Arla changed into a clean pair of jeans and a black turtleneck. When she came downstairs, the living room felt like a funeral parlor.

An old woman with silver hair sat in the high-backed armchair by the fireplace. She held a cane made of dark walnut.

Rose Winters. The Matriarch.

Victoria and Claudine were hovering around her, offering tea, offering pillows. Rose ignored them.

Ellery was in his wheelchair to her right, his head lolling slightly, a glass of water with a straw held to his lips by a nervous maid.

Arla walked in. Rose's head snapped up. Her eyes were sharp, blue, and intelligent.

"So this is the hidden one," Rose said. Her voice was like cracking parchment. "Come here."

"Mrs. Winters," Victoria interjected nervously. "She's not-she doesn't know how to behave in-"

Rose slammed her cane on the floor. Crack.

Victoria shut her mouth.

Arla walked forward. She didn't curtsy. She nodded. "Mrs. Winters."

Rose studied her. She looked at Arla's hands, no manicure. She looked at her eyes, no fear.

"We are going to the Hamptons estate to discuss the engagement details," Rose announced. "You will come."

"Her?" Claudine gasped. "Why?"

"She is family," Rose said. "It is protocol."

Ellery's head twitched. A low moan escaped his lips. His eyes met Arla's over the rim of his water glass. He looked suspicious.

Rose stood up. "Let's go."

Outside, a convoy awaited. A stretch Lincoln limo and two black SUVs.

Claudine rushed to the limo. "We can put Ellery's chair in the limo. I can sit with him and make sure he's comfortable."

Rose stopped at the limo door. She looked at Arla. "Get in."

Arla looked at the dark tinted windows. She looked at Ellery, who was being maneuvered toward the ramp by Silas.

"No thank you," Arla said. "I get carsick. I'll take a cab."

Victoria laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "Drive what? The tractor? You have no money for a cab to the Hamptons."

Arla reached into her pocket and pulled out the thick roll of twenties she always kept for emergencies. She peeled off three bills and held them up.

"I'll see you there," Arla said.

She walked down the long driveway, past the waiting convoy, and out the front gates without looking back. She pulled out her burner phone and ordered an Uber.

From inside the limo, Ellery watched her walk away. Through his feigned haze, a single, sharp thought cut through: she was exactly where she wanted to be, and he had no idea why.

The back of the Lincoln was silent and cold. Rose sat opposite Ellery's wheelchair, which was locked into place where a section of seating had been removed. She stared out the window, ignoring Victoria and Claudine, who were chattering in the seat beside her.

Arla sat in the back of a beat-up Toyota Camry, the Uber driver humming along to the radio. Her phone was connected to a small, discreet earpiece.

"Hey, Auditor," a distorted voice came through. Chloe.

"Hey," Arla said quietly. "I'm heading to the zoo."

"The Winters estate?" Chloe laughed. "Brave. I'm tracking the convoy's GPS. Looks like a presidential motorcade."

Arla watched the black SUVs in the distance. "My fiancé has trust issues."

"Want me to scramble their comms?"

"No. Let them watch."

Inside the limo, Ellery's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. He appeared to be asleep. But he was listening. A high-frequency receiver, disguised as a medical sensor on his wrist, was picking up fragments of cellular traffic. He couldn't hear the words, but he registered the encrypted signal originating from a burner phone on the same route.

His fingers twitched on the armrest of his chair.

He had underestimated her. He'd thought she was just a brilliant accountant he'd picked up, a beautiful anomaly. He never suspected she was a ghost, capable of operating in the shadows he himself inhabited.

He had to revise his entire strategy. The merger with the Fitzgeralds was meant to be a simple, if distasteful, corporate takeover. But Arla... Arla was not a line item on a balance sheet. She was a black swan event.

Silas, sitting in the front passenger seat, glanced in the rearview mirror. He caught the subtle tension in Ellery's jaw.

"Sir?" Silas murmured into his collar mic, a frequency only Ellery's earpiece could receive.

"Dig deeper on Arla," Ellery's voice, clear and cold, came back through the hidden comms. "Not Woods. Fitzgerald. Cross-reference with any sealed juvenile records in her home county. She's not just a black sheep. She's hiding something big."

"I'm trying, sir," Silas's voice was strained. "Her digital footprint is... weirdly clean. Almost too clean."

Ellery's eyes remained closed. "Exactly."

The Winters estate in the Hamptons was a fortress of glass and steel perched on a cliff edge. The waves crashed violently below.

The butler didn't take Arla to the main house. He led her to the greenhouse.

It was humid inside, smelling of damp earth and fertilizer.

Rose Winters was standing by a bush of black roses, holding a pair of sharp shears.

"Your Uber was slow," Rose said without turning.

"It was cheap," Arla replied.

Rose turned. She held out the shears. "Cut the dead ones."

Arla took the tool. She moved to the bush. Snip. Snip. Her movements were precise. She knew anatomy. Plants weren't so different.

"I saw your file," Rose said. "Not the one Victoria sent. The real one."

Arla froze. The shears hovered over a stem. Her heart hammered a warning rhythm.

"The one from the group home. The one that shows four different foster families in five years. The one that ends the day you turned eighteen and vanished."

Arla exhaled. Rose only had the surface layer. She didn't know about The Auditor.

"I was a kid," Arla said. "I survived."

"I don't care about your past," Rose said. She cut a rose head off with a violent snap. "I care about your brain."

She looked at Arla. "Claudine is an idiot. Victoria is a leech. If this marriage proceeds as they've planned it, the Fitzgeralds will bleed us dry. They are parasites."

"Why agree to the marriage then?"

"Ellery needs the merger to stabilize the board. He needs the assets. He doesn't need the family attached to them."

Rose stepped closer. Her eyes were hard. "I want you to sabotage the wedding. But save the merger."

Arla stared at the old woman. "You want me to be the villain?"

"You already are," Rose said. "You hate them. And you're smart."

"What do I get?"

Rose reached into her apron pocket. She pulled out a heavy, brass key.

"Access," Rose said. "Be my 'Honorary Ward.' In this house, under that title, you are untouchable. No one can kick you out. Not even Ellery."

Arla looked at the key. It was a pass to the inner sanctum. A way to get close to Ellery's servers.

"Deal," Arla said. "One condition."

"Name it."

"I want the room next to Ellery's."

Rose smiled. It was a terrifying expression. "Done."

They shook hands.

The greenhouse door opened. Silas walked in, pushing Ellery's wheelchair. He stopped. He saw his grandmother and his boss's fiancée shaking hands over a pile of severed rose heads.

Ellery's head was still tilted, his expression vacant, but a chill that had nothing to do with the damp air went down his spine.