“Look,” he says, “I get it. She’s a big personality. That kind of influence always comes with baggage.”
“Especially when it’s a powerful woman,” Stella agrees, venom in her tone.
“People always want to bring down powerful women,” the sound tech chimes in, her voice accusatory, gaze pointed.
Trey gives me a complicated smile, one that says I’ve lost, but he’s trying to be kind. “Strong women attract backlash, especially when they’re in the public eye like Dr. Ralston. She’s building a legacy, and we want to celebrate that. Not everyone will. Jealousy always comes into play.”
I steel myself, gathering my racing thoughts. “You think I’m…jealous? Why would I make this up?”
He holds up a hand, cutting off my angry rant. “I think there’s a history here we’re not equipped to litigate. If you have a story, maybe make your own documentary. We have work to do.”
I want to scream.
Instead, I step forward, lowering my voice. “She’s not building a legacy. She’s building a cult. And the people who don’t play along? Well, they disappear. You have a chance to do the right thing. To do something to stop her. I can help you.”
“Okay,” Stella says, more firmly now. “I think we’re done.”
“You’re taking the easy way out,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “Rather than try to make something honest. Something scary.”
I know I’ve said too much. Done too much. I can’t help it. Ralston, this place—it’s all messing with my head. Every time I think I’ve pulled myself together, a gust of rage comes in and wrecks everything. The group turns from me, prepared to walk away.
And then, there’s a voice behind me.
“Lila.”
My heart turns to ice. I’d still know her voice anywhere. Even without looking over my shoulder.
I breathe. Brace myself.
Slowly, I turn.
She’s right there. Close enough I could touch her. Close enough I can smell her perfume. I was right—it’s still that familiar Chanel.
Ralston. In the flesh. In a lavender wool coat, her lipstick perfectly applied. She’s holding a metal water bottle with her coffee brand’s logo on the side. She smiles at me as if we’re old pals, but I see the darkness there.
She knows I haven’t returned to make amends.
Before I can say a word or even process my thoughts, the crew zips around me, past me. They rush toward her as if she’s the last bit of oxygen in the room, faces lit up.
“Dr. Ralston! Perfect timing! We were just talking about getting you on camera for a quick soundbite. The lighting’s amazing right now, and we thought this shot was better suited to you than Dani anyway. We had a different idea to use her for another day, if you’re up for it.”
But she’s not looking at them, not registering that they’ve flocked around her. Her eyes, those golden-brown eyes I used to have memorized, are locked on mine. “Lila,” she says again, and I hold my breath. “I didn’t know you were here.”
The lie slips from her tongue as easily as ever. She knew. Even if she didn’t know I was coming, she saw me last night. Her words crawl under my skin like bugs, uncomfortable and itchy.
“Oh? No one informed Your Highness of my arrival?”
Her eyes flick to the crew then, acknowledging them for the first time. She smiles, but there’s steel in it. “Could we speak privately?”
“Not interested.”
I try to move past her, but she turns. “Wait.” She doesn’t even have to touch me. I stop in my tracks on command. A good little girl. She glances at the crew, then steps closer, her voice lowenough now I’m sure I’m the only one who can hear it. “You’ve made your point.” Then, she raises her voice, only slightly, but enough so they can hear. “You’re not well, Lila. I understand. But I think it’s time you left Havenport. Went home to rest.”
My blood runs cold. I turn my head to look at her. “I’m notwell? That’s your angle? Still couldn’t come up with something original, huh?”
She looks at me. From a distance, if you don’t know her, I can see how you’d think the look in her eyes is one of concern. I see it like a veil. It’s the look you’d give a wounded animal you’re generously trying not to put down in front of company.
But just behind that veil? Pure hatred.
