The countdown on my phone said 02:58:41.

I sat on the bench in the staff locker room and watched the numbers drop. The fluorescent light above me buzzed and flickered. It always did. Three years, and nobody ever fixed it.

My feet throbbed inside my cheap sneakers. I pulled one off and looked. Two blisters on my heel, one already torn open. I had cleaned forty-two rooms this week. The guests in the ocean suites liked to leave wine on the carpet.

In less than three hours, I would stop being Lilian the housekeeper. I would be Lilian Salazar again. Sole heiress to Zenith Global Corporation. Hotels, towers, tech. Billions.

That was my grandfather's test. Sullivan Salazar didn't believe in soft heirs. *Three years at the bottom,* he had told me. *No money. No name. If you break, you were never meant to lead.*

I didn't break.

So why did my throat feel tight?

I opened my locker. Behind my folded uniform sat a small wooden box. Dark, old, smooth from many hands. Inside was a piece of New England agarwood. Grandpa had pressed it into my palm before he got sick.

*For the one you choose,* he'd said. *Choose well.*

Drake's birthday was next week. I had planned to give it to him then. I had pictured his face. I pushed the box deeper behind my clothes and shut the door.

Tonight I had to say goodbye to this life. The vending machine coffee. The old women who shared their lunch with me. And maybe him, too. I didn't know how to tell him who I really was.

The door banged open.

"Lil. Why aren't you dressed?"

Drake stood there in his good navy shirt. His cologne hit me before he did. He went straight to the mirror and fixed his collar.

I flipped my phone face down on the bench. "I'm tired. I thought I'd skip the party."

"Skip it?" He laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Nico Harrison is going to be there. Bennett Harrison's son. Do you get what that means?"

"He's just a guest, Drake."

"He's a door." He turned and pointed at me. "His family knows everyone. One good word from him and my dad's company gets a contract. This could change everything."

I pulled my sneaker back on slowly. The blister stung. He didn't look down.

"Okay," I said. "I'll go."

"Good." He checked his teeth in the mirror. "And smile, okay? Don't stand in the corner looking miserable. Don't embarrass me."

He left without waiting for me.

I looked at the closed door for a long moment. Then I put on my only black dress.

---

The party was in the old ballroom by the cliffs. Big windows. The Atlantic crashed black and loud outside. Somebody had lit a fire pit on the terrace, and orange sparks floated up into the dark.

Nico Harrison owned the room without trying.

He lay across a red velvet couch with a champagne glass in one hand. Blond hair, white teeth, a watch that cost more than my three years of pay. A waitress walked by him.

"Six," he said loudly. "Nice legs. Bad face."

His friends laughed. The waitress's ears went red. She kept walking.

Nyra Hunt sat on the arm of his couch.

Of course she did.

She wore pale pink, soft as cotton candy. She leaned in close to him and giggled at everything. When he dropped his napkin, she gasped like it was a tragedy and picked it up for him.

"Oh my gosh, Nico, you're so *funny*," she said. Her voice was high and sweet. Like a little girl's.

Nyra was Drake's best friend. That was what he always called her. *My best friend since forever, Lil. Don't be weird about it.*

I watched Drake walk straight to them. He didn't look for me once. Nico said something I couldn't hear. Drake threw his head back and laughed too loud. Too long. Nico didn't even look at him.

I found a corner near the window. Cold glass touched my back.

I turned my phone over. 02:55:09.

*Just survive the night,* I told myself. *That's all.*

I went to get a glass of water near the terrace doors. That was when I saw them.

Nyra had pulled Drake behind a pillar. Her hand rested on his arm. Her sweet smile was gone. She looked bored and sharp.

I stopped. The music was loud, but I caught pieces.

"...Nico's getting bored," she said. "We need games. Something fun."

"Like what?"

She glanced out at the fire pit. Then at the silver buckets of ice by the bar. "I'll figure it out. Just make sure Lilian plays along. You know how she gets. Don't let her kill the vibe."

Drake didn't even pause.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll handle her."

*Handle her.*

Nyra patted his cheek. The sweet smile slid back on like a mask. She floated back toward Nico's couch.

I stood there with the water glass in my hand. It was so cold my fingers ached.

Outside, the fire snapped. A gust of wind pushed sparks against the window.

I told myself it was nothing. Just a party game.

My phone buzzed in my palm.

02:51:33.

At ten o'clock, Nyra tapped a spoon against her champagne glass.

The music dropped. Every head turned. She stood on the edge of Nico's couch like a little girl on a stage, holding two crystal bowls against her chest.

"Okay, everyone! Game time!" Her voice bounced off the high ceiling. "This bowl has all our names. This one has dares. I pull a name, I pull a dare. No take-backs!"

