Three years later.
The duplex in South Philly was better than the studio, but not by much.
Seraphina was wiping down the counter. She worked two jobs now—waitress by day, cleaning lady by night.
She checked her watch. June was next door with Mrs. Gable, the elderly neighbor who watched her while Seraphina worked. June's lungs were still weak. The doctors said the smoke inhalation at birth had caused permanent scarring.
The specialist had told her yesterday. "She needs surgery. A tracheal reconstruction. Soon. Or the next infection could be... fatal."
The cost: Fifty thousand dollars. Upfront.
Seraphina had two hundred dollars in a coffee tin.
A knock on the door. Not the frantic knock of a neighbor, but a solid, authoritative rap.
Seraphina froze. She looked through the peephole.
A black Lincoln Town Car was parked at the curb. An elderly man stood on the porch.
Butler grandiose. The head of staff at Silver Sands.
Seraphina opened the door a crack, blocking the view inside. "Mr. Henderson?"
"Ms. Sterling," the butler said. He looked at her faded jeans, her messy bun. His eyes softened with pity. "Mrs. Vanderbilt sent me."
Seraphina's heart raced. "Is she..."
"Madam Victoria is dying," Henderson said. "She has requested your presence. She wants to make peace before the end."
"They threw me out," Seraphina said, her voice hard. "Julian threw me out. I can't go back there."
"Mr. Julian... has become difficult," Henderson admitted. "But Madam insists. She knows your stipend was... interrupted."
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thick envelope.
"Madam sent this. She calls it 'retroactive allowance'. She suspects you have been struggling."
Seraphina took the envelope. It was heavy. She opened it.
Cash. Stacks of hundreds.
She did a quick visual estimate. It was at least fifty thousand. Maybe more.
Exactly enough for June's surgery.
The world tilted. It was a trap. Or a miracle. Or both.
"I can't stay long," Seraphina said, clutching the envelope.
"Just until she passes," Henderson said. "A few days. Maybe a week."
Seraphina thought of June. June was safe with Mrs. Gable for now. If she took June to New York, Julian might see her. He might do the math.
"I have to make arrangements," Seraphina said. "I... I have a cat. I need to tell the neighbor."
"I will wait in the car," Henderson said.
Seraphina closed the door. She ran next door to Mrs. Gable.
"I have to go for a job," Seraphina told the older woman, pressing five hundred dollars from the envelope into her hand. "A big cleaning job in New York. It pays for the surgery. Please, watch her. Don't let her go outside."
"Go, child," Mrs. Gable said, hugging her. "We'll be fine."
Seraphina kissed a sleeping June on the head. "I'll bring you the moon," she whispered.
She got into the black car. She didn't look back.
The drive to New York was a funeral procession for her freedom.
Silver Sands loomed against the grey sky. It looked like a fortress.
She was led to the master bedroom. The smell of lavender and sickness hung in the air.
Victoria Vanderbilt lay in the massive bed, looking like a dried flower. Machines beeped rhythmically.
She opened her eyes. "Seraphina."
"I'm here," Seraphina said, standing stiffly at the foot of the bed.
"You're so thin, child," Victoria whispered.
"I survived," Seraphina said.
"Julian..." Victoria coughed, a wet, rattling sound. "He needs... softening. He has become stone. Promise me... stay. Until I go."
"I can't stay here," Seraphina said.
"Please," Victoria wheezed. She reached out a skeletal hand. "For an old woman's regret. I should have stopped him that night. I knew you didn't do it."
Seraphina felt the cash burning in her bag. The price of June's breath.
"Fine," she said. "I'll stay."
"Good," Victoria closed her eyes. "You'll stay in the main house."
Seraphina was shown to a guest room. It was luxurious. The sheets were Egyptian cotton.
She collapsed on the bed. It felt too soft. It felt like quicksand.
She was back in the lion's den. And the lion was hungry.
