Chapter 2

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.