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.

The black Rolls-Royce Phantom idled outside the wrought-iron gates of St. Jude's Prep School.

Ariel stepped out. She smoothed down her plaid uniform skirt. She looked at the sea of designer bags and luxury cars.

This is literally Gossip Girl, Ariel thought. I hate it here.

Cherilyn slid out of the car. Her face transformed instantly. A perfect, radiant smile stretched across her lips. She linked her arm through Ariel's.

Get your hands off me, you snake, Ariel thought.Two days ago you tried to poison my breakfast, and now you’re playing sweet sister? What fresh hell is this?

In a boardroom on Wall Street, Jonas stopped mid-sentence.

In an art gallery in SoHo, Eleanor dropped her catalog.

They both heard the warning. Their muscles tensed.

Cherilyn pulled Ariel into the VIP cloakroom. The heavy oak door clicked shut. They were alone.

Cherilyn dropped Ariel's arm. The smile vanished from her face.

She opened her Hermes Birkin bag. She pulled out a limited-edition Tom Ford lipstick. She turned to the mirror and slowly applied it.

"Ariel," Cherilyn said. Her voice was smooth, cold, and dripping with venom. "Do you really think you can just walk into this family and replace me?"

Ariel leaned against the metal lockers. She lowered her head, pretending to look terrified.

Replace you? Ariel thought. I just want to grab some cash and run away before you all end up in jail.

Cherilyn turned around. She stepped into Ariel's personal space.

"I am the queen of this school," Cherilyn whispered. "You are going to be a ghost. You will not speak. You will not look at my friends."

Yeah, okay, Ariel thought. You're the queen. And you're going to get arrested for hiring a hitman right after the Pierce acquisition fails later this year.

On a movie set in Hollywood, Greggory choked on his Perrier water. He coughed violently, waving off his makeup artist.

Cherilyn reached out and adjusted Ariel's collar. Her fingers brushed Ariel's neck. It was a threat.

"If you cross me," Cherilyn said softly, "I will socially execute you. You will have nothing."

Ariel shivered visibly. "I understand, sister."

Your friends? Ariel mocked in her mind. You mean Paige? The one who is sleeping with your fiancé every weekend in his penthouse?

The bomb dropped.

Every single Washington family member stopped breathing. The sheer magnitude of the scandal echoed in their skulls.

Cherilyn smirked. She patted Ariel's cheek, turned on her Christian Louboutin heels, and walked out of the cloakroom.

Ariel let out a long breath. She opened her locker and grabbed her history textbook.

She walked out into the main hallway.

A group of girls walked toward her. They looked like clones in high-end couture.

Kendall Finch, Cherilyn's top minion, led the pack. She locked eyes with Ariel. A nasty smirk played on her lips.

Kendall sped up. She slammed her shoulder hard into Ariel's chest.

The impact knocked the wind out of Ariel. Her textbook and pens scattered across the marble floor.

"Oops," Kendall said loudly. Her voice echoed down the hall. "Sorry, new girl. Didn't see you down there."

The hallway erupted in low, cruel laughter. Dozens of students stopped to watch the show.

Ariel rubbed her shoulder. She squatted down to pick up her pens.

This is elementary school bullying, Ariel thought. Are these really Manhattan elites?

She picked up a yellow pencil.

Laugh all you want, Kendall, Ariel thought. Your dad's hedge fund is getting raided by the SEC tomorrow for insider trading. You're going to be bankrupt by Friday.

In his office, Devontae's eyes widened. He slammed his hands onto his keyboard. He immediately pulled up the Finch hedge fund. He started aggressively shorting their stock.

At the end of the hallway, Cherilyn gasped dramatically. She rushed forward, playing the role of the concerned sister.

Here comes the white lotus, Ariel thought. Someone get me a barf bag.

In his Wall Street office, Jonas's face turned into a mask of pure rage. He slammed his fist onto the intercom.

"Get my helicopter ready," Jonas roared at his assistant. "Now."