The mansion door opened before Charlotte reached the top step. Lisa filled the frame, pastel silk and a smile that knew exactly how it looked.
“Zach isn't feeling well," she said, voice dipped in sympathy. “Why don't you change first, freshen up?"
Charlotte stepped inside, the polished marble catching her reflection in quick, cold fragments. “Where is he?"
“Upstairs," Lisa said, gesturing vaguely. “But—"
A maid appeared, head bowed. “This way, ma'am."
Charlotte followed, scanning the familiar corridors. The air still smelled of lemon polish and money that didn't touch warmth. The maid stopped at a narrow door in the back hall and pushed it open.
Inside: a cot, a metal wardrobe, no windows. The air was close, like it had been holding its breath.
Charlotte's voice was flat. “This isn'
