The iron gates of Stanton Manor were closed.

Belle didn't wait for the intercom. She leaned across the center console and slammed her hand onto the horn. The Jeep blared a long, aggressive note that shattered the peaceful afternoon of the wealthy neighborhood.

"Open the damn gate!" she screamed out the window.

The security guard, recognizing the chaos if not the car, scrambled to open it.

Adan gunned the engine. The Jeep roared up the long driveway, gravel crunching under the tires.

Before the car even stopped moving completely, Belle kicked the door open. She jumped out, her boots hitting the pavement hard. Her knees buckled for a second, but adrenaline snapped them straight.

A figure stepped out from the shadows of the portico.

Jonas.

He looked good. Too good. Crisp shirt, perfect hair, the face of a tortured poet that had made her fall in love with him freshman year.

He grabbed her shoulders. His grip was painful.

"Is it true?" he shouted, shaking her. "Whose bastard is it, Belle? Did you go to Paris just to become a whore?"

The words were like a slap. Belle stared at him, the world spinning. The smell of his cologne-the one she used to buy him-made her want to vomit again.

"Get your hands off me," she hissed.

"Answer me! Flo saw you!"

"Flo is a liar, and you are a pathetic idiot," Belle spat.

Jonas raised his hand, his face twisted in ugly rage.

Crack.

Adan's fist connected with Jonas's jaw. It was a beautiful, solid sound. Jonas stumbled back, tripping over his own feet, blood instantly blooming on his lip.

"Touch her again," Adan growled, stepping in front of Belle, "and you'll need a straw to eat your dinner."

Belle didn't wait to see if Jonas got up. She turned and ran up the steps. She burst through the front doors.

The house smelled of lilies and furniture polish. It was silent.

"Aryana!" Belle screamed. Her voice echoed off the marble floors.

She ran up the grand staircase, taking the steps two at a time. She knew exactly where her sister would be. The master suite. The one that used to belong to Belle's mother.

She reached the door and didn't bother with the handle. She kicked it. The lock splintered. The door flew open and banged against the wall.

Aryana was standing in front of the full-length mirror. She was wearing a white silk robe.

And the sapphire necklace.

She screamed when Belle burst in. "You're crazy! Get out!"

Belle crossed the room in three strides. She was a whirlwind of leather and fury.

Aryana tried to cover the necklace with her hands. "Daddy gave it to me! It's for the engagement!"

"It's mine," Belle snarled.

She grabbed the chain. She didn't unclasp it. She yanked.

The gold clasp snapped. The metal scraped against Aryana's neck, leaving a thin red welt.

"Ow! You hurt me!" Aryana shrieked, lunging at Belle with clawed hands.

Belle sidestepped. She raised her hand and slapped Aryana across the face.

The sound was sharp, loud, and final.

Aryana froze. Her hand flew to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock. She fell back onto the bed, gasping.

Belle stood over her, breathing hard. She clutched the necklace in her fist, the diamonds biting into her palm.

"Listen to me," Belle whispered, leaning down. Her voice was low, dangerous. "I saw you in the bathroom this morning on Instagram. I saw the ginger tea. I saw the way you're holding your stomach."

Aryana's pupils dilated. Her face went from red to ghostly white.

"If you don't want Carlton to know that you trapped him with a baby before the ring was even on your finger," Belle hissed, "you will shut your mouth. You will never touch my mother's things again."

Aryana trembled. Tears leaked from her eyes, but she didn't make a sound. She was terrified.

Belle straightened up. She clasped the necklace around her own neck. The cold metal against her feverish skin felt like victory.

"Happy engagement, sis," Belle said, and walked out.

Belle walked down the stairs slowly. Her energy was fading. The adrenaline crash was coming.

In the foyer, the scene had changed.

Jonas was sitting on a bench, holding a silk handkerchief to his already swelling lip. His jaw was mottled with an ugly, rapidly purpling bruise.

When Kathern saw Belle, her face twisted into a mask of pure hatred.

"You," Kathern shrieked. "Look at what you've done! You savage!"

Ewart Stanton stepped out of his study. He looked older, heavier, but his eyes were just as cold.

"Belle," he barked. "Give the necklace back to your sister. Now."

"No," Belle said. She reached the bottom step. "It's legally mine. Check the trust."

"I am the trustee!" Ewart raised his hand, stepping forward. He was going to strike her. Belle didn't flinch. She just stared at him, daring him to do it.

The heavy oak front doors swung open.

"Mr. Bryan is here!" the butler announced, his voice cracking with tension.

Ewart's hand froze in mid-air.

