Elena pressed her index finger against the cardboard.
The Tower.
The heavy oak table vibrated, a low hum that rattled the crystal ashtray.
Sloane stopped breathing.
The screen of Sloane's phone lit up on the table. The GPS tracking dot blinked red. It aligned perfectly with the invisible rune Elena had just traced on the wood.
Sloane's hands started to shake.
Elena picked up her martini glass. She took a slow sip. The cold liquid burned down her throat, masking the brief flash of golden light that flickered in her dark eyes.
"Go," Elena said.
Sloane snatched her Birkin bag from the chair. Her heels slammed against the hardwood floor, a rapid, violent rhythm that echoed her rage.
Elena set her glass down and followed.
The brass doors of The Obsidian club were heavy. The bass from the music inside hit Elena's chest the second they pulled them open.
The club manager stepped in front of them. He opened his mouth to ask for a reservation.
Sloane shoved a black American Express card directly into his chest.
The manager's annoyed expression vanished. He plastered on a fake smile and stepped aside.
They walked down the dark corridor. Neon laser lights sliced through the smoke, flashing across Elena's pale face. She hated this place. The air smelled like cheap sweat and expensive mistakes.
Sloane ran. She didn't care about the music or the crowd. She headed straight for the VIP section.
Elena walked behind her, her pace steady.
Sloane hit the door of room V03 with both hands. It crashed open. A woman screamed inside. Sloane lunged forward, her hands flying toward her cheating fiancé.
Elena stopped in the hallway.
She didn't go in. A different scent cut through the smell of alcohol and smoke.
Cedar and bergamot.
Andrew's cologne.
Elena's stomach tightened. The muscles in her abdomen contracted so hard it hurt.
She turned her head. At the end of the corridor was a semi-open terrace. The night wind blew in, catching the bottom of her cheap beige trench coat.
She walked toward the wind.
Heavy velvet curtains separated the terrace from the hallway. They were drawn almost completely shut, leaving only a narrow gap.
Elena looked through the gap.
A tall man stood by the railing. Andrew. Her husband.
His arm was wrapped around a woman's waist. The woman was small. Fragile. She leaned her entire body weight against his chest.
A sharp pain flared in Elena's chest, stealing the air from her lungs.
The woman turned her head.
Kaitlynn.
Elena's fingers gripped her small clutch. She squeezed the leather until her knuckles turned completely white. The joints ached.
Kaitlynn looked up at Andrew. Tears spilled over her eyelashes and rolled down her cheeks. She cried about how lonely she was during her art therapy trip in Europe.
Andrew reached into his pocket. He pulled out a silk handkerchief and wiped her tears. His touch was gentle.
Elena moved her foot. She wanted to speak.
"I'll fix it," Andrew said.
His voice was low. Elena froze. Her breathing sped up, the cold air scraping her throat.
Kaitlynn sniffled. "I don't want to ruin your marriage, Andrew. I feel so guilty."
Andrew let out a harsh laugh.
"She's an Appalachian hillbilly, Kaitlynn. She doesn't belong here."
The words hit Elena like a physical blow to the stomach. Bile rose in her throat.
"I only married her to get my grandfather off my back," Andrew continued.
Kaitlynn buried her face in his shirt. Elena saw the corner of Kaitlynn's mouth twitch upward into a smirk.
Elena's fingernails dug into the palms of her hands. The sharp sting of her own skin breaking grounded her. Two years of cooking his meals, ironing his shirts, and swallowing the insults of his friends.
It was all a joke.
"The lawyers are drafting the divorce papers," Andrew promised, his hand stroking Kaitlynn's hair. "Next week, she'll be out of New York for good."
Kaitlynn threw her arms around his neck. She pressed her body flush against his.
Elena felt nauseous. Her throat closed up.
She closed her eyes. She forced air into her lungs. One breath. Two breaths.
When she opened her eyes, the pain was gone. Only ice remained.
The wind picked up. The heavy velvet curtain flapped loudly against the wall.
Andrew's head snapped toward the gap.
Elena didn't hide. She reached out and grabbed the thick velvet fabric. She ripped the curtain open.
The dim light from the hallway hit her face. She stood there, completely expressionless.
Andrew dropped his arm. Panic flashed in his eyes for a fraction of a second. Then, his jaw clenched, and the panic morphed into deep annoyance.
Kaitlynn gasped. She shrank behind Andrew, her hands gripping the fabric of his suit jacket like a terrified child. But her eyes, staring at Elena from behind his shoulder, were full of defiance.
