A ghost? A werewolf? A vampire? A demon?

When they reached the second floor, Poppy tried once more to pull away. This time, she shoved Penelope hard enough to knock her off balance.

“Let go of me!” she cried, her voice raw with panic.

Penelope stumbled but caught herself—and came back with a slap that echoed down the long hallway like a whip crack.

Poppy’s cheek burned, her skin stinging where fingers had landed. She tasted blood on her tongue.

Her hands flew to her face, but she wasn’t surprised. She should’ve never come to the party. She wasn’t invited, wasn’t wanted.

Why hadn’t she just turned around and gone home?

“You want to fight?” Penelope hissed, her voice shaking with fury.

She lunged at her again, and this time they both fell to the ground. Poppy fought back with everything she had—scratching, clawing, shoving. Her fingernails raked down Penelope’s cheek, drawing a quick line of blood.

“Stop it!” Poppy gasped. “What is wrong with you?”

“Penelope, dear! Are you okay?” came Laura’s voice, alarmed.

Once she noticed they were distracted, Poppy scrambled to her feet and rushed toward the banister, breath coming in shallow bursts.

Panic was setting in. She could feel it in her chest—the familiar tightness. Her asthma. It was flaring up fast.

She tried to make her way down the stairs toward her room. If she could just get to her inhaler...

She barely made it past the first few steps when something yanked her backward by the hair.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Laura snapped from behind. “Come here, you stupid girl.”

Poppy whimpered but didn’t resist. She’d learned long ago that struggling only made things worse. Laura dragged her back up the stairs by her hair and flung her across the floor to Penelope’s feet.

“Mother, I can’t feel my face,” Penelope cried, still holding the cheek Poppy had scratched.

“It’s okay, darling. I’ll have Mr. Lu patch it up,” Laura said, brushing her daughter’s hair back.

Poppy laid on the floor, her chest heaved, and she was trying to breathe. She focused on counting, slow and steady, like her doctor taught her.

But nothing was helping. The panic and lack of oxygen were drowning her.

She sat up, arms wrapped around herself, eyes wide in fear. “I—I... need... my inhaler...” she choked out.

Laura turned and looked at her. “Are you having a heart attack?”

Poppy shook her head desperately, pointing at her throat. She had no air left to explain.

Laura crouched in front of her, staring into her eyes—but doing nothing. Poppy’s breaths came louder, more ragged.

“Mother, don’t fall for it,” Penelope snapped. “She’s pretending. Trying to get out of seeing Mr. Yan. But we both know she has to do it or the family goes bankrupt.”

Poppy shook her head violently. That wasn’t true. She didn’t even know what they were talking about anymore.

“In... inha—ler,” she gasped.

Laura’s eyes widened. “Go get her inhaler. Now!”

“Ew. I’m not going in there,” Penelope recoiled. She had never been to Poppy's room and she was never going in there.

“She’s going to die!” Laura shrieked.

“I don’t care,” Penelope spat.

“If she dies, you’ll be the one stuck paying Mr. Yan.”

Penelope rolled her eyes, muttered a curse, and stomped off. She came back with Carrie, who held out the inhaler.

“Here,” Carrie said, almost awkwardly.

Poppy snatched it and fumbled it to her lips. She pressed down, breathing in, again and again until the tightness in her chest began to ease.

Her vision stopped spinning, and her hands trembled, but she was stable. For now.

Laura watched her for a few minutes before standing. “She’s fine now. Penny—go on.”

Poppy barely had time to react before Penelope shoved her from behind. The world tilted. She stumbled forward—straight into the guest room.

Before she could turn, the doors slammed shut behind her.

She rushed to them instantly. “Open the door! Penny, please... please open the door!”

No answer. Just silence.

Her heart thundered. She knew this room. It had belonged to her mother once. Her father never installed locks—he wanted access at all times, paranoid she’d been unfaithful.

He’d been obsessed, it made him delusional.

Which meant... this room didn’t lock. Not from the inside, anyway.

But someone was holding the handle.

Poppy slammed her fists against the door. “Penny! What’s going on? Why did you throw me in here?”

No response.

Her fingers traced the edge of the door, trembling. “Please,” she whispered, her tears spilling over. Her gut twisted in dread. This felt wrong. Deeply wrong.

She backed away and felt around in the darkness until she found a lamp. She yanked the plug and gripped it tightly. She didn’t know what was coming, and she didn’t care. But she wasn’t going down without a fight.

She was ready to strike, as she faced the door, if anyone were to come in, she'd just—

CLICK.

The light flicked on.

Poppy blinked hard against the sudden brightness. She was the only one in here... so what could have possibly turned on the lights. A ghost? A werewolf? A vampire? A demon?

She fought the urge to screamed, so she bit down on her lip instead and slowly turned around. But her stomach dropped when she saw the figure across the room.

A man.

Naked.