Chapter 1

The notification popped up on Seraphina Hayes' s phone.

A new post in "The Lions' Den," Julian Thorne' s private group for his closest, wealthiest friends.

Her stomach didn't drop. She felt nothing, or rather, a cold anticipation.

She tapped it.

The video was short, expertly cut. Her, at Julian' s Hamptons party last month.

Glassy eyes, a clumsy stumble near a champagne fountain.

Then a close-up of her face, listening intently as Julian spoke, her expression edited to look utterly smitten, almost stupid.

Laughter, not hers, dubbed over parts.

Comments were already flooding in.

"Thorne, where do you find these charity cases?"

"She looks like she'd lick your shoes if you asked, Julian."

"Is she house-trained?"

Seraphina closed the app. The first sting. Good.

Her phone rang. Julian' s name.

She answered.

"Sera, darling," Julian' s voice was smooth, amused. "Seen my latest masterpiece?"

"Yes, Julian."

"Entertaining, isn't it? The boys are loving it. Now, for an encore. You know that stupid 'Ice Bucket Grovel' challenge that' s going around?"

She knew it. It involved kneeling, dousing oneself with ice water, and making a ridiculous pledge of devotion to someone.

"I want you to do it. For me. Post it publicly. Tag Brynn, tell her how much you admire her impeccable taste in men."

Brynn Holloway. Julian's glamorous, on-again, off-again girlfriend.

"Alright, Julian."

"Good girl. Don't disappoint." He hung up.

Seraphina stood. This was the way.

The Karmic Concord. Her family' s burden, whispered down generations.

A soul-tie, ancient and deep, binding one Hayes per generation to a "catalyst."

Julian was her catalyst.

The tie, she could almost see it. A shimmering thread, nearly invisible, stretching from her core to his.

It choked her spirit, her lineage.

To break it, two paths.

One: genuine, mutual love, a lifetime together, then outlive him, process the grief. Too long. Too uncertain. She didn't love him. He certainly didn't love her.

The other: intense, willingly endured emotional suffering inflicted by the catalyst.

Each humiliation, each act of cruelty she accepted, was a blade against that thread.

Her liberation. Her family' s. This was the only way she knew.

She filled a bucket with ice and water from the small kitchen in her modest apartment.

She set up her phone to record. Knelt on the worn rug.

The ice water hit her. A shock, but distant.

She recited the pledge, words about Julian' s greatness, Brynn' s perfection.

She posted it.

Within minutes, Julian' s circle was alight again.

"She actually did it!"

"Pathetic."

"Julian, you own her soul."

Seraphina focused inward. The thread. Yes. It felt thinner, frayed at the edges. A small, sharp joy, quickly hidden.

Her phone pinged. A message from Julian.

"Impressive. Truly. Now, I need a favor. A real one."

"I left a document," Julian said over the phone later that day, his tone all business now. "Critically important. At a diner. Dusty Trails Diner, somewhere off Route 66 in Arizona. I was there years ago on a road trip."

Seraphina listened. This was new. More direct.

"I need it. Physical copy. Within 24 hours."

"Arizona?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

"Problem?"

"No, Julian. The name of the diner?"

"Dusty Trails. It' s a shithole. You' ll find it. Don' t fail me, Sera. This is important." He hung up.

She looked at her bank account. Meager savings.

She booked the cheapest red-eye flight to Phoenix, then a bus.

A storm was brewing over the Midwest, delaying flights.

She sat in the airport, the hours ticking by. The thread pulsed, a dull ache. This would be a strong cut.

She finally landed, rain lashing down. The bus ride was rough, the old vehicle groaning.

She found the diner. Rundown, neon sign flickering. Two minutes to spare.

The owner, a tired woman, barely remembered Julian but found an old, forgotten envelope with his company logo in a back office drawer after Sera described him.

Seraphina' s hands trembled slightly as she took it. She called Julian.

"I have it."

He laughed. A short, sharp bark. "Oh, that. Don't worry about it. Found a digital copy an hour ago. Much cleaner."

Silence.

"But, good effort, Sera. Really. Shows commitment."

She stood in the dusty diner, rain hammering the roof. The thread. It was definitely weaker.

"I'm at the airport," Julian continued, his voice bright. "Brynn just flew in to meet me. I got her a little something. You know, for being so supportive."

Seraphina waited.

"Hold on, Brynn, darling, look what I picked up for you." Muffled sounds.

Then Brynn's voice, delighted. "Oh, Julian! It's gorgeous! That silk scarf, the blue one? I saw it in Vogue!"

Seraphina remembered the small, expensive scarf Julian had bought last week. He' d said it was a test, to see if she had good taste, and then tossed it in his drawer. He' d implied it was for her, a potential reward.

"She loves it," Julian said, back on the line. "Thanks for the reminder, Sera. You' re useful sometimes."

He hung up.

Seraphina stood very still. The thread. It had frayed, significantly. She felt a wave of lightness, almost dizziness.

It was working.