Andrew adjusted his cuffs. He glared at Elena.
"What are you doing here?" he snapped. "Are you stalking me?"
Elena let out a short, cold laugh.
She looked at his hands, then at Kaitlynn's clinging fingers.
"If you two are going to cheat," Elena said, her voice flat and loud enough to cut through the wind, "you could at least pick a place that doesn't smell like a public restroom."
Andrew's face turned red.
He dropped Kaitlynn's hand and took a heavy step forward. His large frame blocked the light, casting a dark shadow over Elena.
Elena didn't move a single inch. She kept her chin up. Her eyes dragged up and down his body, looking at him the way someone looks at a piece of trash on the sidewalk.
Kaitlynn pulled on the hem of Andrew's jacket.
"Andrew, please," Kaitlynn whimpered, her voice trembling. "Don't fight with your wife because of me. It's my fault."
Andrew reached back and grabbed Kaitlynn's hand, squeezing it to comfort her. He turned his glare back to Elena.
"Did you hire a private investigator?" Andrew demanded. His voice was loud, echoing off the brick walls of the terrace. "Are you out of your mind?"
Elena found the accusation hilarious. A cold smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth.
"I don't need a private investigator, Andrew," Elena said. "That cheap perfume she's wearing reeks from three blocks away."
Kaitlynn's body stiffened. Her fake tears stopped. It was a limited-edition fragrance.
Andrew stepped closer. The veins in his neck popped.
"Go back to the country house, Elena," he ordered. "Stop embarrassing yourself in public."
Elena opened her clutch. She pulled out a wet wipe. She slowly, deliberately wiped the fingers that had just touched the velvet curtain. She wiped them as if she had touched a dead rat.
Andrew saw the gesture. His pride shattered.
He lunged forward and reached for her wrist.
Elena shifted her weight. She turned her shoulder, and Andrew's hand grabbed empty air. He stumbled forward, his expensive leather shoes slipping slightly on the concrete.
Kaitlynn let out a high-pitched gasp. She rushed forward and grabbed Andrew's arm, pressing her chest against his bicep to steady him.
Elena threw the used wet wipe into a nearby trash can.
"Since you're in such a rush to make room for your little saint," Elena said, her voice devoid of any emotion, "I'll make it easy for you."
Andrew froze. He stood up straight. He expected her to cry. He expected her to beg him to stay.
He let out a mocking scoff.
"Is this your new strategy?" Andrew sneered. "Playing hard to get so you can squeeze more alimony out of me?"
Elena's eyes darkened. She took one step forward.
The sudden shift in her energy was physical. The air around her seemed to drop ten degrees. Andrew actually took a half-step backward before he realized what he was doing.
"Tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock," Elena said, her words sharp as broken glass. "Tell your lawyer to bring the papers to me."
Kaitlynn's eyes widened with pure joy, but she quickly covered her mouth with her hand, pretending to be shocked.
Andrew's jaw tightened. He hated being given orders.
"You won't get a single dime from the Macdonald family," he spat.
"Keep your dirty money," Elena said. "Just make sure I never have to look at your face again."
Footsteps pounded against the floorboards behind them.
Sloane marched onto the terrace. Her hair was slightly messy, but her eyes were wild with adrenaline. She saw Andrew and Kaitlynn clutching each other.
"You absolute piece of garbage," Sloane yelled at Andrew.
Andrew recognized her immediately. The heiress to the Astor-Vance fortune. His arrogant expression slipped.
"Sloane, this is a misunderstanding," Andrew started to say.
Sloane didn't listen. She pulled out her phone, raised it, and started snapping pictures. The bright flash fired repeatedly, blinding them in the dim light.
Kaitlynn shrieked and hid her face against Andrew's chest.
"Delete those!" Kaitlynn screamed.
"If you're brave enough to spread your legs, you should be brave enough for a photo," Sloane fired back.
Andrew lunged at Sloane to grab the phone.
Elena moved faster.
Her hand shot out, her fingers precisely finding the pressure point on his wrist. She pressed hard against the nerve. Andrew gasped. A sharp, blinding numbness shot up his arm, instantly sapping his strength. He tried to pull away, but his muscles completely gave out under her targeted technique. It felt like a sudden, localized paralysis.
"Show some respect," Elena warned, her voice a low, dangerous whisper.
She shoved his arm back.
Andrew stumbled back, grabbing his aching wrist. He stared at her, completely shocked by the raw physical power she just displayed.
