Chapter 7

Corinne stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of Justus's temporary Manhattan apartment. She had just stepped out of the shower. She wore a thick white bathrobe, staring down at the sprawling green expanse of Central Park.

The doorbell chimed. A minute later, Justus's butler walked into the room carrying a silver tray. Resting on the velvet was a thick, black envelope sealed with dark red wax.

The wax bore the ornate crest of the Pierce family.

Corinne stared at the seal. A harsh, mocking laugh scraped its way out of her throat. It was the symbol she used to fear, the mark of Evelina's untouchable pedigree.

She picked up the envelope and cracked the wax. Inside was heavy cardstock-an invitation to a private yacht party on the Hudson. The calligraphy was elegant, but the wording was dripping with condescension.

Evelina was officially welcoming her "dear cousin" back to New York society. It was a blatant flex of her status as Corwin's future wife.

Corinne tossed the card onto the glass coffee table. She tapped her fingernails against the edge of the table, her mind dissecting the trap.

It was a slaughterhouse. Evelina wanted to drag her onto a boat, trap her on the water, and publicly execute her reputation in front of the city's elite.

But it was also a golden ticket. It was a closed environment. A chance to get dangerously close to Corwin and force his hand.

Justus strolled into the room, a coffee mug in hand. He glanced at the black card on the table.

"Throw it in the trash," Justus said flatly.

"Why?" Corinne asked, not looking away from the card.

"Because it's a suicide mission. Evelina controls that boat. You step on board, you're a rat in a cage. They will humiliate you until you break."

Corinne turned around. Her eyes were blazing with a terrifying, manic brightness. "You don't win a war by hiding in a bunker, Justus. You win by walking into the enemy's camp and setting it on fire."

Justus stared at her, shaking his head at her reckless arrogance. "You're insane."

Corinne picked up her phone. She opened her email, typed in the address for Evelina's social secretary, and sent a one-word reply: Accept.

She walked past Justus and headed straight for the massive walk-in closet. She didn't need pastel colors or modest cuts to play the victim today. She needed armor.

Her hands moved over the racks until she stopped at a specific garment. She pulled it out. It was a floor-length silk slip dress. The color of fresh arterial blood. The neckline plunged dangerously low.

Justus leaned against the doorframe, watching her hold the dress up. "Do you want my security team to escort you?"

"No," Corinne said, tossing the dress onto the bed. "This is family business. If you're there, Evelina will play nice. I need her to lose her mind."

"Corwin is going to be on that boat," Justus warned, his voice dropping an octave. "He is the law in that circle. If he decides to destroy you, no one will stop him."

Corinne let the bathrobe drop to the floor. She stepped into the crimson dress and pulled it up. The silk clung to every curve of her body like a second skin. She turned to the mirror. She looked lethal.

"I'm going there to break his laws," she whispered to her reflection.

While still inside the expansive walk-in closet, out of Justus's line of sight, she reached into her personal bag and picked up a tiny, flesh-colored earpiece. She slid it into her ear canal, tapping it twice to test the encrypted frequency connecting her to her own private security detail. By the time she stepped back out into the main room, her hair perfectly concealed the device.

Justus watched her emerge, noting the cold, militant precision in her posture. He realized he was looking at a predator, not a pawn.

He walked over to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a sleek, black canister of military-grade pepper spray. He tossed it to her. "Keep it in your purse. Just in case."

Corinne caught it effortlessly. She didn't think she'd need it, but she slipped it into her clutch anyway.

Her phone buzzed on the vanity. She glanced at the screen. A text message from an unsaved number, but she knew the digits by heart. Corwin.

Don't come embarrass yourself.

Corinne stared at the cold, demanding words. A vicious smile stretched across her face. She hit the contact info and pressed 'Block'.

She picked up her clutch and looked at Justus. "The game is on."

She walked out of the apartment. Her heels clicked rhythmically against the hardwood. She looked like a woman walking to her own execution, ready to take the executioner down with her.