The alley behind the Vesper Club was dark, smelling of rain and garbage.

Harper backed away from Finn, her back hitting the damp brick wall.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she spat. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the check he had given her. She ripped it into confetti and threw it at his feet. "I don't want your money."

Finn watched the pieces of paper flutter to the wet asphalt. He looked bored.

"You have spirit. I'll give you that," he said. "But you don't have leverage."

He pressed a button on his armrest.

Two black SUVs roared to life at the mouth of the alley, blocking the exit. Their headlights blinded Harper.

"What do you want?" She shielded her eyes.

"I want to discuss your grandmother's surgery."

Harper's blood ran cold. "What did you do?"

"I paid for it," Finn said simply. "Dr. Evans is scrubbing in right now. The deposit is paid. The VIP suite is booked."

Harper felt a wave of dizziness. "Why?"

"Because now you owe me."

Silas stepped forward out of the darkness, holding a thick document bound in blue leather. He handed it to Harper.

"What is this?"

"A personal services contract," Finn said. "An agreement of indebted servitude. Since you are... financially unstable, and given our shared history, I have taken the liberty of drafting the terms of your employment."

"You can't do that! I won't sign it!"

"You will." He paused, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Your juvenile record is sealed, isn't it? The one detailing the accusations of aggravated battery and reckless endangerment from that night. It would be a shame if a certain judge, a friend of the family, were to unseal it. No college, no decent job, just the girl who crippled the last Burke heir."

"I didn't push you!" Harper screamed. "Ciera did!"

"The law disagrees." Finn rolled closer. The wheels of his chair hissed on the wet pavement. "Here are the terms. You live at Burke Manor. You work for me. You do not leave without permission. You do not speak to anyone without permission. In exchange, Rose Solis gets the best cardiac care money can buy. If you refuse..."

He shrugged. "I pull the funding. The surgery stops. She dies."

It wasn't a choice. It was an execution.

Harper looked at the contract. The words swam before her eyes. Total obedience. Indefinite term.

Her phone buzzed. A video message. It was a live feed of Nana Rose being wheeled into an operating room. She looked peaceful.

Harper looked at Finn. He was a monster. A beautiful, broken monster.

"Give me the pen," she whispered.

She signed her name on the damp paper. The ink bled slightly. Harper Solis.

"Good girl." Finn reached out. His fingers brushed Harper's chin, tilting her face up. His touch was electric, shocking. "Welcome home, Harper."

He gestured to the guards. "Put her in the car."

They grabbed Harper's arms. She didn't fight. She felt numb. They shoved her into the back of the Maybach.

The door slammed shut. The lock clicked.

The scent of cedar and rain filled the car. Finn transferred himself from his wheelchair into the seat beside Harper with practiced ease.

The car began to move. Harper watched the city lights blur, realizing she had just sold her soul to the devil for a heart bypass.

The interior of the Maybach was silent as a tomb.

Harper pressed herself against the door, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Finn was reading news on a tablet, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen. He seemed completely at ease, while Harper felt like she was vibrating out of her skin.

"Fifty million dollars," he said suddenly.

Harper blinked. "What?"

He didn't look up. "That's the estimated cost of my medical bills over the last ten years. Surgeries. Rehabilitation. Retrofitting the manor. The exoskeleton prototypes."

He turned to look at Harper then. "That is the debt you owe me, Harper."

"I... I can't pay that."

"I know. You're worth nothing." His words were factual, not emotional, which made them hurt more. "So, we will work out a payment plan in trade."

"Trade?" Harper's stomach dropped. "I won't... I won't sleep with you."

Finn laughed. It was a dry, rasping sound. "Don't flatter yourself. I have no interest in the girl who crippled me."

He gestured to his legs, covered by a cashmere blanket. "You broke them. You fix them."

"I'm not a doctor," Harper lied.

"You're a liar," he countered. "I saw what you did to King. You have skills. You will be my personal caretaker. You will be on call twenty-four seven. You will manage my pain. You will help me bathe. You will help me dress."

