Chapter 2

"Someone! Security! Get this lunatic out of my house!"

Hannah finally snapped back to reality and let out a shriek that could shatter glass.

Several men in black suits came rushing in.

I didn't recognize a single face. Clearly new hires — brought in after Martha and Hannah took over.

"Throw her out! Now!" Hannah jabbed a finger at me. Her hand was shaking.

I gave the guards one slow, cold look, then reached into my pocket, pulled out a black keycard, and slapped it against the control panel on the wall.

Beep — Highest clearance confirmed. Welcome home, Grace.

The mechanical voice rang through the hall like a verdict.

Every one of the guards froze. They exchanged glances. No one moved.

"The Astor estate security system's highest clearance," I said. "Only my iris and this card can unlock it."

I watched the color drain from Hannah's face as I walked toward her, one step at a time.

"Did you really think swapping out a few guard dogs would make this estate yours?"

"You — you're supposed to be dead!" Hannah screamed, backing against the wall. "Elias told us you died in the explosion!"

Something darkened behind my eyes.

So it was Elias who made it up.

To swallow the Astor family whole without any pushback, he'd told everyone I was dead.

"Where's my mother?" I grabbed Hannah by the throat and shoved her down onto the sofa.

"Let — let go — you're insane—" Hannah clawed at my hand, her manicured nails dragging deep scratches across my skin.

"I'll ask you one more time. Where is she?"

The veins in my hand stood out as I pressed harder.

"The — basement — " Hannah's eyes rolled back. She finally choked out the words.

I shoved her away and ran.

The basement had always been used for wine storage and odds and ends — damp and cold year-round.

The moment I reached the top of the stairs, a sharp, sour stench hit me in the face.

My stomach lurched. I forced the nausea down and pushed open the rusted iron door.

In the dim light, a skeletal woman lay curled up on a shredded mattress in the corner.

She was wearing a thin nightgown. Her hair was a tangled, brittle mess. She clutched a filthy cloth doll against her chest with both arms.

"Mom…"

The tears came before I could stop them. My legs gave out. I sank to my knees on the floor.

Three months ago, my mother was still Mrs. Astor — elegant, composed, a powerhouse who commanded boardrooms without raising her voice.

Now she was locked in this godforsaken place, wasting away like she'd been forgotten by the world.

At the sound of my voice, the woman flinched. She pressed herself further into the corner, shaking.

"Don't hit me… I ate… I ate the food… don't hurt my Grace… don't hurt her…"

She held the doll tighter and mumbled the words over and over, barely coherent.

It felt like something was cutting through my chest. I couldn't breathe.

I moved toward her slowly and pulled her into my arms.

"Mom. It's me. It's Grace. I'm here."

She went still. Her vacant eyes drifted to my face, gradually focusing.

She lifted a thin, trembling hand and touched my cheek.

"Grace? Is it really you? You're not dead?"

"I'm not dead, Mom. I'm okay." I held her hand in both of mine. My tears fell onto her skin.

That's when I saw it. In the corner of the room — a dog bowl.

Inside it, spoiled leftover food. A few flies crawled across the surface.

A loud ringing filled my head, and an unprecedented murderous rage surged straight to my brain.

Martha!Hannah! Elias!

You absolute monsters.

"Grace, run! They're going to hurt you! That soup — there's something in that soup!"

My mother suddenly grabbed my arm with both hands, her nails digging in almost hard enough to break skin.

"What soup?" I latched onto it immediately.

"The herbal tonic Martha keeps giving me… after I drink it my head hurts… I see things that aren't there… they keep saying I've gone crazy…"

She rambled on, her eyes going distant and frightened again.

I drew a slow breath and forced myself to think clearly.

A neurotoxin.

They actually used a scheme this vile — deliberately driving my mother to the brink of madness, framing her as mentally ill, just so they could waltz in and seize control of the Astor family.

I slipped off my coat and draped it over my mother's shoulders, helping her to her feet.

"Mom, don't be scared. I'm getting you out of here. Starting today, no one will ever hurt you again."

I guided her out of the basement. Charles was already waiting outside the door.

"Grace," Charles said, lowering his voice, "I've contacted the private medical team you arranged. The car is at the back entrance."

"Good. Charles, go with her. Get her settled in the safe house and run a full toxicology screening."

I pressed a card into his hand.

"And you, Grace?" Charles looked at me, worry etched across his face.

I turned back toward the main house, blazing with light, and let a cold, razor-edged smile cross my lips.

"Me? I'm staying. I have a wedding to attend — one that was so thoughtfully prepared in my honor."