No. The word repeated wildly in my head, but my throat locked.

I scrambled to my feet, my trembling fingers instinctively gripping the heavy hem of my turtleneck, judging the distance to the safety of the main house. But I was not fast enough. I was never fast enough.

Before I could take three desperate strides, two of the estate’s broad-shouldered private security guards—men whose generous salaries were were paid by my father, but who had clearly been slipped several hundred-dollar bills by my sister—blocked my way.

They did not strike me, but their large hands clamped down on my upper arms with unyielding force, holding me in place just as Chloe closed the distance between us.

“Chloe, please don’t do this,” I whispered, my voice breaking for the first time in fifteen years. “I’m begging you. Please.”

She smiled. It was a hollow smile that frightened me more than anger would have. “Time to finally join the party, Maya.”