A TUNNEL OF blue light shone from the headlights, illuminating the long driveway. The large oak trees bowed and the Spanish moss twisted. By the howl of the wind, it was more than a breeze. An autumn storm was brewing. With November nearly here, cold and warm fronts were battling for domination.

As Bryce stopped the car before the front steps of Montague Manor, he squeezed my hand. “I could come in with you.”

“I-I don’t know… if Alton would approve.”

Apparently it was the right answer, at least one Bryce willingly accepted.

“Then let me walk you to the door.”

“It isn’t necessary. It’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I didn’t linger long enough for a goodnight kiss; instead, I pushed the door open. When I did, the wind grabbed ahold, pulling the door from my grip and whipping my hair about my face. “Oh! It feels like a storm.”

Stepping from the car, I steadied myself as I pushed the door closed. If Bryce had said anything else, I hadn’t heard, not over the howling winds. Even in the darkness, lost leaves and pine needles swirled on the driveway, small cyclones preparing for a bigger event.

That was what I was doing, dancing to the music Alton and Bryce selected, biding my time for the big event. What would that event be, Saturday night or maybe my wedding?

The building storm no longer registered as I slipped inside and closed the large doors to the manor. I knew all too well that this place was a fortress, impenetrable to outside forces. Through the dimmed foyer and up the stairs, I made my way to my room. I longed for the phone from the shed and even considered going out to find it, but my body ached from the exhaustion and my heart hurt from the sight of my mother. Sleep was what I needed.

Turning the key, I pushed open my bedroom door as flashes of lightning shone from the unblocked windows. I rushed to close the drapes to keep the storm outside. I had enough turmoil within: Mother Nature could keep her mayhem outside.

Looking below, I sighed at the now-empty driveway. Thankfully, Bryce had left.

It was after midnight. Only three more days until Saturday.

My mantra…

I could keep him at bay for three more days, I was confident. However, if things didn’t go as Nox planned, that timetable went from three days to seven weeks. Seven weeks until our wedding. Could I keep Bryce from sex for seven weeks?

With the second window covered, I turned and faced my dark room.

Sometimes clues went unnoticed. Signs were present, but things like storms and drapes demanded attention. Was it a sound or a feeling? I didn’t know.

What I knew with increased certainty was that the small hairs on my arms weren’t standing at attention because of the electrical storm outside my window. As a sense of dread loomed stronger than before, I realized that I hadn’t locked my door. Somehow I’d been more concerned with the storm.

What was I sensing?

In my heart I knew that it wasn’t only my nerves on high alert. Somehow I knew that I wasn’t alone. Someone was in my room.

Why hadn’t I turned on the light?

Blood rushed through my ears, muting the autumn storm. Breathing… had that been what I’d heard?

Survival. The continual flashes from around the draperies gave me snapshots of sight. The growing thunder rolled as I searched for a weapon. The key. The skeleton key was still in my hand. My mind swirled with the possible uses. Stab him in the eye, the neck… where were the most vulnerable points?

“Alex?” The voice came from the direction of my bed.

“Oh fuck. Chelsea.” I reached for a lamp and twisted the switch. Sitting on my bed with her knees pulled up to her chest was my best friend. “What the hell are you doing?”

“They gave me a room down the hallway, but I-I guess… I wanted to talk to you.”

Indignation grew disproportionately to her presence. My fist found my hip. “Or were you checking to see if I came home alone? What? Are we doing a three-way now?”

Her soft hazel eyes grew wide, swirling with shock, hurt, and disbelief. The emotions were all present, each one fighting for its chance to shine.

“I-I thought tonight at dinner was…” Her forehead fell to her knees, muting her words. “God, Alex. We can’t get past this, can we?”

Lifting her tear-stained face, she pulled her knees closer. The action brought my attention away from her as a whole to her as my friend. The pajamas she wore were really a pair of shorts and the top was sleeveless. It wasn’t different from what she’d worn for four years, but she was different. I flipped on another light.

“Oh my God,” I said, my hand moving to my mouth, unable to keep the disgust from my voice.

