The Maybach slowed as it approached the towering wrought-iron gates of the Rogers estate. The gates were wide open. Dozens of photographers and social media journalists lined the driveway, their camera flashes exploding in the dark winter night.
Amanda looked down at her phone. The number 98 stared back at her from the notes app. She took a slow, shallow breath to keep her stomach from cramping. She switched to her text messages and opened her thread with Julio.
She typed the number 99. She did not add any words. She hit send.
A second later, Julio's phone buzzed on the leather seat between them. He picked it up and glanced at the screen. He let out a harsh, dismissive scoff.
"Are you losing your mind?" Julio asked. He tossed the phone back onto the seat. "What is this psycho number game you are playing?"
Amanda locked her screen and slipped the phone into her coat pocket. She did not look at him. She stared straight ahead at the approaching mansion. Her silence made Julio shift uncomfortably in his seat. He tugged at his tie again.
The car glided to a stop at the end of a long red carpet. A valet in a crisp uniform rushed forward and pulled Julio's door open. The freezing wind rushed into the heated cabin, carrying the loud, chaotic shouts of the photographers.
Julio stepped out first. The irritation vanished from his face instantly. He smiled, waved at the cameras, and buttoned his suit jacket with practiced elegance.
Amanda pressed her hand against her stomach. The pain was a dull, constant throb now. She smoothed the front of her coat and stepped out of the car. Her high heels clicked against the pavement. For a fraction of a second, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She glanced toward the dark line of tall hedges bordering the driveway. A tall, broad-shouldered silhouette stood perfectly still in the shadows, watching her. But before she could focus, the flashes hit her eyes like physical blows. She raised her hand instinctively to shield her face from the blinding light.
Julio stepped up beside her. He wrapped his arm around her waist. His fingers dug into her side, pulling her hard against his hip. The sudden, violent jerk made Amanda's stomach roll. Acid burned the back of her throat. She clamped her jaw shut to keep from throwing up on the red carpet.
She tried to pull away, shifting her weight to the side. Julio's fingers tightened like a vice grip through her coat.
"Smile," Julio whispered through his teeth, keeping his face turned toward the cameras. "Do not embarrass me."
Amanda forced the corners of her mouth up. Her facial muscles felt like stiff plastic. She let him drag her down the carpet like a prop.
They reached the massive oak doors of the estate. The heat of the foyer hit them instantly. The air was thick with the smell of expensive champagne, roasted meats, and heavy perfumes. Amanda felt her chest tighten. She could not pull enough oxygen into her lungs.
Rosa, the head housekeeper, stepped forward. She took Julio's coat, then reached for Amanda's. Rosa's eyes flicked to Amanda's pale face. A brief look of pity crossed the older woman's features before she looked away.
Amanda let the coat slide off her shoulders. She was wearing a simple, sharp black evening gown. It was severe and uninviting, a stark contrast to the bright, sparkling dresses of the other women in the room.
Julio guided her into the main ballroom. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. A string quartet played in the corner.
Amanda scanned the room. She recognized the faces. The heirs to the biggest real estate empires in New York. The youngest partners at top law firms. The most eligible bachelors in the city.
In the center of the room, Meredith and Harrison were standing with Billie. Billie was wearing a custom white gown that looked suspiciously like a wedding dress. Meredith was introducing Billie to the heir of a shipping conglomerate, laughing loudly and touching the young man's arm.
The reality hit Amanda like a physical punch to the gut. This was not a birthday party. This was a high-stakes auction. Her parents were parading their adopted daughter in front of the city's elite, trying to secure a massive alliance. And they had forced Amanda to come here, sick and bleeding, just to stand in the background and make Billie look better.
Julio saw the crowd of bachelors. He muttered a curse under his breath. He hated when the Rogers family flaunted their ambition so openly.
Three men in dark suits walked over to them, holding crystal glasses. They were Julio's investors. They greeted Julio loudly and completely ignored Amanda.
Julio immediately dropped his hand from Amanda's waist. He stepped forward, laughing at a joke one of the men made, leaving Amanda standing alone behind him.
Amanda stepped backward, letting the crowd swallow Julio. She walked to the edge of the room, near a long buffet table. She picked up a glass of room-temperature water and took a sip. The water coated her dry throat.
She looked back toward the center of the room. Billie was smiling, soaking up the attention. Amanda's eyes narrowed with disgust.
Then, a flash of champagne-colored silk caught her eye.
Near the arched doorway leading to the west wing, a woman was walking quickly. She kept her head down. Amanda recognized the slope of her shoulders and the cheap, heavy way her hair was curled. It was Seraphina.
Amanda set her water glass down on the table. The glass hit the wood with a sharp clack. She did not hesitate. She picked up the heavy skirt of her black gown and walked toward the archway, her eyes locked on the champagne silk.
