--- Blackwood Mansion – Two Days After the Party Eleanor stirred honey into her tea with economical poise, shoulders squared, face a mask. In the back, Mr. Blackwood's guests lingered in the hall, and in the subdued clinking of glasses during dinner afterwards. The house was a museum of overwrought silence — where all was spotless, but electricity lingered in the air. For Nathaniel had started to ask questions. Because Harrison was a disaster. Because the numbers weren't adding up. Because Leya wasn't cracking as they'd hoped. And at the bottom line of pressure somewhere, Eleanor realized: > The heat was coming her way. She hadn't expected Leya to speak. Hadn't expected Leya to stand in the ballroom like a half-guilt, blackened spectre and say "I embezzled only $50,000." She hadn't expected anyone likely to remember the figures. But Nathaniel's head was a safe. And safes, Eleanor remembered, were opened before they exploded to kingdom come. So now, she'd push blame aside
---Leya's Room – After PartyThe applause was done.The music had stopped.The guests had departed.But the shame remained.Leya crouched up in a heap on the bed floor, knees drawn up against her body. The sleeve of the beautiful silk gown was torn, and the white line of the soup burn was visible, and there was a scratch from a needle on the shoulder where a ring had scraped her in the fight. The cut was not deep.But shame?> Had cut deeper than flesh.She hadn't cried.Not yet.The tears had been present — patiently, hurting — but she'd learned how to keep hurt bridled and harnessed. So she fixed her attention on the bandage Clara'd left behind instead. Clean. Still folded.She hadn't even managed to put it on.She could still hear them laughing. How Harrison tore her name to shreds in public. The shriek of that video freezing on her face. The susurrus of someone — Vivian? Eleanor? — calling her a "gold-digger" behind a fan.What had sounded out most clearly, though?> "There was $
(Vivian POV – Longer Chapter)---Blackwood Mansion – Morning After the ScandalSunroom stood, with wilted hydrangeas already covered in thanks to the staff. She did not even notice petals. Heat. Smoky linen aroma on hallway rugs from last night's debacle.Sitting thinking.Knees together, fists clenched in her lap. One knee was folded over the other. A spoon rang against scalding tea she had no plans on drinking.Because something was amiss.And she never erred.---Last Night – Her Memory, Played Back with CareShe'd endured Leya performing before strangers, rattling shoulders, nearly bare, accused, taunted.She'd done nothing.Not because she approved — but because the play was rehearsed.A distraction.A test.But Harrison fumed and the screen flickered the video, which Vivian had witnessed — one that most of them had not.The math.Leya had admitted to having taken $50,000.But Harrison was adamant that $70,000 had been taken.And Vivian knew her son.Knew how much he liked being
(Eleanor and Leya POVs, alternating)---Part I: EleanorSomewhere Between Dread and DelightBlackwood Mansion – 3:10 A.M.Blackwood Mansion stood quiet.Partygoers departed, glasses put away, and insane laughter still echoed, lingering like the smell of a rave.Eleanor did not sleep.She sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor beside her bed, velvet pajamas, curled fingers on the tip of her thumbnail until blue.Leya's flashback — blushing, trembling, in the buff — was still on autopilot replay in her mind. Not with compassion. Not exactly.It was guilt.No.> It was fear.Because Eleanor had realized she'd pilfered that extra $20,000.She'd rewound the camera. Spent the minutes slipping by. Covered her tracks.No one would ever suspect her.Unless Leya totted it all up.Unless Nathaniel….Her stomach knotted.Nathaniel had glanced at her — for a moment — before Harrison shoved him. Not upset. Simply. Calculating.As though he were solving an equation.As though something wasn't addin
Blackwood Mansion – The Ballroom, 10:42 PM---There were things a woman did not forget.Not the caress of wind.Not the hue on walls.Not the mention of her name on the lips of one who despised her.And this—this was one of them.---"Tell them!" Harrison's voice tore across the room, clashing against marble and candelabras like a slap in the face.Leya winced.Not at the count.From the poison.Middle of the ballroom, chest heaving and thrashing like an animal trapped in a cage for too, too long. One hand on a whiskey glass, the other stretched out in front of her as if she were nothing more than a stain that couldn't scrub from his name.Dozens of eyes reflected her back at herself in a mirror.Leering.Judging.Wishing she would snap.I said it to you," Leya breathed, the words shaking beneath the impact of her own guilt, "I borrowed money for my brother. I stole not. I begged—for his life—""Don't play heroine," Harrison growled, taking a step closer to her. "You are no saint. Y
---Blackwood Mansion – NightfallImperiously, it had begun in footsteps.Heavy. Staccato. Enraged.They crashed downstairs and echoed off marble corridors like a gathering storm. Then—> "LEYA!"The scream ripped at the stillness like a lash.She sprang out of bed in fright.In a nightgown alone. Her neck elongated. Her wrist was still wrapped in strips of linen.A shout again.> "Get out here! Now!"She had not gotten out of bed until the door opened.Harrison.Red-eyed, gasping. Fury twisted every muscle in him."What—what is it?" she bellowed, voice thick with sleep.He did not answer. He had not needed to.There were two guards in the corridor outside."Come down.""I don't want to, Harrison, please—"He did not come to pull her down. He had not needed to. His voice brought her down more forcibly than arms."Play stupid, eh?" he snarled, baring teeth. "Let's play it out to the end where everyone can witness it."---Blackwood Ballroom – A Few Minutes LaterLeya was inside.Barefo