By the time the SUV navigated the grueling evening rush hour traffic and finally reached its destination, night had completely fallen. The black Cadillac SUV rolled to a smooth stop outside the massive wrought-iron gates of the Carlisle estate in Long Island.

Eleonora pushed the heavy car door open. Her boots crunched against the gravel driveway, and the chill of the early autumn wind whipped the hem of her khaki trench coat around her legs.

"Wait here in the shade," she told the driver, her voice muffled slightly by the black mask.

She grabbed her canvas duffel bag from the trunk and began the long walk up the winding driveway toward the main house.

Even from a distance, the heavy, vibrating bass of electronic dance music pounded against her chest.

Brilliant laser lights in neon pink and blue sliced through the dark night sky above the back gardens, turning the dignified estate into a cheap nightclub.

Eleonora stared at the flashing lights, her eyes narrowing into cold slits. She climbed the wide marble steps and stopped in front of the massive oak front doors.

She raised her right hand and pressed her index finger against the biometric scanner of the smart lock.

The scanner flashed a harsh red light twice. A sharp, high-pitched beep signaled access denied.

Eleonora's jaw tightened. She switched hands and pressed her left thumb against the glass.

Red light. Access denied.

Addisyn hadn't just taken over the house; she had completely wiped Eleonora's biometric data from the system.

Eleonora didn't scream. She didn't pound her fists against the wood. She took one calm step back and shifted her gaze to a heavy stone planter sitting on the right side of the porch.

She walked over, crouched down, and shoved her weight against the base of the planter. It scraped against the stone floor with a harsh grinding noise. Damp soil coated her fingertips.

Inside a small, hidden groove beneath the base, her fingers brushed against a piece of waterproof canvas. She pulled it out and unwrapped a heavy brass spare key.

It was a habit her late mother had kept. Not even Clyde knew this key existed.

Eleonora slid the brass key into the traditional keyhole hidden beneath the digital pad. She twisted it hard. A heavy, satisfying click echoed in the cold air as the deadbolt retracted.

She pushed the heavy oak doors open.

The grand foyer was a chaotic sea of floating pink balloons and a towering, expensive champagne pyramid.

Over a dozen young men and women in haute couture dresses and tailored suits were clustered near the entrance, laughing loudly with crystal flutes in their hands.

The cold wind from the open doors swept into the room, scattering the balloons. The laughter died instantly. Every head snapped toward the entrance.

Eleonora stood in the doorway. Dressed in a simple trench coat, her face half-hidden by a black medical mask, holding a canvas duffel bag, she looked entirely alien against the backdrop of extreme wealth.

A girl holding a glass of champagne wrinkled her nose, her eyes sweeping over Eleonora with blatant disgust.

Whispers broke out immediately.

"Is that the cleaning crew?"

"Did some crazy stalker fan get past the gates?"

Eleonora ignored the stinging whispers. She gripped her bag tighter and walked straight through the crowd, heading directly for the grand staircase.

Her total disregard irritated the wealthy teenagers, who were used to being the center of attention.

A boy with bleached blond hair stepped out of the group and thrust his arm out, blocking her path.

"Hey, how the hell did you get in here?" he demanded loudly, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Take that stupid mask off."

Eleonora stopped. She slowly turned her head and locked eyes with the boy. Her gaze was as sharp and cold as a razor blade.

The boy swallowed hard, the arrogance draining from his face. He involuntarily took a half-step back, his arm dropping to his side.

Before Eleonora could take another step, a slurred, malicious voice echoed from the hallway to her right.

"Well, well, well."

Cody Boggs, Addisyn's cousin, stumbled out of the corridor. He held a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand, his face flushed with alcohol.

He pointed a thick finger right at Eleonora's face. "You stupid trespasser! Do you have a death wish coming in here?"

Cody let out a loud, wet hiccup and took two heavy steps toward Eleonora.

He used his height to loom over her, his bloodshot eyes filled with absolute contempt.

The guests in the foyer crossed their arms and formed a tight half-circle around them, eager to watch the drama unfold.

The sour stench of cheap whiskey mixed with an overpowering, expensive cologne hit Eleonora's nose. Her stomach churned, and she pulled her brows together in deep disgust.

She didn't waste a single word on him. She shifted her duffel bag and tried to step through the narrow gap between Cody and the staircase railing.

Feeling ignored, Cody's face flushed a darker shade of red. He lunged forward, throwing his thick arm out to grab her shoulder.

Eleonora's body reacted on pure instinct, honed by the countless physical traumas she had endured in her prophetic nightmares.

She dropped her shoulder, twisted her torso sideways, and slid her right foot back. Cody's sweaty hand grasped nothing but empty air.

Because he had thrown his entire weight into the grab, his momentum carried him forward. He stumbled hard, his heavy boots slipping on the polished marble.

The whiskey sloshed out of his glass, splashing directly onto his expensive white suit pants.

A muffled ripple of laughter erupted from the circle of guests.

Cody's face twisted in pure rage. He spun around, glaring at Eleonora as if he wanted to rip her apart with his bare hands.

Suddenly, his eyes locked onto the vintage Chanel bag peeking out from the unzipped top of Eleonora's duffel bag.

It was a limited-edition piece, a priceless heirloom left behind by Eleonora's mother that she had carefully tucked away for safekeeping.

Cody, a street-level thug who only knew brands from rap videos, pointed a shaking finger at the exposed leather and screamed.

"You thief! That's my cousin Addi's bag! How the hell did you steal that?"

