Morning comes fast.
I'm out the door before Grandma and Sofia even get back from the market.
It's a bright, too-perfect day for a party.
One of those days that almost dares you to be in a bad mood.
Lydia's car is parked in the driveway, engine running.
She leans over and pushes the passenger door open when she sees me.
"Hi, Laura. How are you? You look good, dear."
"Hi, Lydia. Thanks. I'm good. And you?"
"Oh, I'm surviving," she says with a tired laugh. "Your grandmother—she's still out?"
"Yeah. She left early with Sofia."
"Good. Then let's get going. We've got a mountain of work today. Thank you again for helping."
"It's fine. I´m glad to help."
We drive for nearly twenty minutes before the houses start getting bigger…and then ridiculously bigger.
When we finally pull up to the address, my jaw just about hits my knees.
The place is huge. Like movie-star huge.
A sprawling mansion sits in the middle of acres of perfectly trimmed lawn.
"Wow," I breathe. "People actually live here?"
"Who knows," Lydia says, climbing out. "Rich folks collect relatives like stamp collections. Could be thirty of them."
The catering vans are already parked, crews unloading trays of food, silverware, boxes of drinks, everything.
"This your first time doing a party here?" I ask.
"It is. I heard it's the first one the family's ever hosted. Sophia and the other girls should be around somewhere."
"It's beautiful," I admit, staring at the mansion.
"Beautiful and expensive," Lydia says. "Come on. We're behind."
The backyard looks like someone cloned the set of a wedding: rows and rows of tables, mountains of flowers, strings of lights hanging from trees.
"Susan?" Lydia calls. A blonde girl in a server's uniform turns around.
"Susan, what are you doing here? I told your sister I already found someone."
"I know," she says, smiling. "But I got someone else to cover my shift at the café. Figured I'd help anyway."
"Well, another pair of hands never hurts." Lydia softens. "How's your sister's ankle?"
"She'll be dancing again in a week." Susan's grin turns toward me. "Hi."
"Nice to meet you," I say.
"Laura, go get changed," Lydia says, shooing me toward the makeshift changing area.
I'm halfway through fixing my hair, still in my regular clothes, when a woman who looks like she walked straight out of a designer magazine glides toward me.
She's in a pale-blue dress, a round hat, huge white sunglasses—like she's allergic to sunlight and common people.
Before I can react, she thrusts her coat and gloves into my hands.
"Take these to the maid inside," she says.
"Uh—"
She's already turning away.
"Thank you, and be careful," she calls over her shoulder. "That coat is worth more than your monthly paycheck."
She smiles, winks, and disappears into the garden.
I don't even work for you, lady.
"Yes, ma'am," I mutter under my breath.
We're not even supposed to go inside, but I'm not walking around carrying her coat like a lost child.
I circle around to the back door and knock.
Nothing.
I find another door—this one leads straight into an empty living room.
"Hello?" I call.
Silence.
The kitchen is empty too. I move deeper into the mansion, coat cradled like some delicate baby swan, and end up in a hallway lined with massive paintings.
One of them is a Picasso. My dad used to talk about Picasso like the guy was a rock star.
"Hello?" I try again.
Nothing.
Fine. I'll just drop the coat somewhere safe and go back out.
I'm turning to leave when the front door slams open.
"You are a disgrace!" a man roars.
I jump, racing up the stairs on instinct and pressing myself against the wall.
I should not be here.
Voices echo below. I inch forward just enough to peek.
A middle-aged man stands rigid with fury, glaring at a boy—no, not a boy.
Jae.
"I am ashamed of you," the man spits. "If you don't show up to the party, I'll send you to Alaska with no return ticket. Do you hear me?"
Jae doesn't move.
Then, in that calm, dangerous tone he says, "And what, exactly, am I going to the party for? To watch you drink... and kill someone?"
The man spins around, face turning a violent red. "You ungrateful little brat! Shut that filthy mouth!"
He backhands Jae across the cheek.
I cover my mouth, trying not to make a sound.
Jae doesn't stagger. His fists are tight, jaw set, every fiber of him on edge.
He turns his head and looks back at his father. He doesn't move otherwise. He just glares, radiating controlled danger.
The man smirks, satisfied. "Didn't think so."
Then he storms out of the house.
