Chapter 3 3

The elevator ride up to the penthouse was silent. Tony stood in front of the doors, blocking the view, a wall of muscle and cheap suit.

Claire stared at the back of his neck. She imagined jamming a pen into his jugular. The thought was so vivid, so calm, it scared her.

Not yet, she told herself. Patience.

The doors slid open.

Derrick Osborn stood in the center of the living room. He was already dressed in his party suit-navy blue, tailored to perfection. He looked like a Kennedy. He looked like the American Dream.

"Sweetheart!"

He spread his arms and walked toward her. His smile was dazzling, practiced in front of a thousand mirrors.

Claire forced her feet to move. She walked into his embrace. His arms closed around her, and she felt her skin crawl. He smelled of sandalwood and deceit.

"You scared me," he murmured into her hair. His grip was tight. Too tight. "Running off like that."

Claire pulled back, feigning weakness. She let her shoulders slump. "I'm sorry. I just... I panicked. The party, the press... it's all so much."

Derrick's eyes softened, but there was a flicker of annoyance deep in his pupils. He hated weakness. He only tolerated it when he could exploit it.

"Shh," he soothed, guiding her toward the kitchen island. "It's just nerves. I have something that will help."

He walked to the counter. There was a glass of water waiting, and a small amber prescription bottle.

Claire watched him unscrew the cap. He shook out two small white pills.

She knew those pills.

He told her they were vitamins. High-end supplements to help her skin glow.

In reality, they were a cocktail of benzodiazepines and synthetic estrogen. They made her docile, foggy, and compliant. They were the reason she had spent the last timeline in a haze, signing whatever documents he put in front of her.

"Here," Derrick said, turning around with the pills in his palm. "Take these. You'll feel better in twenty minutes."

Claire took the pills. They felt chalky against her skin.

Derrick picked up the water glass and held it out. He watched her. His gaze was intense, focused on her mouth. He wouldn't look away until he saw her swallow.

"For us," he said softly. "For our future."

Claire raised her hand. She brought the pills to her lips. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. If she took them, her mind would dull. She would lose her edge. She would lose the game.

Bang!

The front door of the apartment slammed open against the wall.

"Derrick, you son of a bitch!"

Piper Stone stormed in. She was a whirlwind of red hair and fury, wearing ripped jeans and a leather jacket.

Derrick flinched, his head snapping toward the door. "Piper? What the hell-"

In that split second, Claire moved.

Her hand, cupped over her mouth, slid down. With a flick of her wrist, the pills dropped from her palm into the long, loose sleeve of her trench coat.

She grabbed the water glass and took a huge gulp, tilting her head back, mimicking the motion of swallowing.

Derrick turned back to her.

Claire lowered the glass. It was half empty. She wiped her mouth and gave a small, watery cough.

Derrick's shoulders relaxed. He smiled. He thought she was medicated. He thought she was safe.

"Piper," Derrick said, his voice regaining its composure. "We are having a private moment."

Piper marched up to him and poked him in the chest with a manicured nail. "You fired my stylist? Who does that? I had to drive all the way from SoHo to fix this mess."

She grabbed Claire's arm, pulling her away from Derrick. "Look at her! She looks like a ghost. You're stressing her out."

"I am taking care of her," Derrick said icily.

"Derrick," Claire said. Her voice was soft, but steady. "I want to go to the Manor."

Derrick froze. "What? No. We have the party at six."

"I want to see Mom and Dad," Claire said. She widened her eyes, channeling the 'needy fiancée' persona. "I need their blessing. I feel... unmoored. If I don't see them, I don't think I can walk down the aisle next year."

It was a threat wrapped in a whine.

Derrick hesitated. He needed the Avila family money. He couldn't risk her backing out now. And he believed the drugs were already dissolving in her stomach. She would be pliable soon.

"I'll drive you," Derrick offered.

"No!" Piper interjected. "No boys allowed. This is girl talk. I'll drive her. We'll be back by five. Promise."

Derrick looked at Claire, then at Piper. He calculated the risk.

"Fine," he said, checking his watch. He leaned in and kissed Claire on the forehead. His lips were cold. "Be back by five. Or I'm coming to get you."

"I promise," Claire whispered.

Derrick grabbed his briefcase and left, signaling Tony to follow him.

The moment the door clicked shut, Claire ran to the bathroom. She shook her sleeve over the toilet. The two white pills fell into the water. She flushed them, watching them swirl away.

She leaned against the sink, breathing hard.

Piper appeared in the doorway. She crossed her arms, her expression shifting from angry to concerned.

"You okay, C? You look like you're about to murder someone."

Claire looked up. She met her best friend's eyes in the mirror. For the first time since waking up, her smile reached her eyes.

"Not murder, Piper," Claire said. "Justice. Grab your keys. We're going to the Manor, and we're going to start a war."