Poker Face

Elena heard the footsteps before she reached the kitchen. They weren't the heavy, thudding steps of the staff or the casual stride of Julian. They were sharp, rhythmic, and deliberate. Constance.

She shoved the flash drive deep into the pocket of her slacks and stepped back into the kitchen, grabbing a microfiber cloth. She started wiping the already-gleaming granite island, her back to the door.

"Elena?"

The voice was sweet, dripping with artificial concern.

Elena turned. Constance stood in the doorway, dressed in a dove-gray suit that probably cost more than Elena’s college education. She didn't look like a woman who had just been shredding documents. She looked like the benevolent matriarch of a charity gala.

"Hello, Constance. I was just cleaning up."

"Cleaning up?" Constance walked into the room, her eyes scanning the space. She looked at the smart hub on the wall, then at the empty counter where Elena had been standing moments ago. "I thought I saw an alert. A system access notification."

"I was trying to reset the hub," Elena said, keeping her voice steady. "The weather warning froze the screen."

"Did it?" Constance moved closer. She reached out and touched the glass panel of the hub. It was still dark, locked out by the remote command. "It seems completely dead now."

"I must have tripped a circuit," Elena lied.

Constance turned her gaze to Elena. Her eyes were a pale, icy blue, unreadable and terrifyingly sharp. "You're very tech-savvy, aren't you, dear? For a housewife."

"I used to be an accountant, Constance. Not an IT specialist."

"Accountant. Yes." Constance walked around the island, trailing a finger along the marble. "You were very good at finding things that didn't add up. That's why Julian liked you. He said you were... organized."

The way she said *organized* sounded like an insult.

"I try to be," Elena said.

Constance stopped directly in front of her. She was smaller than Elena, but in that moment, she seemed to fill the room. "You know, Elena, sometimes being too organized is a liability. Sometimes, it’s better to let things be... fluid. Families are messy. Relationships are messy. If you try to put everything in a box, you might find that you’re the one who ends up trapped."

Elena gripped the cloth tighter. It was a threat. A polite, veiled, high-society threat.

"Is there something you need, Constance?"

"I need you to relax," Constance said. She reached out and patted Elena’s cheek. Her hand was cold. "You look pale, dear. Guilty conscience?"

Elena froze. "Why would I have a guilty conscience?"

Constance smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're stressed about the Gala. Or maybe because you're worried about Maya. Or maybe..."

She let the sentence hang in the air, heavy and poisonous.

Then she looked down at the counter. At the iPad Elena had left there. The screen was dark, but Elena knew the browser history was still active. The search for *Archer Holdings LLC*.

Constance reached out. Her manicured finger hovered over the home button.

"Maybe you've been looking at things you shouldn't," Constance whispered.

She pressed the button. The screen lit up.