"You have nurses for that."

"I fired them. I want you." His eyes darkened. "I want you to see the damage you caused. Every single day."

The car slowed. They were turning off the highway, onto the private road that led to the cliffs.

The iron gates of Burke Manor loomed out of the mist. They groaned as they opened, like the jaws of a beast.

The car stopped in the circular driveway.

The door opened. Silas was there with the wheelchair.

Harper stepped out into the drizzle. A line of staff stood on the steps. They looked at her with open hostility. They remembered. Everyone remembered.

"The Prodigal Daughter returns," Finn mocked as he settled into his chair.

They entered the grand foyer. The marble floor was checkered black and white. A massive chandelier hung overhead.

Harper's eyes were drawn upward, to the second-floor balcony that overlooked the hall.

The fall.

She could almost hear the scream.

Harper stopped walking, her breath hitching.

Finn stopped too. He spun his chair around. "Enjoying the view?"

"I didn't do it," Harper said. Her voice was quiet but firm. "Ciera pushed me."

The air in the room dropped ten degrees.

Finn rolled toward Harper until his knees were touching her shins. He grabbed her wrist.

"Do not," he hissed, "say her name in this house. Ciera is a saint. She tried to save you. You... you are the rot at the center of this family."

He released Harper with a shove.

"Get her out of my sight," he ordered the head housekeeper. "Put her in the Tower Room."

The housekeeper's name was Elena. She had a face like a pinched lemon and eyes that said she'd happily poison Harper's soup.

"This way," she snapped.

She led Harper up the grand staircase, past the second floor, up a narrow, winding flight of stairs to the third floor. This was the servants' quarters, or maybe the attic.

She opened a door at the end of the hall.

"Here."

The room was small. Round. It was inside one of the turrets. The walls were bare stone. There was a single bed, a small sink, and a window.

The window had iron bars on it.

"It's a cell," Harper said.

"It's what you deserve," Elena spat. She grabbed Harper's backpack from her shoulder. "Mr. Burke says no contraband."

"Hey!"

She dumped the contents onto the floor. Harper's few clothes, a toothbrush, a book on neuroanatomy. And her leather roll.

Elena kicked the leather roll. "What is this? Drug paraphernalia?"

"Don't touch that."

Harper's voice dropped an octave. She stepped forward.

Elena sneered and bent down to pick it up. "I'm throwing this trash out."

Harper moved.

She didn't think about it. She grabbed Elena's wrist, her thumb pressing into the Taiyuan point. She applied just enough pressure to send a shockwave of pain up Elena's radial nerve.

Elena shrieked and dropped the roll. She clutched her arm, staring at Harper in horror.

"You... you witch!"

"Leave it," Harper said, her chest heaving. "Get out."

Elena backed away, fear warring with anger in her eyes. "I'm telling Mr. Burke! You're going to regret this!"

She slammed the door. Harper heard the lock click from the outside.

She was locked in.

Harper sank to the floor, gathering her tools. They were safe.

She looked around the room. It was a birdcage. A gilded, stone birdcage.

Harper went to the window. The rain was lashing against the glass. She looked at the bars. They were old iron, set deep into the stone. But...

She squinted. The spacing. It was about six inches.

Most people couldn't fit their head through that. But Harper wasn't most people. She had hyper-mobility. It was a genetic quirk of the Solis line, enhanced by years of yoga and contortion training for the circus.

She could dislocate her shoulders. She could compress her ribcage.

If she could get out, she could climb down the ivy. The wall wasn't that high here.

Harper checked the door. Locked solid.

She looked at the window again. It was madness. It was dangerous.

But she couldn't stay here. Not with Finn. Not with the memories.

Harper waited until the house went quiet. Until the lights in the garden dimmed.

She stripped off the sequined bodysuit and put on her dark leggings and a tight black t-shirt. She tied her hair back.

She approached the window.

"Sorry, Finn," she whispered. "I don't do cages."