Nico sat up. For the first time all night, he looked interested.

"What kind of dares?" he drawled.

Nyra winked at him. "The fun kind."

People laughed and crowded closer. Chloe Jenkins from front desk squealed and clapped. Drake moved to stand behind Nyra, like a bodyguard. He still hadn't looked at me.

I stayed by the window. The glass was cold on my back. The fire pit glowed on the terrace, and somebody had set a wide metal tray beside it. Black lumps sat on the tray, red at the edges. I hadn't noticed it before.

My stomach went tight.

The first few rounds were easy. A busboy had to sing. A bartender had to do push-ups. Nico laughed at all of it, but his laugh was getting thin. He kept checking his watch.

Then Nyra reached into the name bowl again.

I watched her hand. I had cleaned rooms for three years. I knew how people moved when they were hiding something. Her fingers didn't dig. They didn't search. She just closed them, quick, like the paper was already waiting there.

She unfolded it and gasped.

"Lilian!"

Every face turned to my corner. Somebody whistled.

Nyra dipped into the dare bowl. Again, no searching. She read it, and her hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh no," she whispered. Then louder, so the whole room could hear. "Walk barefoot across the coals."

The room went quiet. Then Nico laughed. A real laugh this time. He set his glass down and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Now we're talking," he said.

Nyra's eyes went huge and wet. "Oh my gosh, I feel so bad. I wrote that one for me. It was supposed to be *my* draw. But I have such sensitive skin, I just can't—" Her lower lip trembled. She turned and looked up at Drake. "Drakey, I didn't mean for it to be her. I swear."

Drake touched her shoulder. "It's fine, Ny. It's not your fault."

*Not your fault.* She'd written it. She'd picked it. And he was comforting her.

Everyone was looking at me now. Waiting. I could feel their eyes like hands.

I shook my head.

"No," I said quietly. "I'm not doing that."

A few people groaned. Chloe muttered, "Wow. Buzzkill." Nico sighed loudly and picked his glass back up, like I was a TV show that had turned boring.

Drake's face changed. I knew that look. Jaw tight. Nostrils wide. He crossed the room in five steps.

He grabbed my arm above the elbow. Hard. His fingers pressed right into the bone.

"Stop making a scene," he hissed into my ear. His breath smelled like whiskey and mint. "It's one dare. Just do it and stop embarrassing me in front of everyone."

"Drake, it's *fire*."

"It's party coals. Half of them are out." His grip got tighter. "Nico is watching. Do you understand? Don't ruin this for me."

*For me.* Not for us. It had never been us.

He didn't wait for my answer. He steered me toward the terrace doors. My sneakers squeaked on the polished floor. People stepped aside to let us through. Nobody stopped him. Nobody said a word.

The wind hit me outside. Cold and salty. Behind the railing, the ocean roared in the dark.

The tray was wider up close. Six feet long, maybe. The coals ticked and hissed. Heat rolled up into my face.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. My hand was shaking.

02:41:17.

Two hours and forty-one minutes.

I could say it. Right now. *I am Lilian Salazar.* I could watch Nico's face fall. I could watch Drake let go.

But then three years would mean nothing. The blisters, the bleach burns, the nights I cried in the supply closet. Grandpa's voice in my head: *If you break, you were never meant to lead.*

I put the phone away.

I bent down and untied my sneakers. My fingers were stiff. I peeled off my socks. The stone terrace was freezing under my bare feet. My torn blister from this morning stung in the wind.

Behind me, somebody held up a phone. Then another. The little red lights blinked on.

I stepped onto the tray.

The pain was white. It didn't feel like heat at first. It felt like teeth. I took a second step. A third. I bit my cheek so hard I tasted copper. I did not run. I did not scream. I would not give them that.

The smell reached me before the last step. Burnt skin. Mine.

I stepped off onto the cold stone. My knees almost folded. I grabbed the railing and held on.

Nico jumped up and whooped. "Yes! *That's* what I'm talking about!" He raised his glass to the room. "The maid's got guts!"

Everyone cheered with him. Like they had been on my side all along.

I looked back for Drake.

He was standing by the doors. His shoulders dropped, slow and loose, like a man who had just dodged a bill. He let out a long breath.

Then he slid his arm around Nyra's waist.

She leaned her head on his chest. Over his shoulder, she looked straight at me. And she smiled.

My feet throbbed with every heartbeat. Out in the black water, a wave hit the rocks and broke apart.

In my pocket, my phone buzzed again.

I found a stool behind the bar, near the kitchen door. Nobody looked at me there.

A busboy slid me a wet rag without a word. I pressed it to the bottom of my feet. The cold made me suck air through my teeth. The skin was red and shiny. A white blister had already swelled under my big toe.

