. CHAPTER 1 — Warm Lights, Cold Hands

The Belcourt mansion did not look cruel from the outside.

That was the trick of it.

From the front lawn, it looked like a dream built in white stone and gold-lit windows, a hilltop palace where violin music spilled into the night and champagne glasses caught the glow of a hundred chandeliers. But three doors behind the ballroom, inside the private gala dressing room, the warmth existed only to hide what was happening beneath it.

Lily Hart stood in front of the vanity mirror with tears running down both cheeks.

She wore a black-and-white service uniform, her dark hair pulled back too tightly because the head housekeeper had told her the Belcourt family did not tolerate loose strands near couture gowns. Her fingers were still damp from steaming silk dresses. Her collar sat crooked because someone had grabbed it moments earlier.

Margot Belcourt stood close enough that Lily could smell her perfume—white roses, sharp alcohol, something expensive and suffocating.

Margot was dressed in deep emerald satin, her hair twisted into a perfect chignon, her mouth painted the color of old wine. In her hands hung the Belcourt Tear, the famous green gemstone necklace that photographers had been begging to see all evening.

The stone swung inches from Lily’s face.

“Look at it,” Margot whispered.

Lily tried to lower her eyes.

Margot caught her chin with two fingers and lifted it again. “No. Girls like you always want to look. You want the gowns, the lights, the music, the name. You want to pretend you belong in rooms that would never open for you.”

“I didn’t touch it,” Lily said, her voice breaking. “Mrs. Belcourt, I swear.”

Margot smiled at her reflection instead of at her. “That is what thieves say when they are afraid.”

“I was only fixing the hem on Miss Caroline’s dress. The necklace was already on the table.”

“The necklace was in its case.”

“It wasn’t when I came in.”

Margot’s smile disappeared.

She stepped closer, pressed the emerald against Lily’s chest, and the cold stone made Lily flinch. In the mirror, the pendant glowed over Lily’s trembling throat like a green eye opening.

“Do you know what this is worth?” Margot asked.

Lily swallowed. “No.”

“More than your whole life has ever been worth.”

The words landed harder than a slap.

Outside the door, the gala roared with laughter. Inside, Lily could hear only her own breathing and the soft clink of the diamond chain in Margot’s hand.

Then Margot did something worse than accuse her.

She fastened the necklace around Lily’s neck.

The clasp clicked.

For one impossible second, both women froze.

Margot’s eyes sharpened, not with satisfaction, but with fear.