Audie sprinted down the second-floor corridor. The marble was cold under her bare feet. She clutched the ball of her cheap dress against her chest, Basil's oversized shirt billowing around her thighs.

She paused at the corner, using the reflection in a gilded oil painting to check the hall. Clear.

She turned the corner.

"Miss Wilcox?"

The voice was sharp. Precise.

Audie spun around. Corine Morrow stood in the shadows of the alcove, wearing a silk robe that cost more than Audie's entire cover identity. As Basil's stepsister and the co-trustee of his estate, Corine's perfectly coiffed grey hair and laser-like gaze were a more constant threat than Basil's mercurial moods.

Audie gasped, clutching the bundled dress higher to cover the fact that she was wearing her stepbrother's shirt.

Corine's eyes were like lasers. They swept over Audie's disheveled hair, the bare legs, and landed on the dress in her hands.

There was a dark, wet stain on the fabric.

It was whiskey. Basil had spilled it when his hand shook.

Corine stepped closer. Her nose wrinkled. "Is that... alcohol?"

If Corine knew Basil was drinking, she'd up his medication. She'd lock him down tighter. Audie would lose her access.

Audie shook her head frantically, her face burning red. She couldn't risk speaking, couldn't risk her voice betraying the lie she was about to construct. "No, ma'am," Audie stammered, forcing the words out as if they were stones in her throat. "It's... it's BBQ sauce."

Corine raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"The... date," Audie whispered, her gaze fixed on her own bare feet. "I was nervous. I squeezed the burger too hard. The sauce... it went everywhere. It was so embarrassing. That's why I came back through the side door. I didn't want anyone to smell me."

She held the dress out slightly. The smell of the cheap, fruity shampoo Audie used wafted up, masking the faint note of scotch.

Corine stared at her. Disgust curled her lip. It was the look one gave to a dog that had rolled in mud.

"BBQ sauce," Corine repeated. "How... quaint."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Morrow. I'll wash it immediately."

"See that you do. And Miss Wilcox?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Has my stepbrother been... difficult tonight? I heard noises from the library."

It was a trap. Corine was fishing.

Audie shrank into herself. "He yelled at me, ma'am," she mumbled, the lie tasting like ash. "He said I didn't dust the shelves properly. He threw a book."

Corine relaxed. This fit her narrative. Basil was unstable. Basil needed her control.

"Go to bed, child. And try to elevate your standards. You represent this house now."

"Yes, ma'am."

Audie scurried away, forcing herself to trip over her own feet near the stairs. She heard Corine sigh.

She reached her room in the servants' quarters. It was small, windowless. She locked the door and went straight to the bathroom sink.

She threw the dress in and poured bleach over the stain. She scrubbed until her knuckles were raw.

She looked in the mirror. The frightened girl was gone. The Auditor stared back.

She reached behind the toilet tank and pulled out a waterproof bag. Inside was a micro-tablet.

She booted it up. Her fingers flew across the screen.

Target: Basil Dean. Financials.

There were small, erratic movements in the offshore accounts. Tiny transfers that looked like errors. But to Audie, they were a pattern. He wasn't just drinking in that safe room. He was moving capital.

He was building a war chest.

Outside, a dog barked. Duchess. Basil's Doberman.

Audie shut down the tablet and hid it. She lay on the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling. Basil Dean wasn't just a paranoid recluse. He was planning a coup.

And she was standing right in the blast zone.

The sunroom was blindingly bright.

Audie stood on a ladder, wiping the floor-to-ceiling glass. Her arm ached, but the rhythmic motion was grounding. Through the glass, she could see the manicured gardens. Basil was out there, walking Duchess. He was limping.

"Audie, come down from there."

Corine sat at the wrought-iron table, sipping tea from bone china. She looked benevolent today.

Audie climbed down. She missed the last step and stumbled.

"Careful," Corine chided gently. She placed a slip of paper on the table. "For the dress. And for your... trouble last night."

Audie picked it up. A check for five hundred dollars.

She widened her eyes. She looked at Corine and shook her head, pushing the check back across the table.

"Nonsense. A girl needs to look presentable. I can't have you walking around smelling like fast food," Corine insisted, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Basil has been under a lot of pressure with the asset freeze. If he takes it out on you, just know it's the illness talking."

Audie gave a small, reluctant nod, leaving the check on the table.

The glass door slid open.

Basil walked in. Duchess strained at the leash, barking ferociously at Audie.

Audie shrieked and ducked behind Corine's chair.

