meeting. Three days of suffocating s

glowing in the dim light. A woman's face stared back at her

en manifesting, Frances?" the therapi

"I still have trouble sleepin

sessions were a shield, a way to explain away her strange behav

er. Phoebe peeked her head in. "Ma'am,

e screen. "We'll have to continue this next week,

lling up to the front entrance. Baron stepped out, his f

he long table, Frances at the other end. The distance between them fe

es. They discussed the weather, a recent business deal, anything

might as well have been cardboard. But she didn't complain. She didn't

the fire. Herta stood silently by the fireplace, her eyes mis

eard. "Frances's condition is quite worrying," he said to Estela. "Her behavior

the doorway. She stopped

dripping with false concern. "The doctor says this

as laying the groundwork to have her committed, to mak

he shot Frances a look of pure sympathy. But a sharp glar

ked up the grand staircase, her back straight, her steps mea

study adjacent to her bedroom, reviewing

ossed over his chest. He watched her with a pre

oice low and condescending. "More money? Or

. The needy wife. The jealous woman. It w

thing her robe. "I don't want anything, Baron," she

e passed, his hand shot out. His fingers clamped around

snarled, his face inches from

ace. There was no fear in her eyes. No love. No hate.

barely a whisper. "Remember? You said it yo

ith a sudden, sharp movement. She didn't

clenched. The familiar script had been torn up. He d

ass of warm milk and set it on the nightstand. "Ma'am," she said h

her. "Phoebe, sympathy is a weap

. The woman standing before her was not the same fragile girl who had ma

the pale skin, the dark circles under her eyes. The war was just begin

e sender hidden behind a string of encrypted numbers

er mind racing. If Baron wanted to play dirty,