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W HEN O TTO OPENS THE DOOR TO MY ROOM, MY WORST-CASE scenario is confirmed. I have a fucking roommate.

Mia.

Even worse—Mia doesn’t react the same way.

No, she isn’t startled or pissed or any other reasonable emotion at finding out your roommate is your rival cousin. She smiles .

I remember that smile. Pearly, perfectly straight. The smile I saw years ago when I stood in my family’s dungeon as Mia closed the door on me. Sealing me into the darkness with delight.

Alarms go off in my head. If Mia’s pleased that I’m rooming with her, the arrangement is not due to Leonie. No, I have to infer Mia herself requested our cohabitation.

To watch me, I realize. Like Leonie herself.

I crossed paths with Mia at my father’s wedding, when she caught me in the middle of my plans. Mia herself was in the midst of stealing some heirloom cuff links from my father but ended up leaving with more than purloined jewelry. She won something I sorely regret. Dangerous information about me.

It’s why Tom’s role this week is so crucial. If someone is going to stop this heist, it’s my cousin, who already knows how much I’m willing to take from family.

“Mia,” I say. “I’m sorry. I should have knocked to give you time to get ready for company.”

Mia glances down at her perfectly pleated skirt and blouse.

Okay, it’s a petty mean-girl move, but hey, I was popular once. I’m using every weapon I have this week.

When Mia’s eyes return to me, they sparkle with revenge. “Welcome home, cousin,” she says, smiling with teeth. “You’ll notice nothing has changed. It’s just like when we were kids. Oh, remember how we tormented you? You were so scared of the dark or”—she pauses, gleeful—“was it the dungeon?”

Well, great. At least I know I was right to make Mia-related contingencies. If she’s already making threats about the dungeon, she’s already my competition.

“Nothing has changed at all,” I reply, knowing Mia will catch the deeper layer of meaning. My cousin, my forever tormenter.

I consider returning to the hallway and demanding Otto change my room. It would tip too much off to Mia, however.

Shutting the door behind me, I square off against my devious cousin.

“I snore,” I declare, deadpan.

Mia crosses her arms. “I doubt that.”

“I have to set seven alarms to wake up in the morning.”

Mia raises an eyebrow. “You don’t scare me.”

I have no choice but to concede this is sadly true. I change tactics. Time to further the story Tom started in the car. “Thank you so much for inviting my ex, by the way.” I load enough bitterness in my tone to fill Mia’s Prada suitcases. “It’s been so lovely traveling with him and my boyfriend.”

Mia’s expression shifts into faux remorse. “I hadn’t even thought of that! You and Thomas didn’t seem that serious at the wedding. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

She chews her lip as if she cares. Oh, she’s good. Tom may have found his match with this one.

Obviously, that cannot happen. Only because it would imperil my plan, of course.

She meets my eyes, then tosses her hair behind her shoulder. Facing me fully, she leans back on the armoire. “Your mother seems to have stumbled on some luck,” she ventures. “I hear you purchased a quaint home.”

“We did. Come visit sometime,” I offer.

“I’ll pass,” she replies. “Do you have any plans while you’re here?”

I walk deeper into the room, evaluating my priceless prison.

Except for the outlets and overhead lights, the room is clearly historic.

Polished imperfections show the handmade richness of the furniture, uniform in dark wood.

Daylight illuminates the walls painted snow white. I only hope my mattress isn’t medieval.

Using the excuse of inspecting our room, I evaluate my response to Mia. I’m certain she’s a spy for Leonie. I mean, obviously.

Which means I can use her.

Coming closer, I notice the charm bracelet glittering on Mia’s wrist. “I’m hoping to reconnect with Grandmother,” I say.

I’m not exactly lying.

Nevertheless, my explanation misdirects Mia. She smiles wanly. “You mean reconnect with Grandmother’s will,” she prompts me.

“Mia, please,” I chastise. “This is about family .”

She smiles. It reminds me of the look on her face when she recognized I was stealing from my father’s wedding just as she was. Up until now, I wasn’t even convinced you were really an Owens.

Honor among… among whatever we are, I guess.

“Of course,” she rejoins. “We’re here for the same reason, after all.”

She’s just implied she’s running her own scheme—but why? Little Miss Switzerland is definitely in Leonie’s will.

I want to know more. “You don’t seem happy I’m here,” I remark. “Threatened?”

“By you? Hardly,” she replies. “I’m happy to welcome you to my home, Olivia. As long as you remember what I know.”

She steps closer to me. Territorial. No. Threatening.

Once more, I’m five years old. Shoved into the family dungeon.

I remember the tears burning my eyes while Mia smiled. Her pearly, perfect smile, elated in the strip of light left by the closing door. Her singsong words, triumphant in torment.

Don’t cry, Olivia. If you cry, you’ve lost , she told me. If you’ve lost, you’ll never be one of us .

I slam my own door—figuratively—on the memory.

“I know plenty, too,” I say. I reach for her wrist, bringing her bracelet up between us. “Nice cuff links. I thought they belonged to your dad.”

She’s wearing a charm bracelet. Tiffany, I’d guess from the iconic robin’s-egg blue finish. Smuggled in between the gold key, the Eiffel Tower, and the diamond crown are two very conspicuous charms. Incriminating, even.

The crossed-dagger cuff links.

When I faced off with Mia in the midst of the wedding heist, she flashed me the cuff links in her purse. The cuff links, she explained, were owed to her father per our grandfather’s will. Dash had kept them for himself.

I’m pleased to notice my observation has rattled Mia. She withdraws her wrist hotly. “Yes, well, you know plenty about taking what belongs to your father, don’t you?” she retorts.

She smooths her skirt, then walks past me to the door.

“Stick to what’s yours and I’ll stick to what’s mine, cousin,” she warns me. I recognize her effort to regain cool control of her voice. I’ve heard it from myself. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she promises.

Without waiting for my reply, she disappears into the hallway.

I face myself in the mirror on the wall, admiring how victory looks on me.

While I may be at a disadvantage this week, I’m not without my own weapons. If Mia will use our proximity to observe and monitor me, I’ll return the favor. The crossed-knives cuff links, I’ve just learned, mean something to Mia, enough that she’s kept them for herself.

I file the detail away—a dagger to be deployed against family when needed.