The Quinn mansion was under siege.

Beatrice Sterling didn't knock. She didn't ring the bell. Her security team simply pushed past the sputtering maid.

Jerome and Lydia were in the living room, drinking champagne, celebrating the "sale" of Sera. They froze as Beatrice swept in, bringing the cold air with her.

Mrs. Sterling! Lydia stood up, plastering a nervous smile on her face. What a lovely surprise. We were just-

Beatrice picked up the champagne bottle and smashed it onto the coffee table. Glass and expensive bubbles exploded everywhere.

Jerome yelped and jumped back.

You think I'm a fool? Beatrice hissed. You sent me a defective product. A lying, manipulative little stray.

Lydia went pale. Sera? What did she do?

She's an embarrassment! Beatrice shouted. But she's a Sterling now. And because she's a Sterling, her shame is my shame. And I blame the source.

Tiffany walked in, chewing gum. What's going on? Did the blind freak send her back already?

The room went dead silent.

Beatrice turned slowly to look at Tiffany.

What did you call him?

Tiffany rolled her eyes. Harrison. The blind freak. Everyone knows it.

Beatrice snapped her fingers.

The bodyguard closest to Tiffany stepped forward. He didn't hesitate. He swung his hand-a heavy, open-palm slap that connected with Tiffany's cheek like a thunderclap.

Tiffany spun around and hit the floor. She screamed, clutching her face. Blood trickled from her lip.

My baby! Lydia shrieked, dropping to her knees beside her daughter.

Beatrice looked down at them with absolute disgust.

Disrespect the Sterling name again, and she loses the tongue.

She turned to Jerome, who was shaking so hard his knees were knocking together.

For the insult of sending me that girl, and for raising such a vulgar creature as this one... Beatrice pointed at Tiffany.I'm taking five percent of Quinn Enterprises. Transfer the shares by morning, or I pull all Sterling capital from your accounts. You'll be bankrupt by noon.

Jerome gasped. Five percent? That's... that's millions!

Consider it a penalty fee.

Beatrice turned and marched out.

Lydia held Tiffany, rocking her. Her eyes were filled with venom.

Sera did this, Lydia hissed. She turned them against us.

She grabbed her phone. She dialed a number.

Hello? Is this The Daily Mail? I have a scoop. The new Mrs. Sterling... she's abusing her disabled husband. I have proof.

At Sterling Manor, Sera was sitting on the floor of the bedroom, surrounded by delivery boxes. She was humming.

Harrison was in his chair, listening to an audiobook at double speed.

You're cheerful, he noted.

Sera checked her phone. A contact named "Ghost" had just texted her: Quinn stock dropped 5%. Tiffany Quinn admitted to ER with facial contusion.

Just reading the news, Sera said. It seems karma has a really quick delivery service.

Harrison smirked. Beatrice?

Beatrice.

Good, Harrison said.

We're going back, Sera said.

She stood in front of Harrison the next morning. She was wearing a tailored black dress she'd bought with his card. It fit like armor.

Harrison frowned. To the Quinn house? Why?

I need the necklace. The Beloved. My mother wore it every day. It has the access key to the trust.

I'll send a guard.

No. They'll hide it. I have to go.

Then I'm coming with you.

Sera paused. You never leave the estate.

I'm not letting my wife go into a den of vipers alone. It looks bad for the brand.

Sera smiled. Right. The brand.

When the car pulled up to the Quinn mansion, it was a circus. Reporters were swarming the driveway. Lydia had done her work well.

Is it true you hit him? a reporter shouted, shoving a microphone at the window.

Are you only here for the money?

Sera stepped out. The flashes were blinding. She walked around to the other side and opened the door. She unfolded the wheelchair.

Harrison transferred himself into it. He put on his sunglasses. He looked like a king on a throne of chrome and leather.

Sera pushed him toward the door. The reporters crowded in.

Mrs. Sterling! Look here!

Harrison raised one hand. It was a small gesture, but it commanded absolute silence.

Move, he said.

The reporters parted like the Red Sea.