He lowered it slowly. He smoothed his tie. He forced a smile onto his face that looked like a rictus of pain.

"Carlton!" Kathern exclaimed, turning around and beaming as if she hadn't just been screaming. "What a wonderful surprise!"

Carlton Bryan walked in. He was flanked by two assistants carrying garment bags. He was tall, blonde, and exuded the easy confidence of someone who had never heard the word 'no'.

He stopped. He looked at Jonas, whose face was a mess, bleeding on the bench. He looked at Belle, disheveled, pale, wearing a leather jacket and a priceless sapphire necklace.

"Jonas?" Carlton asked, frowning. "What happened to your face?"

"He fell," Jonas muttered, his words slightly slurred from the injury. "Clumsy boy. And this is Belle. She... just arrived from Paris. She's a bit tired. Emotional."

She tapped her temple subtly. Crazy.

Aryana came running down the stairs. She had fixed her makeup, but her cheek was still slightly red. She threw herself at Carlton.

"Darling!" She buried her face in his chest, hiding the slap mark. "Let's go to the garden. It's so stuffy in here."

Belle watched them. She saw the way Aryana positioned her body to protect her stomach.

Belle cleared her throat.

"Wait."

The room went deadly silent. Aryana stiffened. Kathern looked like she was praying for a lightning strike to hit Belle.

Belle walked up to Carlton. She extended her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Carlton. I'm the sister they don't talk about."

Carlton looked down at her. He took her hand. His palm was warm. He looked at the bandage on her hand, then up to her eyes. He seemed amused.

"A pleasure, Belle. Nice necklace."

"Thanks," Belle said. She looked at Aryana. "It's a family heirloom. Right, Aryana?"

Aryana looked like she was going to faint.

"Right," Aryana squeaked.

Belle leaned in closer to Carlton, but kept her eyes on her father. "Take care of her, Carlton. She's full of... surprises."

She dropped his hand.

"Adan," she said, not looking back. "Let's go to the garage."

She walked past her father, past her ex-boyfriend, past the stepmother who hated her. She walked out the back door, leaving a wake of silence and terror behind her.

The garage was a mausoleum of forgotten luxury.

Dust sheets covered four cars. Belle pulled the cover off the red Porsche 911. It was her mother's favorite. A thick layer of grey dust coated the sleek red paint.

"It won't start," Adan said, peering through the window. "Battery is probably dead."

Belle leaned against the door, sliding down until she was sitting on the concrete floor. She put her head in her hands.

"I'm so tired, Adan."

Adan sat next to her. He handed her a bottle of water he'd snagged from the kitchen. "You did it, though. You got the necklace."

"Yeah." Belle touched the stone. "But I have no money. I checked my accounts on the way here. Ewart froze everything. 'Suspicious activity', the bank said. Everything except the one emergency card he lets me keep for appearances-the one with a laughable limit he monitors like a hawk."

"We can use my card," Adan offered.

"No. I need thousands, Adan. The PI needs the final payment or he won't give me the file on the driver."

She pulled a folded, crinkled photo from her pocket. It was grainy, taken from a CCTV camera three years ago. It showed a man's back. He was pulling Belle out of a burning car.

He was the reason she was alive. He was the reason she had left New York. And then he had vanished.

"The Missing Man," Adan sighed. "Belle, maybe he doesn't want to be found."

"He saved me," Belle said fiercely. "And then someone erased him from the police report. Why? I need to know."

She stood up. "I'm taking the Jeep. You stay here."

"Where are you going?"

"To the repair shop. Maybe I can sell some of my old designer bags. I need cash."

"I'm coming with you."

"No," Belle said. "I need you to do something else. You know people, Adan. Find one of your contacts, a PI, anyone. I need to know if Kathern is moving money out of the household accounts. If I can get leverage, I can force her hand."

Adan hesitated. "It's dangerous."

"We're already in danger," Belle said. She climbed into the Jeep. "Text me if you find anything."

She drove out of the estate, her mind racing. Money. She needed money.

Her phone rang. It was the Private Investigator.

"Belle," the voice was gravelly. "I hit a wall. The license plate on the car that picked up your mystery man? It's fake. Government issue, maybe. Or high-level corporate security."

"So what do I do?" Belle asked, gripping the steering wheel.

"I need more resources. It's going to cost another ten grand."

"Ten..." Belle choked. "Fine. Just... give me a few days."

She hung up, frustration blinding her. She looked down at the phone to disconnect the call.

She didn't see the light turn red.

She didn't see the sleek, black car stopped at the intersection ahead.

She looked up just as the Jeep's brakes locked.

SCREECH.