The invitation was for a charity auction at the Kensington Gallery. Sienna didn't want to go, but Julian insisted. He said hiding away would only fuel the rumors that she was institutionalized.
She wore black. It felt appropriate.
The gallery was crowded. Waiters circulated with champagne flutes that Sienna wasn't allowed to touch. She stood by a pillar, her weight shifted to her right leg, watching the socialites of Manhattan pretend to care about abstract art.
"Well, if it isn't the Broken Swan."
The voice was sharp, dripping with faux sweetness. Sienna turned to see Eleanor Sterling, Julian's mother. She was a woman made of pearls and malice, holding a martini like a weapon.
"Hello, Eleanor," Sienna said, keeping her face neutral.
"You look pale," Eleanor critiqued, scanning Sienna up and down. "Julian tells me you're having... episodes again. It must be exhausting for him. He works so hard, and then he has to come home to a nursemaid's job."
"Julian is a wonderful husband," Sienna recited the script.
"He is a saint," Eleanor corrected. "Do try not to embarrass him tonight. The Board is voting on the new Chairman next month."
Eleanor drifted away, leaving the scent of expensive gin in her wake. Sienna felt the familiar tightness in her chest-the panic rising. She needed air.
She limped toward the back of the gallery, looking for a restroom or a quiet corner. She turned down a corridor that led to the private offices.
The door to the main office was slightly ajar. Sienna heard a laugh. It was a low, throaty laugh she recognized. Sophia.
She froze. She shouldn't look. Julian told her that her jealousy was a symptom of her illness. But her feet didn't move.
Through the crack in the door, she saw a sliver of the room. Julian was leaning against a mahogany desk. Sophia Thorne was standing in front of him, wearing a red dress that looked like a splash of blood. She was close. Too close.
Sophia reached out and straightened Julian's tie. Her hand lingered on his chest.
"She's never going to recover, is she?" Sophia asked.
"Patience," Julian said. His voice was different-colder, sharper than the one he used with Sienna. "The timeline is delicate."
"I'm tired of waiting in the wings, Julian."
"You'll get your spotlight, Sophia. Just keep playing the part."
Sienna gasped. The sound was involuntary, a sharp intake of breath.
Julian's head snapped toward the door.
Sienna spun around, ignoring the scream of pain from her ankle, and hobbled back down the hallway as fast as she could. Her heart was beating so hard it hurt her ears. The timeline. Playing the part.
She emerged back into the crowded gallery, breathless and sweating.
"Sienna?"
Julian was suddenly there, standing in front of her. He was holding two glasses of sparkling water. He looked calm. Perfectly composed.
"I... I saw you," Sienna panted. "In the office. With Sophia."
Julian frowned. "Sophia? Sienna, Sophia isn't even here tonight. She's performing at the Lincoln Center. It's Tuesday, darling. You know the company schedule."
Sienna stared at him. "No. I saw her. Red dress. You were talking about a timeline."
Julian sighed, a sound of infinite weariness. He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. He held it up to her face.
It was a live feed from the Lincoln Center backstage. On the tiny screen, Sophia Thorne was warming up in a white tutu. Live.
"See?" Julian said gently. "You're hallucinating again, my love. It was just a shadow. Or maybe you saw a painting and your mind played a trick. You've been confused about the days lately."
Sienna looked at the phone. Then she looked at the corridor. It was empty. Was it Tuesday? She thought it was Thursday. The days were bleeding together into a grey soup of medication and naps.
The room began to spin. The floor tilted.
"I... I need to go home," she whispered.
"Of course," Julian said, putting his arm around her waist to support her weight. "I'll take you home. I'll increase the night dose. You need sleep."
As he guided her out, Sienna looked back one last time. Near the exit, a woman in a red dress was slipping out the side door. She had dark hair.
It wasn't Sophia. It was just a stranger.
I am going crazy, Sienna thought, terror gripping her throat. I am actually losing my mind.
