Chapter 3

The afternoon sun baked the Bradshaw estate. Estelle, Bryan, and Diana had left hours ago for their social obligations. Harmony had rushed out to meet her friends.

The massive house was suffocatingly quiet. Only Brooklyn and Kristen remained.

Brooklyn sat on the long velvet sofa in the living room. A massive, heavy art book on classical paintings rested on her lap. The thick pages smelled of old paper and ink.

Footsteps approached. Kristen walked into the living room, carrying a silver tray with a steaming porcelain teapot and two cups. Her smile was perfectly measured, soft and inviting.

"Sister," Kristen said, her voice dripping with honey. "All alone? I brewed some Earl Grey. Would you like a cup?"

Brooklyn slowly lifted her eyes from the painting of a stormy sea. She looked at the steam rising from the spout.

"No," Brooklyn said, her voice flat.

Kristen didn't miss a beat. She set the tray down on the glass coffee table and took a seat opposite Brooklyn. She poured the dark amber liquid into a cup, her movements slow and elegant.

"Sister, I heard what happened this morning," Kristen said, wrapping her manicured fingers around the warm porcelain. "Harmony has a terrible temper. Please don't take it to heart."

Brooklyn turned a page of her book. The thick paper made a sharp swish in the quiet room. She didn't look up.

Kristen took a delicate sip, her eyes studying Brooklyn over the rim of the cup. "Actually, everyone is just worried about you. The country must have been so hard. You probably haven't seen much of the world. It's natural to feel out of place in a house like this."

Brooklyn snapped the heavy book shut. The thud echoed off the walls. She locked her eyes onto Kristen's. Her gaze was sharp enough to draw blood.

"And?" Brooklyn asked.

Kristen flinched, the teacup rattling slightly against the saucer. She quickly recovered, letting out a soft, sympathetic sigh.

"And," Kristen continued, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret, "I was thinking... if you feel uncomfortable around Harmony and Grandma, maybe you could move into the guest house? Or... there are empty rooms in the servant's quarters. It would be much quieter for you."

Brooklyn's eyebrow twitched upward. A slow, chilling smile spread across her lips. The sheer audacity of the girl was almost entertaining.

"The servant's quarters," Brooklyn repeated, tasting the words. "Is that your 'kind' suggestion, sister?"

Kristen's eyes widened in mock panic. She waved her free hand. "No! I didn't mean it like that! I just thought, if you wanted to avoid their scolding, a change of scenery might-"

Brooklyn stood up. She towered over Kristen, casting a long shadow across the coffee table.

"Kristen," Brooklyn said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Your tea is good. Your manipulation is better. But I don't need your 'kindness.' And I am not afraid of anyone's scolding."

She picked up the heavy art book and turned toward the stairs.

"As for where I sleep," Brooklyn threw over her shoulder, "that is none of your business."

Kristen's sweet smile froze, cracking at the edges. She stared at Brooklyn's retreating back, a flash of pure, venomous hatred burning in her eyes.

"Refuse a toast, only to drink a forfeit," Kristen muttered under her breath, her fingers gripping the teacup so hard her knuckles turned white.

Brooklyn walked into her room and tossed the book onto the bed. Her phone buzzed. It was a call from Diana.

"Brooklyn," Diana's voice came through the speaker, sounding exhausted and thin. "I have a charity gala tonight. I'll be home very late. Will you... be okay eating dinner alone?"

"Fine," Brooklyn said, and hung up.

She walked over to the window. Down below, in the manicured garden, Harmony had just returned with three other girls. They were laughing loudly, their designer bags flashing in the sun.

One of the girls pointed up at the second-floor windows. "Harmony, is that your new sister?"

Harmony's loud, mocking voice drifted up through the glass. "Don't even mention her. She's a country bumpkin. A total embarrassment."

Brooklyn stood perfectly still. She tapped her index finger against the wooden window frame. Tap. Tap. Tap. The rhythm matched the cadence of Harmony's laughter. Then, her finger stopped.

She turned away from the window and dialed Garret's number.

"Tomorrow's auction," Brooklyn ordered, her voice crisp and commanding. "Prep the car. I'm going in person."

Garret hesitated. "Boss, in person? Won't that risk exposing-"

"It won't," Brooklyn cut him off. "I'll enter as an anonymous buyer. I need some entertainment."

She ended the call. She walked over to the closet and pulled out her battered duffel bag. She unzipped a hidden lining at the very bottom and reached inside.

Her fingers brushed against a small velvet pouch. She pulled it out and untied the string.

A solid metal black card slid into her palm. It had no bank logo. No name. Just a string of deeply engraved, encrypted numbers. The metal was cold against her skin, a familiar, grounding weight.

Down in the garden, Kristen walked out onto the patio, joining Harmony's group. Kristen leaned in and whispered something. Harmony threw her head back and laughed, shooting a triumphant glare up at Brooklyn's window.

Brooklyn felt the glare. The cold smile returned to her lips.

"The show starts tomorrow," she whispered to the empty room.

Night fell over the estate. The mansion blazed with lights, but Brooklyn's room was dark, save for a single desk lamp. She sat in the pool of yellow light, flipping through the MK Auction House preview catalog.

Her finger stopped on page forty-two. A stunning, unmounted antique emerald. Her eyes locked onto the green stone, her pulse finally giving a slow, steady thud of anticipation.