Miles hesitated, then swallowed whatever he'd been about to say. "Just be careful tonight at the gala. Ms. Simmons will be there too."

Of course she would. Some people you just can't shake.

"Athena's just being childish. Don't take it to heart."

I'd barely walked back through the door when Benedict's message came through. Whether he was making excuses for Athena or trying to comfort me, I couldn't tell.

I didn't reply. No point picking a fight I couldn't win yet. Athena and I had a running tab, and I intended to collect every last cent.

The stylist unzipped the garment bag the assistant had delivered. Inside was a black evening gown.

"Ms. Summers, let's get you into this first."

I changed into the gown and stood before the mirror.

Elegant. Polished. Every curve in exactly the right place.

The stylist pushed her glasses up her nose. "Ms. Summers, you look stunning."

I smiled, but before I could say a word—

"Oh no!" She pointed, voice rising. "There's a snag in the fishtail!"

I twisted to look. A long, ugly pull ran through the fabric like a scar across a beautiful face.

The stylist grabbed her phone. On the other end, the assistant's voice was tight with frustration. "How is that possible? How does someone make that kind of amateur mistake?"

"I know what happened..." The assistant trailed off, clearly afraid to finish.

"Spit it out." I could hear the hesitation in his voice plain as day.

"The gown... Ms. Simmons asked to see it earlier..."

That said it all. This kind of petty sabotage, and she really thought it would rattle me?

"I'll find something similar in the closet here."

"But Ms. Summers, Mr. Fox said the gowns were off-limits."

"It's fine. I'll explain it to him myself."

I hung up and walked toward the closet.

I pulled open the wardrobe doors. Women's clothes filled every rack, all styles, all sizes, price tags still dangling.

As if someone had bought them in bulk, waiting for the right person to come see them.

My gaze drifted to a jewelry drawer tucked in the corner. I pulled it open gently. In the most prominent spot, a butterfly necklace lay waiting.

I knew this design better than anyone. It was identical to the one I kept pressed against my chest every single day.

Beside it sat a yellowed slip of paper. I recognized the handwriting.

To the best big sister in the world, Cindy. Love, Ben.

Ben. Benedict Fox. Cindy. Cindy Pruitt.