Her eyes opened wide, meeting mine, as I went toward her.

Only a few feet away, I remembered my fear that the room was bugged. “Come with me.”

Briefly, she hesitated before crawling from near my headboard to standing by the bed and following me into the bathroom. As soon as I shut the door with us both inside, I flipped the switch and the room filled with light, much more light than in the bedroom.

Her complexion was gaunt with her makeup gone. Without asking, I reached for her chin and pulled it toward me. “Oh Chels.” I lifted the tips of my fingers to her left cheek, barely touching the remnants of green. It wasn’t an obvious flinch, but she did. I let go and took a step back. Surrounding her upper arm was a dark purple handprint, complete with individual finger marks. It was what I’d seen in the bedroom, what had prompted me to bring her in here.

Tears filled my eyes as she slowly lifted her top. We’d been roommates for years. It wasn’t as if we paraded around our apartment naked, but the occasional changing of clothes occurred in one another’s presence, enough that we shouldn’t be shocked by the other’s nudity.

Yet as the hem of the tank top rose, my stomach dropped and my body forgot how to move. I couldn’t speak or reach out. I couldn’t do anything but stare at the multiple bruises, strategically placed where they’d be covered by her clothes.

Though my mouth dried, I managed to speak. “Why? What the hell?”

Pulling her shirt back down, Chelsea collapsed onto the edge of the garden tub. Down, down, and further down she went until her head was bowed, held only by her arms resting upon her knees.

“I-I can’t… any… more.” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, muted by her position. She looked up, tears coating her cheeks. “I tried… for you, but… I’ve never been more afraid.”

My legs gave out as I fell down and held onto her knees. “Then why? Why would you do this? Was it really for the money?”

Bristling at my touch upon her knee, she abruptly stood. “It’s easy for you, isn’t it? You’ve always had it. Even in school, even when they took it. You walked right from one bank account to another. That’s fine. Make assumptions, Alex. Thanks for understanding.”

“What the hell? I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who stepped into my life. I never asked you to do it.”

“Not you, but you said it would be all right. You said to trust her.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Look at you.” Standing, I grabbed her slim shoulders and turned her toward the large mirror. Standing beside her, I said, “Look at your hair. Think about the way you dress. This isn’t you. It’s me—the Alexandria me. Did you lie to me for four years?”

She faced me, her eyes blazing. “Is that what you really think? What’s the matter, are you jealous? It isn’t enough that you have Nox, you don’t want me to have Bryce? Well, fuck you. I’m done. I was trying to stay… to help… to take the heat… but fuck you, Alexandria Charles Montague Collins. With each passing day I see how totally screwed up this whole life is. I don’t want it. It’s not worth it. If that’s what you think of me, then you’re not worth it.” She lifted her shirt again. “And good luck with this life. You’re going to need it.”

Allowing the top to drop, she reached for the doorknob. Just as quick I stood in her way.

“Chelsea, I don’t get it. I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. Have you even tried?”

“Have I tried? No. I’ve been a little preoccupied with my mother.”

“How bad is she?” Chelsea asked, concern infiltrating her anger.

“Bad. The DTs from withdrawal are wreaking havoc on her body. It’s worse than I could’ve ever imagined.”

She nodded. “You needed to be here. No one else would be watching after her, not like you.” She shrugged. “Besides, I think he really does like you. I mean, if he’s capable of it, it’s you.”

“How long have the two of you…? This started when? Our freshman year? Sophomore?”

Chelsea paced the small space, shaking her head. “Is that what you think?”

“It’s what you said. It’s what he said.”

“I didn’t have a choice, and him… he lies more than he tells the truth. I’m his cover for the Melissa Summers scandal. Did that story work so well that even you didn’t see the truth?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Alex, Bryce is a pig. I hate him.”

There was a hint of something in her voice. I took a step back and looked at her. My Chelsea wasn’t gone. Hidden under the auburn hair dye and expensive clothes, she was still there. When she was downstairs, she might not have been the same woman I’d lived with, but now hearing a bit of that spark, I knew in my heart that my friend hadn’t been completely broken. Little by little she was trying to come back. “Why would you agree to this, to be his cover… to allow all of this?” I asked, motioning up and down her body.

