.

"Keep the money," Aria said, grabbing Frank's rough hand. "Use it for Jenny's tuition. Use it for Toby. Investing in them is investing in me."

She stood up, grabbing her jacket. "I'm going to handle it. I have a contact who sells used medical equipment."

She walked out of the apartment before she could cry. She leaned against the graffiti-covered wall in the hallway and exhaled a shuddering breath.

She pulled out her phone and dialed.

Nate.

"I'm here," his voice answered instantly.

"I need a Hästens mattress. The Vividus. Delivered to Queens. Tonight."

There was a pause. "Aria. That's a four-hundred-thousand-dollar bed. You're putting it in a walk-up in Queens? You'll get robbed."

"No one will rob me," she said coldly. "And Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"Forge an invoice. Make the total two thousand, eight hundred dollars. Label it as 'Salvage Retrieval and sanitation fee'. Make it look like I paid to haul away a damaged hotel unit."

"You're insane," Nate said, but she could hear the smile in his voice. "It'll be there by six."

Aria hung up. She walked to the subway station.

A billboard loomed over the entrance. It was a Carlisle Group ad. Vanessa's face, airbrushed to perfection, smiled down at the commuters.

Aria stared at it. She didn't blink.

A homeless man bumped into her, his hand dipping clumsily into her pocket.

Aria caught his wrist. She didn't break it. She twisted it just enough to make him drop the wallet.

She reached into her other pocket and pulled out a card for a shelter she funded anonymously.

"Go here," she said, pressing it into his dirty palm. "Ask for Maria. Show her this card. Don't say who sent you. Just say: 'The debt is paid.' You'll get a hot meal and a bed."

The man stared at her, mouth agape.

Aria turned and descended into the subway, the darkness swallowing her whole.