Being in Elena’s body had taught me one thing very clearly.

This house had ears.

Mary Prescott never shouted. She never slammed doors or raised her voice. Everything she did was quiet, deliberate, controlled. Which meant when voices carried through the halls, it was never by accident.

I was supposed to be in my room.

Elena’s room.

I had shut the door and locked it, the way she always did, the way Mary preferred. Appear compliant. Stay out of sight. Do not give anyone a reason to ...