The dining room of the Washington Long Island estate felt like a mausoleum.

Ariel sat at the end of the massive mahogany table. She stared at the French omelet on her Versace plate.

This house is freezing, Ariel thought. It feels like a graveyard.

At the head of the table, Conrad held the Wall Street Journal. The corner of his mouth twitched. He gripped the paper tighter to stop his hands from shaking.

Cherilyn walked into the dining room. She wore a pristine silk robe. She carried a crystal glass filled with a thick, green liquid.

She set the glass down right in front of Ariel.

"I had this organic cold-pressed juice flown in from Brooklyn," Cherilyn said. Her voice dripped with honey. "It's exactly what your body needs to recover."

Ariel looked up. She forced a shy smile. "Thank you, sister."

Organic juice my ass, Ariel thought. It's laced with Adderall extract. It's going to fry my nervous system.

Eleanor was lifting a porcelain cup of black coffee to her lips.

The words Adderall extract hit her brain. Her hand jerked. Hot coffee splashed over the rim, staining her silk Hermes scarf.

Conrad lowered his newspaper. His eyes locked onto the green liquid. A cold, murderous intent flashed in his pupils.

Cherilyn didn't notice. She smiled down at Ariel.

"Drink it quickly," Cherilyn urged. "The antioxidants fade if it sits too long."

Antioxidants? Ariel rolled her eyes in her mind. You mean the drug will evaporate. You are a complete psychopath. All this just to steal my trust fund.

Conrad's grip on his newspaper tightened for a fraction of a second, a sharp, authoritative signal Eleanor had understood for forty years. His eyes darted to her, cold and expectant.

Ariel sighed. She reached out her hand. She planned to take a sip and spit it into her napkin.

Her fingertips brushed the cold crystal glass.

Eleanor stood up abruptly.

Her ankle twisted. She threw her entire body weight forward. Her arm swept across the mahogany wood.

Her wrist slammed into the crystal glass.

The glass launched into the air. The green liquid spun in the morning light. It splashed directly onto Cherilyn's pristine silk robe.

The glass hit the hardwood floor and shattered.

Cherilyn shrieked. She looked down at the dark green stains ruining her clothes. Her face turned purple with rage.

Eleanor clutched her chest. She gasped for air.

"Oh my goodness!" Eleanor cried out. "I am so sorry, Cherilyn. I stood up too fast. I felt so dizzy."

Ariel pulled her hand back. Her heart raced.

This woman never trips, Ariel thought. She walks like she's floating. Does she have early-onset cerebellar atrophy?

Eleanor's face froze. She swallowed hard and looked away.

"Get the butler," Eleanor told the maid. "Clean this up immediately."

Cherilyn forced her hands to uncurl. She squeezed a tear out of her eye.

"It's okay, Mother," Cherilyn whimpered. "I'm just sad Ariel didn't get to drink it."

"Go change," Conrad said. His voice was like cracked ice. "Do not stand in my dining room looking like that."

Cherilyn flinched. The coldness in his voice felt like a physical blow. She turned and practically ran out of the room.

Ariel watched her leave.

Keep crying, you snake, Ariel thought. If they sent that juice to a lab, you'd be sitting in a federal prison by tonight.

Conrad's eyes darted to the butler. He gave a sharp, almost invisible nod.

The butler knelt on the floor. He swept up the glass. With a swift motion, he pressed a sterile cotton cloth into the wet rug. He slipped the soaked cloth into a plastic ziplock bag in his pocket.

Wow, rich people's maids are so extra, Ariel thought. He's cleaning the floor like it's a crime scene.

Eleanor sat back down. She smoothed her stained scarf.

"Bring Ariel a glass of warm milk," Eleanor instructed the maid. Her voice trembled slightly.

Ariel stared at the empty spot on the table. Her stomach tied into knots.

The poison juice failed, Ariel thought. Now they are switching to milk? This family is trying so hard to murder me.

Conrad and Eleanor looked at each other. They couldn't breathe. The weight of the misunderstanding crushed their chests.

The steel door of the underground bunker hissed as it sealed shut.

It was a soundproof vault beneath the Long Island estate. No cell service. No Wi-Fi.

Conrad tossed a manila folder onto the black walnut desk.

"The toxicology report from the private lab in Manhattan," Conrad said. His voice was gravel.

Jonas snatched the paper. His eyes scanned the text.

High concentration of hallucinogenic and neurotoxic compounds.

Jonas slammed his fist into the concrete wall. The skin on his knuckles split. Blood welled up.

"That bitch," Jonas snarled. "She actually poisoned her in our own house."

Eleanor collapsed onto the leather sofa. She buried her face in her hands. Dry sobs racked her shoulders.

"If we hadn't heard that voice," Eleanor gasped, "my baby would be brain-damaged right now."

Greggory paced the floor. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and bit the end off. He didn't light it.

"We all hear it, right?" Greggory asked. His chest heaved. "The voice in her head. The predictions."

Devontae sat in the corner. He stared at his laptop screen.

"It defies every law of physics," Devontae muttered. "But it's real. I checked the hedge fund code she mentioned yesterday. There was a backdoor vulnerability. Exactly where she said it would be."

Jonas wiped the blood from his hand. He looked at his father.

"We need to go to her room," Jonas said. "We tell her we can hear her. We make her tell us everything that's going to happen."

Conrad nodded slowly. He picked up his cane.

"Let's go," Conrad said.

He took one step toward the steel door. He opened his mouth to say, We are going to tell Ariel.

His throat closed.

It wasn't a metaphor. An invisible hand clamped around Conrad's windpipe.

His face turned dark purple. The veins on his forehead bulged against his skin. He dropped his cane. His hands clawed at his own neck. He couldn't pull in a single ounce of oxygen.

