Chapter 4

Clara pushed open the heavy glass door of the conservatory.

The humid, earthy air washed over her face. The automated sprinkler system hissed, misting the exotic plants.

She walked behind a massive Monstera plant. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her trench coat. Her fingers brushed the cold metal of her phone.

The sharp click of heels on stone sounded behind her. Bria's hostile face appeared in the doorway.

Bria looked around. No maids. No security cameras. The fake, sweet smile vanished from her face.

She marched up to Clara and crossed her arms, looking down her nose.

Clara ignored her. She reached out and casually traced the petal of a blooming orchid.

Bria's temper flared. She swatted Clara's hand away. "Don't touch my things."

Clara smoothly pulled her hand back and slipped it into her pocket. Her thumb found the side button on her phone. She pressed it twice.

A tiny vibration pulsed against her thigh. The recording had started. The hissing sprinklers masked the sound perfectly.

Clara lowered her eyelashes. She forced her shoulders to slump.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Clara asked, her voice trembling just enough to sound pathetic.

Bria's ego swelled. She let out a cruel, triumphant laugh.

She stepped into Clara's personal space. "Because you stole eighteen years of my life. I'm going to make sure you leave here with absolutely nothing."

"Is that why you put the pearl earring in my closet?" Clara asked, her voice cracking.

"Yes," Bria sneered without hesitation. "I paid the cleaner for the spare key. I shoved it behind your trashy shoes myself."

Bria's eyes gleamed with manic excitement. "Even if Helen finds out, so what? Blood is blood. They will always choose me."

Clara stared at Bria's twisted face. Her thumb gently rubbed the screen of her phone inside her pocket.

"You're just an unwanted orphan," Bria spat. "You never deserved Preston."

Clara had enough audio.

She lifted her head. The fake fear vanished, replaced by a gaze so cold it could freeze boiling water.

"Your brain capacity," Clara said, her voice dropping to a deadpan drawl, "matches Preston's perfectly."

Bria froze. The sudden shift in Clara's aura hit her like a physical wall. She stumbled backward, her heel catching on the stone path.

Humiliated, Bria raised her hand and swung hard at Clara's face.

Clara's hand shot out. She clamped her fingers around Bria's wrist like a steel vise. She squeezed.

Bria shrieked in pain.

Clara twisted her wrist and shoved hard. Bria lost her footing entirely. She tumbled backward into the dirt, crushing three expensive orchids beneath her weight.

Bria screamed. She looked down at the dark mud smeared across her white dress. "You psycho!"

Clara stood over her. "Stay out of my way. Or you'll regret it."

Clara turned and walked toward the glass doors. Inside her pocket, her thumb hit stop. The audio file instantly synced to her cloud drive.

Bria scrambled in the mud. "You won't make it out of New York alive!" she screamed at Clara's back.

Clara pushed the door open and stepped back into the sunlight. Her chest felt light. She had the kill shot.

She didn't look up at the second floor.

Behind the half-open glass doors of the study balcony, Felix stood in the shadows.

He held a glass of whiskey. He hadn't heard a word, but he had watched Clara effortlessly drop Bria into the dirt. The dark amusement in his eyes deepened into something much more dangerous.