Elena grabbed Sloane's arm. They turned their backs on the couple.
Elena's heels clicked against the floor, a steady, unbothered rhythm as she walked away.
Andrew stood on the terrace, rubbing his throbbing wrist. He stared at the empty doorway. A cold knot of confusion formed in his stomach. The quiet, submissive woman he married was gone.
Elena and Sloane walked into the main VIP lobby.
A group of men blocked their path.
Jett, Andrew's best friend, stood in the center. He held a half-empty glass of whiskey. His face was flushed with alcohol.
"Well, well," Jett slurred, a nasty grin on his face. "Is the country mouse throwing another tantrum?"
The other rich kids in the group laughed. They looked at Elena's beige coat with obvious disgust.
Andrew and Kaitlynn rushed into the lobby from the hallway. Andrew didn't tell his friends to stop. He just stood there, crossing his arms.
Kaitlynn peeked out from behind Jett's shoulder.
"Guys, please don't be mean to Elena," Kaitlynn said softly. "She's just upset."
Sloane's face turned red with anger. She stepped forward to scream at them.
Elena raised her hand and placed it flat against Sloane's chest, stopping her. Elena gave her a single, calm look. Sloane stepped back.
Elena turned her attention to Kaitlynn.
"Did you enjoy your art therapy in Europe, Kaitlynn?" Elena asked. Her voice was loud enough for the entire lobby to hear.
The laughter died down.
Kaitlynn's smile stiffened. "Yes. The scenery was very healing for my soul."
Elena took a slow step forward.
"The scenery around Lake Geneva is beautiful," Elena said. "Especially near that private medical clinic hidden in the mountains."
Kaitlynn stopped breathing. Her pupils dilated. Her fingers lost their grip, and her expensive clutch slipped, hitting the marble floor with a loud smack.
Andrew frowned. He looked at Elena. "What the hell are you talking about? Shut up."
Elena ignored him. She kept her eyes locked on Kaitlynn.
"Dr. Hoffman is a true professional, isn't he?" Elena asked.
Kaitlynn's face turned completely white. She started shaking.
"You're crazy!" Kaitlynn screamed. "She's making things up! She's lying!"
Jett stepped in front of Kaitlynn, pointing his finger inches from Elena's face.
"You jealous bitch," Jett spat. "You can't stand that Kaitlynn is pure and Andrew actually loves her."
Elena didn't blink. She looked at Jett's pointing finger, then back to Kaitlynn.
"If she's so pure," Elena said, her voice dropping to a deadly calm, "why did she need a surgical procedure to remove a six-week-old embryo?"
Dead silence.
The music from the club seemed to fade away. Everyone in the lobby stared at Kaitlynn.
Andrew looked like he had been struck by lightning. His mouth opened slightly. He slowly turned his head to look at Kaitlynn.
"Kaitlynn?" Andrew whispered.
Kaitlynn grabbed Andrew's arm. Tears poured down her face. "She's lying! Andrew, she's trying to ruin me!"
Elena crossed her arms over her chest.
"The spirits show me a very clear picture of a white building near Lake Geneva," Elena said smoothly, her eyes unblinking. "I see a heavy door with the number four on it. And a bank statement, fluttering in the wind, with the final numbers 8802."
Kaitlynn's knees gave out. She collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. The details were classified. No one could possibly know them.
Andrew stared at the woman crying on the floor. His chest heaved. For the first time in two years, doubt crept into his eyes.
Jett's face turned purple with rage.
"You hired a hacker!" Jett yelled. "You stole her medical records! That's a federal crime!"
Elena slowly turned her gaze to Jett.
"Just like the massive mess you are currently hiding from your father?" Elena asked, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "You better clean up your own backyard, Jett. Those Vegas debts won't stay buried forever."
Jett choked. The sound died in his throat. His face drained of all color, terrified by her vague but terrifyingly accurate warning. He looked like he was going to vomit. The people standing next to him shifted uncomfortably.
Elena brushed a piece of imaginary lint off her sleeve. She looked at the group of stunned, terrified people.
She looked at Andrew one last time.
"You treat a liar carrying another man's mistake like a treasure," Elena said. "You're pathetic."
Elena grabbed Sloane's hand. They walked through the crowd. No one dared to stop them.
As they pushed open the front doors of the club, Elena heard Kaitlynn's hysterical sobbing and Andrew's frustrated shout echoing in the lobby.
She didn't look back.