"Control that beast, Basil!" Corine snapped.

Basil shortened the leash. He looked pale, sweat beading on his forehead despite the chill morning air. His eyes landed on the check on the table.

"What is that?"

"Compensation," Corine said. "For the dress you ruined."

Basil walked over. He snatched the check from the table.

"Basil!" Corine gasped.

He ripped the check in half. Then into quarters. He let the confetti rain down onto the pristine tile.

"Deans don't give handouts to beggars," he sneered.

Audie whimpered, covering her face with her hands.

"She needs clothes, Basil," Corine said, her voice tight.

"Then I will buy them," Basil said. He stared at Audie, his gaze burning through her fingers. "I decide what she wears. I decide what she owns. She doesn't take money from anyone else. Is that clear?"

"You're being irrational," Corine said, reaching for the bell to summon the nurse. "You need your morning dose."

Basil leaned in close to Audie, under the pretense of intimidating her.

"Library. Tonight," he murmured. The sound was barely a breath. "Come collect what you're owed."

He straightened up and stormed out, dragging the growling dog with him.

Audie fled to the kitchen. Her heart was pounding, but not from fear.

She found a corner near the pantry where the cameras had a blind spot. She wiped her dry eyes.

Basil wasn't being irrational. He was cutting off her supply lines. He wanted her dependent solely on him.

She looked up at the corner of the ceiling. A new camera blinking red.

He was watching. Everywhere.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from an unknown number. Arthur.

Hey. I know last night was weird. But the fair is in town this weekend. Maybe we could try again? No BBQ sauce this time. :)

Audie's thumb hovered over the delete button. Basil had warned her.

She deleted the message.

The dining room was a cavern of shadows and candlelight.

Audie moved silently around the long table, ostensibly to ensure Basil's water glass was full. She wore a simple dark dress, not a uniform, fitting her role as a quiet, unassuming ward of the family. The stiff collar scratched her neck.

Basil sat at the head of the table. Corine sat to his right, watching his every move. He had changed into a velvet smoking jacket. It was loose, casual.

He reached for the salt cellar. The wide sleeve of his jacket slipped down.

There were three angry red lines raked across his forearm. Scratches.

Corine saw them instantly. She dropped her fork. It clattered against the china.

"Basil. Your arm."

Audie froze. She gripped the water pitcher. Those were her marks. From the safe room. When the panic had felt too real and her nails had dug into him.

Basil didn't look at his stepsister. He sprinkled salt on his steak. "Duchess. She was playing rough."

"That dog is dangerous," Corine said, her voice trembling. "She drew blood. We should have her put down."

Basil slammed his hand on the table. The silverware jumped.

"No one touches the dog," he snarled. His eyes flicked to Audie, standing in the shadows. "She's mine. She doesn't know her own strength. She just needs... training."

Audie felt the heat rise in her cheeks. He wasn't talking about the Doberman.

Corine took a sip of wine, composing herself. "Very well. But we need to discuss the Gala. The senator will be there. You need a date."

She slid a list across the table. "I've crossed off Sloane Sterling. Her father is under investigation by the SEC. We don't need that kind of heat."

Basil ignored the list. He cut into his meat, the knife screeching against the plate.

"Audie," Corine snapped. "Water for Mr. Dean."

Audie stepped forward. As she reached to pour, Basil stretched his leg out under the table.

He hooked his foot around her ankle.

Audie stumbled. The pitcher tipped. Ice water splashed onto the damask tablecloth.

"You clumsy girl!" Corine cried.

Audie dropped to her knees, grabbing a napkin to blot the spill. She made frantic, apologetic gestures, her eyes wide with feigned panic.

She was under the table now, hidden by the heavy cloth. She scrubbed at the water near Basil's lap.

Basil's hand dropped.

His fingers brushed the nape of her neck. His touch was cold. He traced the line of her spine, right where the tag of her dress scratched.

Audie went rigid. She stopped breathing.

"I'll go to the Gala," Basil said to his stepsister, his voice calm, conversational. His fingers tightened on Audie's neck, a possessive squeeze. "But I choose my own partner."

"Oh, Basil, that's wonderful!" Corine clapped her hands. "Who do you have in mind?"

Basil released Audie. She scrambled back out from under the table, her face flushed, her hair messy.

"I haven't decided," Basil said, looking at Audie. "Someone quiet."

Audie retreated to the kitchen. She leaned against the stainless steel counter, her legs shaking.

He was playing with her. And the terrifying part was, she didn't know the rules.