“Agree? Allow? Is that what you think?” Indignation returned to her tone. “Are you going to allow it? Because I have news for you: it will happen.”

“I’m not marrying him.”

“Really? That’s not what I’ve been hearing. Tonight at dinner Suzanna was going on and on about the perfect gown the two of you found.”

“This place is an illusion. I’ve told you that before—forever. Nothing here is real.”

“It feels pretty fucking real to me.”

As Chelsea sank back to the edge of the tub, I recalled Nox’s request, the reason I’d tried to get her here to Montague and away from Bryce, even if I wasn’t sure I wanted that. “Chelsea, why would Nox ask me to help you?”

Her eyes lit up. “He did? When?”

“Um, the last time I spoke to him. He said something about things not being the way they seem.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t do this. Just like Stanford. I can’t even be a whore right. Just another item to add to my list of failures.”

Again I melted by her feet. “Chels, you’re not a whore or a failure. You’re sleeping with a jerk, but that doesn’t make you a whore. You’re smart. They hired you at Montague for HR. I’ve always thought you were one of the smartest—especially when it came to street smarts—women I know.”

She swallowed. “I-I wish I could explain. I really want to help you, but I have one out and I want to take it. Since you’ve been back, I-I can’t do anything or say anything… he scares me.” She reached for my hands. “Really scares me. He’s said a few things. I might be wrong, but I think it was him in our apartment. If not him, he was involved. I don’t know why and I can’t prove it.”

One out—what did she mean?

Before I could process, she was back to the subject of the attack in Palo Alto. “He would do it.”

“I-I don’t know if he’s capable—”

With tears again filling Chelsea’s eyes, she nodded. “Yes, Alex, he is. Tell me what happened the first day you arrived, during the night?”

It had only been days, but it seemed like much longer. I thought back. “I wanted to make a call.”

“Nox?”

I shrugged. “Of course, but I didn’t have his number. I had Deloris’s.” Chelsea didn’t speak so I went on, recalling the night. “Alton had taken my phone. I was supposed to be locked in my room, but I had a key. I tried in this wing, room after room, but couldn’t find a working house phone. It was the middle of the night, so I snuck down to Alton’s office.”

“And?”

“Bryce was there, waiting. He caught me. He pushed me to the floor…” Saying it aloud made it even worse than when I’d experienced it. “Somehow I convinced him to let me up and let me call. He listened to the call and afterward took the key and locked me back in this room.”

“Were you relieved he didn’t… take it further?”

I nodded. “Yes, he was… aroused. I was afraid…” I couldn’t go on. Not with the way Chelsea was looking at me. “Why? Tell me. Did he go back to Carmichael Hall?”

“Yes.”

“That’s where you were staying?”

“Yes.” Each response was quieter than the one before.

“Chelsea, what happened?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not talking about it. No one needs to hear that and I don’t want to relive it.”

It was as if someone reached into my chest and squeezed my heart while someone else punched me in the gut. Oh God. What was she suffering for me? This couldn’t go on.

I stood and paced, back and forth, as my plan and Nox’s went through my head. “I can’t tell you more, but I can help you. I can get you out of here.”

“And then I’m leaving you. I don’t want to—”

“No, you’re not leaving me. You’re giving me one less concern.”

She shook her head. “Can I stay with you tonight in your room? I’d like for one night to sleep and feel… well… safe.”

I’d never considered Montague Manor as safe, but if it could be that for Chelsea, who was I to stop her?

“Yes, but in the morning… we fell asleep talking. They can’t know that we’ve made up. They can’t suspect or they might figure out that you’re leaving.”

“I don’t want to leave without you.”

“I don’t want you to stay.”

As we climbed into bed, I asked, “How is your job at Montague Corporation?”

“Fake,” she said as her head fell against the pillow.

“It’s not real?”

She yawned. “You said it, Alex. Nothing here is real.”