Inside, the music was back. Nico's laugh rose over everything.

I checked my phone. 01:47:12.

Slow. But it was moving.

Then footsteps. I knew them. I had listened for them in hallways for three years.

Drake stopped in front of me. He didn't look at my feet. He looked at my face, and he didn't like what he saw.

"What are you doing back here?"

"My feet are burned, Drake."

"They're fine. You walked off on your own." He crossed his arms. "You're sitting here looking miserable on purpose. Everyone can see you."

I pressed the rag harder. Water ran down my ankle. "On purpose?"

"Yes. Making a face like we tortured you. It makes me look bad. It makes Nyra look bad."

"Nyra picked my name. She didn't even look in the bowl."

He rolled his eyes. "She's just having fun. God, Lil. Not everything is about you."

He crouched down so we were eye level. For one second, I thought he might take the rag. Hold my foot. Say sorry.

He didn't.

"Listen," he said low. "Nico asked what my dad does. Actually asked. Guys like us don't get a seat at that table. Ever. This is once in a lifetime."

"Guys like us," I repeated.

"Don't do that." His jaw ticked. "Don't make me the bad guy. I'm always thinking about you. Who bought you that designer compact for your birthday? Do you know what that cost me?" He shook his head. "But you never appreciate anything."

My hand slid into my dress pocket. My fingers closed around the little case. It was light. Too light. The gold paint on the logo was already flaking at the corners.

I knew what it cost him. I had checked. I knew what was inside it, too.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

He didn't hear the edge in it. He stood and smoothed his shirt. "Good. Come back in. And smile."

---

I went back in. I didn't smile.

The rounds went on. A spa girl ate a whole lemon. A bellman kissed a potted plant. Every time Nyra reached into the bowl, I watched her fingers. Every time, I checked my phone.

01:20. 01:04.

Then two waiters carried in three steel buckets and set them in the middle of the floor. Ice clinked against the metal. The smell hit me a second later. Sour milk. Fish heads. Fryer grease. Someone had scraped the kitchen trays into them.

Chloe gagged and laughed at the same time. "Oh my God, what *is* that?"

"Final dare of the night!" Nyra sang. "Three buckets. Right over the head!"

Nico clapped slowly. "Okay. I take it back. This party doesn't suck."

Nyra reached into the name bowl. I didn't need to watch her hand this time.

"Lilian!" She pressed her palm to her chest. "No way. Again? That's so crazy."

Nobody thought it was crazy. They were already turning to me, grinning.

Nyra pulled out her phone. Her thumb tapped fast. She held it low and tilted it up at me, the angle that gives anyone three chins. Her own face sat in the corner of the screen, soft and pink and pretty.

"Hi, guys! We're live from the cutest party ever," she breathed. "So this is Drake's girlfriend. Oh my God, you guys, she actually volunteered — she is such a good sport!"

I hadn't said a word.

Hearts floated up her screen. Then comments. I could read them from where I stood. *ew is that a maid lol. she looks so desperate. drake can do better.*

I looked at Drake.

Just once more. I didn't speak. I didn't need to. Three years. The shifts I covered for him. The rent I paid when he was short. The way he used to hold my hand on the cliff path. He knew what I was asking.

He looked at the floor.

"Babe," he muttered. "Just get it over with. Everyone's watching. Don't embarrass me."

Something in my chest went very still. Not broken. Just quiet. Like a door closing in an empty house.

I checked my phone. 00:58:40.

Less than an hour.

I set it face down on the bar. I walked to the first bucket. The handle was freezing and slick. It was heavier than I thought.

I didn't wait for them to count.

The cold hit like a slap. Ice cracked against my scalp. Something soft slid down my neck and into my dress. Rotten lettuce. Grease. The smell crawled up my nose and into my throat.

The room screamed with laughter.

I picked up the second bucket. My arms shook. I poured it. A fish bone caught in my hair. Dirty water stung my eyes.

The third bucket. I lifted it high and tipped it slowly. I let every drop fall.

Then I set it down. Gently. The way I set down a guest's things when I cleaned their room.

I stood there, dripping. My teeth chattered so hard my jaw ached. A gray puddle spread around my burned feet.

Nico was bent over, slapping the couch. Chloe had her phone up too. Someone started chanting. "Maid! Maid! Maid!"

The number at the top of Nyra's screen kept jumping. 8,000. 9,500. 10,200.

She stepped closer and zoomed in until my face filled her whole screen.

"Aww, sweetie," she cooed. "You're so brave."

Outside, the wind howled off the water. The fire pit flared once, then bent low to the ground.

Like it was bowing.