The house had never been this loud.

Not even at Christmas. Not even when Father used to throw his grand charity balls just to remind the city that the Kingsleys still ruled its air.

Every hallway pulsed with footsteps, with florists and decorators and the hollow chatter of people who didn’t know they were helping bury me alive.

Tomorrow, I would become Mrs. Carl Sterling.

Tonight, I was still me. Barely.

Evelyn Sterling arrived again at dusk, her presence swallowing the room before she ...