Ava’s blood chilled. “What arrangements?”
“Oh, you’ll find out.” Lilith turned, her smile poison-sweet. “Though I will say, your mother makes excellent soup dumplings. I had them just last month. Stopped by to check on the renovations.”
The floor dropped out from under her. “You’ve been to my parents’ restaurant?”
“Of course. I like to keep tabs on my investments.” Lilith moved closer. “Tell me, do they know what they signed? Do they understand the clauses buried in that renovation loan? The insurance policies? The vendor contracts?”
Peterson Holdings. Her mother’s text from weeks ago:We barely remember signing.
Ava’s vision blurred at the edges. Her hands were shaking. The pendant burned against her chest now, ice becoming fire, and she couldn’t tell if it was protecting her or warning her or screaming.
“No,” Lilith continued, watching Ava’s face like a cat watches a wounded bird. “I don’t suppose they do. Not yet.”
“Stay away from my family.”
“But darling, I’ve been part of your family for years.” Lilith’s eyes glittered. “You just didn’t know it. Peterson Holdings sends its regards.”
Victor moved so fast Ava barely tracked it; suddenly between them, the temperature dropping twenty degrees.
“That’s enough.”
“Is it?” Lilith’s gaze shifted to him. “She should know what’s at stake. What happens when fake arrangements crumble.”
“You…” Ava started forward, but Victor’s hand on her arm stopped her. His grip was too tight. His fingers were too cold.
Lilith took half a step closer. For a moment—just a moment—her true form flickered beneath her perfect face. Fire and teeth and howling darkness. Eyes with no whites, just endless black shot through with red lightning. A mouth that opened too wide, revealing row after row of needle teeth.
Then the mask slammed back into place, and she was just Lilith again. Beautiful. Terrible. Smiling.
“I’ll see you both at the retreat. Do try to be convincing.”
She turned and swept out, the door slamming hard enough to crack the frame.
Victor exhaled slowly. The frost on the windows began to melt. “That could have gone better.”
“Peterson Holdings.” Ava’s voice shook. Her whole body was shaking. “She’s been involved with my parents for years? The loan they barely remember signing… that was her?”
“It seems so.” He straightened his tie, not meeting her eyes. “We need to talk about this. But first, we need to buy you a ball gown.”
“Victor…”
“The retreat, Ava. Three days. We can’t face Lilith in borrowed Prada.” His voice hardened. “And I need time to figure out exactly how deep this goes.”
Bergdorf’smain floor smelled like money and intimidation.
Evening gowns hung in their own alcove near the grand staircase, each displayed with museum-piece spacing. Soft classical music drifted from hidden speakers. The kind of quiet that cost extra.
“The blue would suit you,” Victor said, nodding toward a midnight silk that shifted between sapphire and black depending on the angle. “And perhaps the burgundy for cocktails.”
Ava reached for the fabric. It felt like water against her fingertips, cool and impossibly soft. Then she saw the price tag.
Six months’ rent. For something she’d wear once.
A sales associate glided over, silver hair in an architectural chignon, name tag readingViviennein elegant script. She assessed Ava with the professional eye of someone who could determine measurements at twenty paces.
“Would you like to see them in your size? You’re a four, yes? Perhaps a two in certain designers.”
“We’ll take several to try,” Victor said before Ava could respond. “The blue, the burgundy, and…” He paused, studying a gown the color of champagne with delicate beading across the bodice. “That one.”
