The line for OMNIA wrapped around the block, a snake of desperate people hoping for a taste of the high life.

Sofia didn't wait. She marched to the front, grabbed the bouncer's arm, and slipped a folded bill into his hand.

VIP list. Franco, Sofia said. She didn't ask. She stated.

The bouncer, a mountain of muscle, nodded and unhooked the velvet rope.

Elodie followed her cousin, keeping her head down. She felt the eyes of the people in line burning into her back.

Inside, the club was a different world. A massive chandelier, like a kinetic spaceship, descended from the ceiling, pulsing with light. The music was deafening. It hit Elodie in the chest, replacing her heartbeat with a synthetic rhythm.

They made their way to a private booth overlooking the main dance floor. A waiter appeared instantly with a bottle of Grey Goose and sparklers.

Sofia was on the couch dancing before the waiter had even set the bottle down.

Elodie poured herself a drink. She needed the burn. She scanned the room, a habit she couldn't break. Always checking for exits. Always checking for cameras.

Her phone vibrated in her clutch.

She pulled it out. It was a FaceTime request.

Bianca Vane.

Elodie's stomach tightened. Bianca was Kade's ex, and a woman who collected secrets like other people collected stamps. If Elodie didn't answer, Bianca would call her mother.

Elodie adjusted her hair, put on her best fake smile, and accepted the call.

The screen filled with Bianca's face. She was at a garden party. The lighting was soft, golden. Hamptons.

Elodie! Bianca shrilled. Where are you? It is so dark.

Hawaii, Elodie lied smoothly. Night swimming.

Bianca smirked. She brought a champagne flute to her lips.

Shame. Alden was just asking about you.

Elodie's hand tightened on the phone. The plastic case creaked.

Is that so? Elodie asked. Her voice was bored.

Yes. He bought me this bracelet. Bianca held up her wrist. A thick diamond cuff glittered in the sun. He said it reminded him of my eyes.

Elodie knew two things immediately. One, Alden's eyes were brown, not clear like diamonds. Two, Alden never spoke in clichés.

Cute, Elodie deadpanned.

Anyway, have fun in... wherever, Bianca said, dismissing her.

The screen went black.

Elodie stared at the phone. A surge of irrational, hot jealousy flooded her veins. She knew Bianca was lying. She knew it. But the image of Alden buying jewelry for another woman still felt like a knife in her ribs.

She downed her vodka. It burned all the way down.

She needed to cool off.

She stepped out of the booth and walked to the railing. She looked down into the pit below, the ultra-VIP area where the real power players sat.

And there he was.

The man from the SUV.

He was sitting alone at a large circular table in the center of the chaos. People were dancing around him, shouting, drinking. But he was still.

He was wearing the same black suit. A glass of water sat in front of him.

He looked up.

Across the crowded club, through the flashing strobe lights, his eyes found hers again.

He knew she was there. He had felt her watching.

Elodie stared at her phone, the ghost of Bianca's smirk still burned into her retina.

She wasn't going to let that slide. She was a Jimenez. She knew how to play games.

She opened her text thread with Bianca.

Lovely bracelet, Elodie typed. Is that the Vanderbilt collection?

She waited a beat.

Bianca replied instantly. Yes, custom made.

Elodie smiled. It was a cold, sharp smile.

She recalled a charity gala two years ago. The Vanderbilt heir had made a drunken speech about how he refused to use clear diamonds for cuffs because they looked like "common ice."

Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe Elodie was just making it up. It didn't matter. Perception was reality.

Funny, Elodie typed. I was with the Vanderbilts at their Aspen retreat last winter when they finalized that design. I thought they decided to keep that specific pavé setting exclusively for the family. It's stunning on you, though.

She added one more line.

Maybe Alden pulled some strings. You should get it authenticated for insurance, just in case. xoxo.

She watched the three dots of Bianca typing appear. Then disappear. Then appear again.

Then nothing.

Elodie put the phone down. A petty victory, but it tasted sweet. It reminded her that she had teeth.

Sofia stumbled over, holding two shot glasses.

Who are you texting? You look evil, Sofia laughed.

Just handling business, Elodie said. She took the shot. Tequila. It mixed with the vodka in her stomach, creating a warm, buzzing shield against the world.

She looked back down at the VIP pit.

The man in the black suit was no longer alone.

A nervous-looking man in a rumpled suit was standing in front of the table. He was sweating. Even from this distance, Elodie could see the sheen on his forehead.

The man in black said something. He didn't shout. He didn't gesture. He just moved his hand slightly, a dismissive flick of his wrist.

Two massive security guards stepped out of the shadows and grabbed the nervous man by the arms. They dragged him away. The nervous man was shouting, but the music swallowed his voice.

The man in black picked up his water glass and took a sip, looking utterly bored.

Elodie's curiosity spiked. This wasn't just a rich guy. This was power.

Sofia, Elodie shouted over the bass. Who is the guy in the black suit downstairs?

Sofia followed her gaze.

Her face went pale. The drunken smile vanished.

Oh, Sofia said. That is the Enforcer.

The Enforcer? Elodie repeated.

Sofia leaned in close, her lips brushing Elodie's ear.

Cassius Chaney. He works for the Randalls.

Sofia looked around nervously, as if saying his name might summon him.

He handles the problems that money cannot fix.

Elodie looked back down. Cassius Chaney.

The name unlocked a door in the back of her mind.

Flashback. Three years ago. New York.

Elodie was twenty. She was sneaking past her father's home office to get to the kitchen for a midnight snack. The heavy oak door was ajar.

She saw a young man standing opposite her father. He looked younger then, rougher around the edges, but the posture was identical. Shoulders back, spine like a steel rod.

Hazen was handing him a thick manila envelope.

Keep the Vegas problem quiet, Hazen had said.

The young man had taken the envelope. He turned to leave. He saw Elodie standing in the hallway, clutching a bag of pretzels.

He didn't say a word. He didn't apologize for being seen. He just winked at her. A cold, knowing wink. And walked past her.

Back in the present, Elodie gripped the railing.

It was him. The man her father paid to bury his secrets.

Her heart began to race. Not from fear, but from opportunity.

If Cassius Chaney handled Hazen's dirty work in Vegas, then Cassius Chaney knew about the trust fund. He might know about Joshuah.

Fate had just dropped the key to her freedom in her lap.

But he was dangerous. Sofia was terrified of him.

Elodie looked at the stairs leading down to the pit. She thought about Kade. She thought about being an "asset."

She made a choice.

I need to talk to him, Elodie said.

Sofia grabbed her arm. Are you crazy? He eats girls like you for breakfast.

I am not hungry, Elodie quips. The adrenaline was masking the fear.

She pulled her arm from Sofia's grip.

She walked toward the stairs. She checked her reflection in a glass pane on the wall. The sequins glittered. Her lipstick was red. She looked like a Vegas party girl.

Perfect camouflage.