Midnight draped Vaughn Manor in velvet darkness. Richard Vaughn leaned against the Carrara marble foyer, his Tom Ford suit infused with Islay scotch. Cassandra smoothed his lapels—a practiced gesture perfected over eighteen years of marriage.
The oak doors swung open. Melody glided in, Prada satchel clutched like armor. Vivian trailed behind, Converse scuffing Persian rugs worth more than Adrian Stone's bicycle.
"Placement results came today," Cassandra announced to the vaulted ceiling. "Melody placed top percentile in Advanced Calculus."
Richard's gaze swept Vivian. "Progress requires consistent effort, Vivienne."
Cassandra's smile tightened at the use of Vivian's formal name—Richard's unconscious homage to her dead mother, Sylvia.
Melody: (Kissing Richard's cheek) "The Lagrange multipliers gave everyone trouble."
Vivian: (Slumping against mahogany paneling) "I aced my nap."
Cassandra: "Perhaps Melody could—"
Vivian: (Cutting her off) "Tutor me? Brilliant! Let's dissect gerunds immediately." She bounded up the spiral staircase before Cassandra could react.
Richard chuckled. "Her mother's spontaneity."
Cassandra's knuckles whitened on the bannister. Sylvia's ghost haunts every corridor.
In the Heritage Library, Vivian dumped her backpack onto a 17th-century escritoire. Melody recoiled as a crumpled exam sheet slid out—English Lit: 82/100 scrawled in crimson ink.
"You cheated?" Melody hissed.
"Strategic collaboration," Vivian corrected, spinning a Montblanc pen. "Now—enlighten me about dangling participles."
For twenty minutes, Melody parsed syntax with clinical precision. Vivian's questions grew increasingly absurd.
"What's a predicate?"
"Define copular verb?"
"Is 'Stone-worthy' a valid adjective?"
Melody's composure fissured. "Are you deliberately obtuse?"
Vivian's smile turned lupine. "Does Adrian find your tutoring... stimulating?"
Melody: (Slamming Lexicon) "My academic integrity isn't your punchline!"
Vivian: "Integrity? Please. You're auditing his poverty like it's a zoo exhibit."
Melody: "He's applying to Cambridge! Unlike you, I—"
Vivian: (Leaning forward) "—you what? Imagine those glacial fingers unbuttoning your blouse?"
Melody's gasp echoed off leather-bound volumes.
Vivian: "Admit it. You've replayed that kiss a hundred times."
Melody: "Disgusting!"
Vivian: "Disgusting?" She laughed. "Or devastatingly jealous?"
Moonlight through leaded glass cut Melody's face into harlequin masks. Vivian pressed her advantage.
"The Cobra's mark," she murmured. "Right temple. Identical to Roxy's sparring partner at Queens."
Melody froze. "Volkov's thugs attacked Dylan's Porsche last month."
"Convenient coincidence," Vivian purred. "Especially since Kane despises Dylan's father—the judge who sentenced his mother."
Melody's composure shattered. "You think Stone's connected to—"
"Kane's crew runs protection rackets near Stone's apartment." Vivian spun her pen. "Does tutoring include bail money consultations?"
Melody: (Backing toward door) "I'm telling Father!"
Vivian: "Tell him what? That Stone's mother's in Bedford Hills for embezzlement? That he falsified his guardianship papers?" She rose slowly. "How exactly does that help your... pure intentions?"
Melody: "I never—"
Vivian: (Mimicking Cassandra) "'The Vaughns associate with old money or no money—never tainted money.'"
Melody: (Voice breaking) "He's brilliant! He deserves—"
Vivian: "—a society princess to launder his pedigree? How noble." She snapped a photo of Melody's tear-streaked face. "Smile for the alumni newsletter!"
Cassandra materialized in the doorway. "Richard requires silence." Her eyes flickered between daughters—Vivian's defiant smirk, Melody's trembling lip.
"Melody's overwhelmed," Vivian declared. "Turns out Stone's complexity exceeds her tutoring capabilities."
Cassandra's gaze locked onto Vivian's phone. "Delete that."
"Or?" Vivian challenged. "Recall what happened when you tried disciplining me last spring?"
The unspoken threat hung like arsenic mist. The fire. The missing nanny. The silenced investigators.
Cassandra paled. "To bed. Both of you."
As Melody fled, Vivian whispered: "Sleep well, Mother Dearest. Dream of clean pedigrees."
Alone in the library, Vivian opened Kane's encrypted chat.
Vivian: Bedford Hills visitor logs. Now.
Cobra: Price doubled. Delivery fee: 3am at the Viper.
She watched moonlight gild Sylvia's portrait. The dead woman's eyes seemed to whisper: Dangerous games require dangerous allies.