The crowd gasped. The looks of disgust directed at Eleonora instantly morphed into open hostility and contempt.

The blond boy who had blocked her earlier immediately chimed in. "I knew it! I saw her sneaking around the porch earlier. She's a burglar!"

Empowered by the crowd's support, Cody grinned maliciously. He lunged forward again, this time reaching directly for the exposed strap of the Chanel bag.

Eleonora's eyes turned pitch black. She stopped dodging.

Her hand shot out like a striking snake. Her fingers locked around Cody's thick wrist with terrifying precision.

Using the brutal mechanics of Krav Maga, she pivoted on her heel, using her entire body weight as leverage. She twisted his arm inward and snapped it downward with explosive force.

A sharp, sickening crack echoed over the music.

Cody let out a high-pitched scream of agony. His knees buckled instantly, and he crashed onto the marble floor, forced to kneel directly at Eleonora's feet. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over Eleonora from the explosive exertion. Her right hand trembled slightly under the sleeve of her coat, a harsh reminder of her frail, recovering body, but she forced her posture to remain perfectly still.

Eleonora stared down at him. Sweat poured down his pale face, his features contorted in pain. She looked at him as if he were a piece of rotting trash.

Dead silence fell over the foyer. The wealthy teenagers stared in absolute horror at the frail-looking girl who had just broken a grown man's wrist in a split second.

Cody slapped his good hand against the floor, screaming, "Security! Grab this crazy bitch! Kill her!"

Heavy footsteps pounded against the marble. Five estate security guards, dressed in tactical black, rushed through the crowd with their batons drawn.

The new head of security saw Cody writhing on the floor and immediately pointed his baton at Eleonora. "Separate them!" he barked at his men, before turning a stern eye to Eleonora. "Ma'am, please stay exactly where you are. We need to understand what happened here before anyone else gets hurt."

Eleonora released Cody's wrist. She calmly brushed a nonexistent speck of dust off her trench coat.

She stared at the closing circle of guards, her posture relaxed, her breathing perfectly steady. She didn't step back.

Just as the closest guard raised his hand to grab her collar, a furious, booming voice shattered the tension from the top of the spiral staircase.

"Stop this instantly!"

Every muscle in the foyer froze at the sound of that voice. All eyes snapped upward toward the grand spiral staircase.

Alistair Pembroke, the estate's head butler, was marching down the steps. His silver hair was perfectly combed, his black tailcoat immaculate, and his spine stiff with absolute authority.

Alistair had served the Bryant family for two generations. In this house, his word was law.

Cody saw the butler and immediately started whining, holding his broken wrist. "Alistair! This psycho thief broke into the house and attacked me! Call the cops!"

The new head of security stepped forward, his voice tight with adrenaline. "Sir, we are preparing to restrain the intruder and hand her over to the police."

Alistair didn't even look at them. His eyes were locked entirely on the girl in the trench coat.

It had been months since he had seen her. Half of her face was hidden behind a black mask, and her frame was worryingly thin, but Alistair would never mistake those cold, unyielding eyes.

Tears instantly welled up in the old man's eyes. He picked up his pace, practically shoving the head of security out of his way.

He stopped two feet in front of Eleonora and bent at the waist, executing a perfect, ninety-degree bow.

"Welcome home, Miss Eleonora," Alistair said, his voice trembling with deep emotion. "You have suffered."

The entire foyer went dead silent. It was as if the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

Cody's jaw dropped open. The color completely drained from his face.

Cold sweat instantly soaked through the security captain's tactical shirt. He realized with a sickening jolt that he had just ordered his men to attack the true heir of the Carlisle estate.

Eleonora reached up and pulled the black mask off her face. The stress rash was visible, but it did nothing to diminish the breathtaking, icy beauty of her features.

She gave Alistair a slight nod. "Alistair," she said, her voice perfectly calm. "When did the security standards of this estate drop so low?"

The words were spoken softly, but they hit the security guards like physical blows.

Alistair straightened his back. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a terrifying, cold fury. He spun around and glared at Cody.

"You filthy piece of trash," Alistair spat, his voice echoing in the high ceilings. "How dare you accuse the true mistress of this estate of theft!"

He pointed a shaking finger at the vintage bag on Eleonora's shoulder. "That bag belonged to the late Mrs. Carlisle. It is a custom piece. There is not another one like it in the world."

The wealthy teenagers shrank back, staring at the floor. The blond boy who had accused her earlier tried to hide behind a tall girl, his face pale with terror.

Alistair turned his furious gaze to the security captain. "Throw this foul-mouthed thug out of the gates. Now."

Desperate to save his job, the captain barked an order. Two massive guards lunged forward, grabbing Cody by his armpits.

They dragged him backward across the marble floor like a dead dog.

Cody thrashed wildly, screaming toward the second floor, "Addisyn! Addi, help me!"

The captain yanked a clean microfiber cloth from his belt and shoved it brutally into Cody's mouth, silencing him instantly.

The heavy oak doors were pulled open, and Cody was thrown out into the cold night. The doors slammed shut, cutting off his muffled screams.

Alistair's sharp eyes then swept over the group of teenagers who had mocked Eleonora. "The rest of you. Get out of this hall."

The guards stepped forward, their hands resting on their batons. The teenagers didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled toward the side doors, fleeing the foyer in absolute panic.

The air in the hall turned freezing cold. No one dared to look Eleonora in the eye.

Eleonora hooked the mask back over her ears. She picked up her duffel bag and, with Alistair following respectfully a step behind her, began her ascent up the grand staircase.