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“No. Thank you. I’m just going to lie down.”

“Very well. It’s good to have you back at the Manor.”

Anxious to hide away in my room, I hustle up the staircase, counting the stairs while my head swirls in a number of thoughts, until something hard smashes into me. Knocked off balance, I flail my arms, and a hand reaches out to grab my wrist before I fall.

Hand to my chest, I catch my breath and look up to find Lucian frowning down at me.

Of all the times in the world to run into him, literally, why now?

Why, when my guilt is at its height?

“I’m really thinking a horn might be more appropriate for you.”

In spite of the anxiety tearing up my insides, I force a smile at that. In a parallel universe, I’d steal the opportunity to flirt. At the moment, I’m just being nice. “I almost think you enjoy watching me stumble into you.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find it somewhat amusing.”

As much as I’d love to engage our usual banter, a much heavier weight presses down on me. Slipping my wrist from his grasp, I clear my throat and hike my duffle higher onto my shoulder. “Excuse me. I’ll try to watch where I’m going.”

He doesn’t say a word, while I continue on up the staircase, the desperate impulse reminding me I’m not the pretty delicate thing who flirts and minds her manners. I’m a crude thief, a former street kid, one who does what she has to in order to survive.

Even if that means fucking over those who are willing to catch my fall.

Chapter 29

Isadora

Wringing the fabric of my dress, I stand in the elevator, waiting to reach Laura’s room on the second floor. The long maxi certainly wouldn’t have been my first choice, but the oversized, lightweight military jacket that Amy paired with it is perfect for tucking the doll inside. The trembling of my fingers, coupled with the cold, hollow feeling in my chest, is hard to ignore. It’s my body’s way of telling me I’m not the slick and heartless swindler I’ve spent all night convincing myself that I am. The physical manifestations of a girl with a conscience, who isn’t out to hurt anyone. In fact, this whole fiasco is about ensuring that no one gets hurt.

The elevator doors open on the empty sitting room, and from here, I can see the doll beneath the glow of light that shines down on her inside the glass case. I try to imagine her missing. Would anyone even notice, with all the dolls crammed together?

Nell wanders into the room, tipping her head. “You’re early this morning. She’s still under.”

“Think I got too much sleep over the weekend, myself. Feeling kind of antsy.”

“Well, hey, I’m going to grab some coffee from the kitchen. Can you listen for her?”

“Of course.”

It’s almost too easy. Or maybe I’ve just grown accustomed to how predictable and efficient things work in this place. I knew she’d still be asleep. The woman never wakes before her morning alarm that’s set for nine. I knew Nell would run down for her usual cup of coffee before things begin, taking her time, which would leave me completely alone.

The doors to the elevator close, and I glance at my watch. Twenty-to nine. I have just under that to grab the key, snatch the doll, store it away in my room, and return to Laura’s room before Nell gets back. When she does return, I’ll check my texts, where Aunt Midge will already have sent the message we discussed the night before, telling me she’s coming to pick me up.

It’s stupid. Perhaps the most under-thought plan I’ve come up with, and I’m certain there are a number of consequences that I haven’t even begun to explore.

But I don’t have the luxury of time, and even if I did, would it stop me?

Not when Aunt Midge’s life is on the line.

I shuffle across the room, into Laura’s bedroom, where the shades are still drawn. Her snores trail my steps through the dim light, as I tiptoe across the floor toward the tray on her vanity dresser, where she stores all of her jewelry. Halfway there, the floorboard beneath me creaks, and I halt, eyes screwed shut, as she sniffles and shifts in her bed. Daring a peek through the darkness of the room, I find her lying with her head turned away from me, and the sound of snores fills the room again.

The bracelet lies on top of her discarded jewelry, and I carefully lift it from the tray, the jitter in my hands threatening to drop the damn thing.

With the bracelet secured, I hurry out of the room. Seconds later, I’m lifting the doll from its stand, and rearranging the surrounding dolls to fill the gap left there.

Slightly bigger than I originally remember, I tuck it beneath my arm inside the jacket, feeling stiff and awkward as it rests against my ribs.

And just like that, I have officially stolen the most valuable thing I’ll ever touch in my life.