The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed midnight. The estate was dead quiet.
Annabelle carried two mugs of hot cocoa down the dark corridor. Her hands were still slightly unsteady. She knocked softly on Gabriella's bedroom door.
"Come in!" Gabriella called out.
Annabelle pushed the door open. Gabriella was sitting cross-legged on her massive bed, wearing a silk face mask and flipping through a Vogue magazine.
Annabelle handed her a mug and sat on the edge of the mattress. She wrapped both hands around her hot cup, trying to draw heat into her freezing fingers.
"Gabby," Annabelle started, her voice hushed. "Who is the man in the black shirt? The one who was in the conservatory today."
Gabriella froze. She slowly lowered the magazine. Even through the face mask, Annabelle could see the color drain from her friend's cheeks.
"He was playing with a silver lighter," Annabelle added.
Gabriella swallowed hard. She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper, as if the walls were listening. "That's my uncle. Jasper Barrera."
The name hit Annabelle like a physical blow. Jasper Barrera. She had read about him in the financial papers. He was a ruthless corporate raider, a man who dismantled companies for sport.
"He's the head of the family," Gabriella whispered, her eyes wide with genuine fear. "He took over when he was twenty-five. He is... terrifying, Anna. He's a total perfectionist. He controls everything. The businesses, the trusts. He even tries to control who we marry. Davion has been secretly dating a girl for months, and if Jasper finds out before Davion can secure his own trust fund, Jasper will destroy her just to keep the bloodline 'pure'."
Gabriella shivered, rubbing her arms. "When I was ten, I broke a vase in his study. He didn't yell. He just looked at me. I swear, I thought I was going to die. He made me stand in the corner for three hours. He doesn't have a heart, Anna. He's a machine."
Annabelle's stomach twisted into a painful knot. She remembered those icy, dead eyes looking down at her in the greenhouse.
"Whatever you do," Gabriella warned, gripping Annabelle's wrist tightly. "Do not get in his way. Do not make him mad. He can ruin your life with a snap of his fingers."
Annabelle nodded slowly, her throat tight. A massive wave of relief suddenly washed over her, making her dizzy.
Thank God. Thank God her grandfather had arranged her marriage with Davion, the sweet, polite nephew, and not Jasper, the cold-blooded tyrant. If she had been forced to marry a man like Jasper, she would have thrown herself into the East River.
"Thank God it's not him," Annabelle muttered under her breath.
"What?" Gabriella asked.
"Nothing," Annabelle quickly covered up. "Just... why is he here? Does he live here?"
"No, he has a penthouse in the city," Gabriella said, taking a sip of her cocoa. "He only comes to the estate for important family business or to check up on things. He's like a ghost."
They finished their drinks and turned off the main lights. Gabriella fell asleep quickly, her breathing soft and rhythmic.
But Annabelle lay wide awake in the dark. She slipped out of bed and walked back to her own room.
She went to the window and pulled back the heavy curtain. She looked out at the massive structure of the house. On the third floor, a single window was blazing with light. It was Jasper's study. It stared down at the grounds like the unblinking eye of a predator.
A shiver racked Annabelle's body. She yanked the curtains shut, completely blocking out the light.
She crawled into bed and pulled the covers over her head. She made a silent, iron-clad vow. For as long as she stayed in this house, she would become invisible. She would avoid the third floor, she would avoid the conservatory, and she would never, ever speak to Jasper Barrera again.