Inside, the mood was funeral. Jerome looked ten years older. Tiffany's face was swollen and purple on one side.

Sera didn't waste time. Give me the necklace.

Lydia sniffed. We lost it. Years ago.

Sera's eyes scanned the room. She looked at Tiffany. There was a silver chain peeking out from under the collar of her high-necked sweater.

Liar.

Sera marched over to Tiffany.

Don't touch me! Tiffany shrieked, backing away.

Sera grabbed the collar of Tiffany's sweater and ripped it down. The silver pendant-a teardrop diamond-glinted in the light.

Sera didn't ask. She reached behind Tiffany's neck and unclasped it. Tiffany tried to scratch her, but Sera caught her wrist and twisted.

Ow! Let go!

That's mine, Sera said coldly.

Jerome stepped forward. That's enough! Get out of my house!

Harrison tapped his cane on the floor. Thud.

Jerome, Harrison said, his voice bored. Do you want me to buy your company just to fire you?

Jerome froze.

Let her take it, Harrison said. Whatever she wants.

Sera clasped the necklace around her own neck. The metal was warm from Tiffany's skin, which made her skin crawl, but the weight of it was grounding.

She turned to Harrison. I'm done.

They walked out. The reporters were still there, but they stayed back.

In the car, Sera took the necklace off. She ran her thumb over the back of the setting. There was a tiny groove. She pressed it with her fingernail. The intricate silver filigree on the back shifted, a section sliding aside to reveal not a memory card, but a small, uniquely shaped piece of metal. A custom-made vault key.

Harrison heard the click.

Got it? he asked.

Sera held the key tight. Got it.

Thank you, she said softly. For coming.

Harrison shrugged. I just hate it when people touch my property.

Sera looked at him. Property.

She slid the key back in. It didn't matter what he called her. As long as he protected her.

The garden was a maze of high hedges and stone statues. Sera pushed Harrison along the gravel path. It was "sun therapy"-part of her cover to get him away from the house's microphones.

Sophia is on the balcony, Sera murmured. She's watching us with binoculars.

Harrison didn't move his head. Is she?

Sera knelt down to adjust his blanket.

I analyzed the pill I stole. It's laced with a hallucinogen. Scopolamine and something else. It causes paranoia. Rage.

Harrison nodded. That explains the 'episodes'. They want to declare me incompetent. Take power of attorney.

We need to give them a show, Sera whispered. Make them think it's working.

Harrison grinned. It was a sharp, wolfish expression. I can do crazy.

Sera stood up. She suddenly screamed.

Harrison! Stop!

She threw herself backward onto the grass.

Harrison began to shout. He swung his cane wildly, decapitating a tulip.

Get away from me! They're everywhere! The spiders!

He thrashed in the chair, looking genuinely deranged.

Up on the balcony, Sophia lowered her binoculars. She smiled. A cold, satisfied smile. She picked up her phone.

It's progressing, she said into the receiver. He's losing it.

Down in the garden, guards came running. They "restrained" Harrison.

As a maid rushed over to help Sera up, she pressed a piece of paper into Sera's hand. Sera's fingers brushed against the girl's and she felt the distinct shape of a small, cold metal pin-a silver wolf's head, the sigil Harrison had told her to watch for. The maid's eyes, though frightened, gave a single, deliberate nod before she fled.

Back in the bedroom, with the door locked, the adrenaline faded.

You're a good actor, Sera said.

Harrison adjusted his cuffs. I learned from the best. What was that paper?

Sera unfolded the note. Her blood ran cold.

Midnight. The old fountain. I know who really killed your mother.

Sera's heart skipped a beat. Her mother had died of a stroke. Or so she thought.

What is it? Harrison asked. He heard the crinkle of paper.

Nothing, Sera lied. Just a receipt I dropped.

Harrison turned his head. He knew she was lying. He could hear the change in her heartbeat. But he didn't push.

Are you going? he asked.

Going where?

To wherever that note told you to go.

Sera looked at him. I have to.

Be careful, Harrison said. The garden at night... accidents happen.