"Dad!" Jonas yelled. He lunged forward.

Jonas thought, I need to tell Ariel.

Instantly, Jonas's vocal cords paralyzed. His knees buckled. He hit the floor, gasping like a fish on dry land.

Eleanor screamed. She rushed to them.

"Stop!" Devontae yelled. He realized it first. "Don't think about telling her! Stop thinking about it!"

Conrad forced his mind blank. He focused on the concrete floor.

Air rushed back into his lungs. He coughed violently, spitting saliva onto the floor. Jonas dragged himself up, his chest heaving.

They sat in silence. Cold sweat soaked through their expensive shirts.

"A rule," Devontae whispered. His hands shook. "We can use the information. But we cannot tell her. The universe won't let us."

Greggory let out a dark, bitter laugh. "No wonder she thinks we are psychopaths. We can't even explain ourselves."

Conrad picked up his cane. He leaned heavily on it. His eyes hardened into black stones.

"From this second on," Conrad ordered, "Ariel's thoughts are classified as Tier-One corporate intelligence. We act. We do not speak."

Suddenly, Ariel's voice bloomed in their minds again, as clear and sharp as if she were standing right beside them.

Ariel was in her bedroom on the second floor.

This mansion is so creepy at night, Ariel thought. I bet Jonas is sleeping like a baby. He doesn't know Caspian is going to steal everything from him tomorrow.

Jonas's head snapped up. His heart skipped a beat. Caspian was his best friend from college.

Caspian took the bribe from the rival firm, Ariel's voice echoed in their heads. He's going to copy Jonas's cloud keys at the golf club tomorrow at 3 PM.

Jonas's stomach twisted into a tight knot. Acid burned the back of his throat.

Conrad stared at Jonas.

Jonas pulled out his phone. He opened his messages.

Caspian: Golf club tomorrow. 3 PM. Don't be late, brother.

The time. The place. The person. It was a perfect match.

Whatever, Ariel thought. The Washingtons are doomed anyway. I need to save up for a plane ticket to Hawaii and run away.

The five of them sat in the bunker. They listened to her plan her escape from their sinking ship.

Jonas gripped his phone until the screen cracked. He wasn't going to let this ship sink.

The morning sun hit the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Washington Tower on Wall Street.

Jonas stood by the glass. His eyes were bloodshot. He hadn't slept.

He pressed the intercom button on his desk.

"Deploy the decoy files to the core servers," Jonas ordered his Chief Cybersecurity Officer. "Activate the tracking scripts."

Twenty miles away, in the Long Island estate, Ariel was eating a blueberry muffin.

Today is the day Jonas gets ruined, Ariel thought. Caspian is probably sitting in the VIP lounge right now with a Trojan horse on his flash drive.

Jonas heard it. His fingers tightened around his ceramic coffee mug.

His phone vibrated on the desk. A voice note from Caspian.

"Hey man, get to the club early. I've got a killer proposal to show you."

Yesterday, Jonas would have smiled. Today, the sound of Caspian's voice made his skin crawl.

Jonas hit the intercom again.

"Call Caspian," Jonas told his assistant. "Tell him I have acute gastroenteritis. Cancel the golf trip."

"Sir?" the assistant asked. "That's our biggest merger meeting."

"Do it," Jonas snapped.

He hung up. He logged into the master terminal. He downgraded Caspian's database access to read-only.

At 3 PM, Caspian sat in the golf club VIP room. He checked his watch. He cursed under his breath.

He pulled out his encrypted laptop. He connected to the Washington servers remotely. He needed those files today.

He typed in his password. He hit enter.

A massive red screen flashed.

ACCESS DENIED.

Caspian's heart slammed against his ribs. He hammered the keyboard. Nothing worked.

In his office, Jonas watched a red dot blink on his monitor. The tracking script had locked onto Caspian's IP address and physical GPS location.

Jonas's chest felt hollow. His best friend was a rat.

He took a screenshot. He emailed the entire packet to his head of corporate security and the firm's ruthless litigation department. He added a single instruction: Destroy him.

That night, Jonas walked into the Long Island estate. His muscles ached. The betrayal weighed on his shoulders like lead.

He saw Ariel walking down the hallway in her pajamas.

Ariel stopped. Her eyes went wide.

Wait, Ariel thought. Why is he home? Why isn't he crying over his stolen company? Did the plot change?

Jonas stopped in front of her. He looked down at the girl who had just saved his life and his empire. His throat felt tight. He couldn't say thank you. The curse would choke him.

He reached out his hand. He rested his palm on the top of her head. He gave her hair a gentle, awkward pat.

"Get some sleep," Jonas said softly.

Ariel froze. Her entire body went rigid. Her breath hitched.

Oh my god! Ariel screamed in her mind. Why is he touching my head?! Did he find out I ate his black caviar from the wine cellar?! Is he measuring my skull to crush it?!

Jonas bit the inside of his cheek. The pain stopped him from bursting into laughter.

He pulled his hand back, faked a cough, and walked quickly to his room.

He's completely lost his mind, Ariel thought, watching him run away.

At the end of the hallway, hidden in the shadows, Cherilyn stood perfectly still.

Her fingernails dug so deep into her palms that they drew blood. She watched the cold, ruthless Jonas show affection to Ariel.

Panic seized Cherilyn's chest. She was losing her grip on the family.

She pulled out her phone. She scrolled to her contacts from St. Jude's Prep School.

She was going to destroy Ariel tomorrow.

Ariel walked into her bedroom. She looked at her new school uniform hanging on the door.

Great, Ariel thought. Tomorrow I have to deal with the Upper East Side mean girls. My life is a joke.