Jae stays frozen for a moment. Breathing sharp. Shoulders tight.
Then he turns toward the stairs.
Oh no.
I spin and slip into the nearest room, closing the door as quietly as I can.
My heartbeat is basically punching me from the inside.
I wait, listening.
Nothing.
Slowly, I turn around—and notice a picture frame on the desk. A woman hugging a small, smiling boy.
He looks about Sofia's age.
My stomach sinks.
I step closer.
It's Jae.
My gaze darts around the room.
Did I seriously end up in his room?
My stomach flips.
"How did I even—" I whisper, but the words die in my throat.
Footsteps.
Sharp ones. Coming up the stairs.
My blood freezes.
No, no, no—he can't be coming here. Not now.
Not with his face probably still red from being slapped.
Not with me standing in the middle of his room holding a coat that isn't even mine.
The footsteps stop right outside the door.
I back up, pressing myself against the wall, gripping the coat like it might shield me from him.
The doorknob turns.
Oh God. He's coming in.
Shit.
***
JAE
I was a second away from punching the bastard.
It took everything in me not to swing.
My hands were shaking, jaw locked so tight it hurt.
God, I hate him.
I hate this house. I hate everything in it.
I shove open my bedroom door, ready to slam it behind me— and stop dead.
Someone's inside.
Not someone.
Her.
For a second I actually wonder if I'm hallucinating.
I'm so pissed, I half-believe my brain snapped and made her up.
But she's real.
Standing in the middle of my room like she belongs here.
What the hell?
She shouldn't be here. She can't be here. This isn't happening.
"You're bleeding," she says softly.
I can't even answer. The words don't form. My mind's still trying to connect the dots.
She takes a step toward me. I raise a hand—stop.
"What the hell are you doing here?" My voice comes out louder than I meant, but I can't control it.
"I—I'm sorry. I was already leaving. I just came to help with the party."
My eyes drop to what she's holding. A coat. Her coat. My father's wife's coat.
My chest tightens. Hard. Just like earlier. Just like when his hand cracked across my face.
"Why do you have her coat?"
My voice is sharp, harsher than I intend, but I don't care.
All of this is wrong.
She's not supposed to be in this house.
She's not supposed to see any of this.
She looks down at the coat, then back up at me fast.
"I'm not stealing!" she blurts. "I was supposed to give it to the maid, but no one was inside, and then your father—"
She shuts up. Completely.
My stomach drops.
"You heard everything," I say.
It's not even a question.
She nods. Barely.
I take a step back, trying to breathe, trying not to fall apart in front of her. Not her. Not now.
"I won't tell anyone," she says quickly. "I promise."
"I should go," she whispers, already moving, but I grab her arm before she reaches the door.
It's not rough, but she still flinches.
I wipe the blood from my lip with my free hand.
"Leave the coat," I say.
"What? No, I—"
I take it from her, drop it on the floor without looking, and pull her out of the room.
"Hey! What are you doing?" she snaps, but I don't slow down. I can't. If I think for even a second, I'll fall apart.
She yells, "Let go of me!"
But I'm already dragging her down the stairs, through the hallway, out of that poisonous air.
We reach the garage. I yank open the passenger door of the Land Cruiser.
"Get in," I tell her.
"No." She stands her ground, voice steady but shaking around the edges. "If you don't want me in your house, I'll leave. But I'm not letting you throw me out like this."
Her eyes shine. She's holding back tears.
And it hits me like a knife.
She hates me.
Good.
I earned it.
But it still guts me.
I inhale sharply, trying to get my shit together, but everything inside me is spiraling.
My vision blurs. I blink hard.
She notices. Her face softens. Damn it.
I swallow hard.
My voice almost cracks when I say, "I'm trying to get you out of here. I just—I need to get you and me away from this place. Now."
Away from him.
Away from everything that could destroy her.
She looks at me, quiet now.
"Please."
The word shakes out of me before I can stop it.
That does it. She gets in.
I close the door carefully—like she's made of glass.
Before I start the engine, I grip the steering wheel with both hands, head down, forcing myself to breathe. In. Out.
Don't lose it.
Not in front of her.
When I finally feel my pulse settle, I turn the key.
At least she's safe now.
I drive out of the estate without looking back.