They were preparing to declare me mentally unfit, using Dr. Marren’s falsified reports to validate the forged signature if I tried to fight it.

The pieces of Harrison’s plan were falling into place with terrifying precision.

“We need to move,” I said.

“If Harrison or Beatrice find us here, they will know we are onto them.”

“We go to the north parlor,” Matteo said, gathering his tools and throwing a dark canvas cloth over the dress form.

“We can slip through the service corridor behind the pantry.”

I nodded, my mind racing.

I reached out and picked up the iPad, tucking it under my arm along with the paper documents.

Sloane watched me, her eyes dark with apprehension.

“If Harrison finds out I helped you, he will destroy me,” she whispered.

“Then make sure he doesn’t find out,” I said.

I opened the door of the dressing room a fraction of an inch and looked out into the hallway.

The long corridor of Aster Hall was silent, lit only by the faint glow of the sconces.

The family portraits on the walls seemed to watch me with cold, painted eyes.