Chapter 2

Maya finally noticed my face. "Evie? What's wrong? You look like you've seen a..."

"Get me a private room," I said, my voice flat. "Now."

She didn't question it, just nodded and hurried off.

The small, anachronistically opulent viewing box smelled of old leather and older money. My assistant, Mark, materialized within minutes of my call, his expression carefully neutral.

"Ms. Winthrop."

"Mark. What in God's name is happening to my sister?"

I kept my eyes on the main room, visible through the one-way glass. Bryce was still talking, Liv preening beside him.

"I'm accessing local information now, Ms. Winthrop." Mark's fingers flew over his tablet. "Preliminary findings are... troubling. It appears Mrs. Margaret Winthrop was admitted to a facility named 'Serene Haven Recovery Center' approximately eighteen months ago. All communication channels with her were subsequently restricted."

My mother. In a "recovery center"?

"And Chloe?"

"Miss Jenkins' access to family funds was cut off around the same time. Records show she's been working multiple part-time jobs. Barista, library assistant, dog walker. She's enrolled at MassArt, taking out significant student loans."

My stomach twisted. The Winthrop name, the legacy my mother's family had built for generations, meant nothing if her own daughter was reduced to this.

Liv's voice, amplified, dripped with saccharine malice. "Oh, Chloe, darling. That first piece is so... evocative. Don't you think? A bargain at, say, fifty thousand? To keep it just between us?"

The screen flickered, showing a still image – Chloe, laughing, hair fanned out on a pillow. An intimate moment, twisted into a public spectacle.

"Don't do anything yet, Mark," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "Let them dig their own graves a little deeper."

He nodded, his face impassive. "Understood."

Outside, the crowd was getting restless, eager for the show.

I watched Chloe. Her shoulders were slumped, but her chin was up. That stubborn Winthrop jaw.