Sera had just shoved the lead-lined compartment of her canvas bag closed when a soft, overly delicate knock sounded at the door.
She stood up, her face instantly smoothing into a mask of blank indifference. She walked over and twisted the brass lock, pulling the heavy oak door open.
Blythe stood in the hallway. She wore a pristine, powder-blue couture dress that hugged her perfectly. Her face was painted with a sickeningly sweet smile.
"Sera!" Blythe gasped, throwing her arms open wide. She lunged forward, aiming for a dramatic, sisterly embrace. "Welcome home!"
Sera didn't blink. She simply took a half-step backward, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her hoodie.
Blythe stumbled forward, her arms wrapping around empty air. She caught her balance, her smile freezing on her face. For a fraction of a second, pure, venomous hatred flashed in Blythe's eyes. But she quickly blinked it away, replacing it with a look of wounded innocence.
"Oh," Blythe murmured, her lower lip trembling slightly.
Footsteps clicked sharply against the hardwood floor. Evelyn Hayes strode down the hallway, holding a crystal glass of red wine. She stopped next to her daughter, looking Sera up and down with absolute disgust.
"Don't touch her, Blythe," Evelyn sneered, her nose wrinkling. "Can't you smell that? Her cheap clothes reek of country dirt. It's nauseating."
Blythe gently placed a hand on her mother's arm, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Mom, please don't be so harsh. It's her first day back."
Sera leaned her shoulder against the doorframe. She watched the two of them perform their pathetic little play. Her stomach churned with revulsion.
"The smell of dirt," Sera said, her voice cutting through the air like a razor, "is a lot better than the stench of rotting hypocrisy you two are sweating out."
Evelyn's face turned a mottled, furious red.
She slammed her wine glass down onto a small decorative side table. The dark red liquid sloshed over the rim, staining the expensive cream-colored runner.
Evelyn marched forward, jabbing her manicured index finger inches from Sera's nose.
"Listen to me, you little brat," Evelyn hissed, her breath smelling of alcohol. "You better remember your place. You are nothing but a scapegoat. When you get to the Montgomery house, you keep your mouth shut."
Sera's eyes went dead.
Her left hand shot out of her pocket. She slapped Evelyn's pointing finger away with a brutal, stinging force.
"Ah!" Evelyn shrieked, clutching her hand. The impact sent a shockwave of pain up her arm. She stumbled backward, her heels catching on the carpet.
Sera stepped out of the doorway, closing the distance between them. Her presence was suddenly massive, suffocating.
"If you ever point your finger at my face again," Sera said, her voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly whisper, "I promise you, it will stay on the floor."
Blythe's face drained of color. She grabbed her mother's arm, staring at Sera as if a monster had just crawled out of the guest room. The country bumpkin wasn't supposed to fight back.
Sera stepped back into her room. She grabbed the heavy oak door and slammed it shut right in their faces. The loud bang echoed down the hallway.
Through the thick wood, Sera could hear Evelyn's furious, breathless cursing and the sharp clatter of their heels retreating down the hall.
Sera walked back to the bed. Her heart rate was perfectly steady. She pulled her laptop out from the lead-lined compartment of her bag and grabbed a pair of black, noise-canceling headphones. She slipped them over her ears, instantly drowning out the world.
Her fingers hit the keyboard.
She launched a dark web routing protocol, bouncing her IP address through a dozen different countries before aiming it straight at the internal network of River City's top private hospital.
The hospital's million-dollar firewall shattered under her code like brittle glass.
Within seconds, Sera pulled up Alaric Montgomery's highly classified medical files.
Complex blood analysis charts flooded her screen. Sera leaned closer, her eyes scanning the data. Her medical instincts, honed by years of saving lives on the brink of death, flared to life. She locked onto several abnormal toxin markers.
Her brow furrowed.
This wasn't a terminal illness. This wasn't cancer or organ failure.
It was a neurotoxic cold poison. Extremely rare. Extremely lethal if untreated.
Sera's fingers flew across the trackpad, pulling up Alaric's prescription history and treatment logs for the past three years. She read through the list of astronomically expensive medications.
A harsh scoff escaped her lips.
"Idiots," Sera muttered to herself. "These quacks are just accelerating his death."
She highlighted the files, encrypted them, and initiated a secure transfer to her private, untraceable server overseas.
But she wasn't done. She ran a secondary search, digging into the digital archives for the marriage contract between the Hayes and Montgomery families.
The document appeared on her screen. The terms were barbaric, essentially binding the bride to Alaric as a lifelong sacrifice to ward off bad luck.
Sera scrolled to the final page, looking at the signatures.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her lungs suddenly felt tight, as if the oxygen had been sucked from the room.
There, next to the guarantor's signature line, was a digital scan of a wax seal. It was the unique, intricate crest of her deceased mother's family-Lillian Kensington.
Sera's finger froze on the trackpad.
Matilda hadn't just picked Sera out of a hat to save Blythe. This marriage was tied to a contract her mother had been involved in before she died.
Sera's eyes turned to ice. The temperature in her blood plummeted.
She was going to marry Alaric Montgomery. And she was going to tear down both of these families to find out why her mother's seal was on that paper.
