"Winona, Tarquin says to put the pill bottle away and just stick to the n. Don''t worry about Zane hurting you the ce is crawling with security."


    Winona did as instructed, slipping the tiny bottle into her jeans pocket. Her expression turned icy.


    "Negotiations are over. You can all leave now!"


    Zane''s brows knitted together. "Excuse me, what did you just say?"


    Winona shot him a look of pure disdain. "This is my house. After all this drama, you really think you get to stay here? Aren''t you embarrassed? Because I sure am by you."


    Prisci nearly exploded, her voice shrill. "You''re telling us to leave? You should be the one leaving! This is my son''s house!"


    Winona didn''t even look her way. She strode over to the front door, yanked it open, and leaned against the frame, arms crossed.


    "So, are you walking out on your own, or should I call the cops to help you out?"


    Zane''s jaw tightened, his face dark and stormy. He stomped over, about to yank Winona back inside for a "private chat"-but before he could touch her, a rock came whizzing out of nowhere and smacked his hand.


    The stone was sharp. It sliced open his skin, and blood started dripping down his knuckles.


    Zane hissed in pain, instantly on guard. "Who''s out there?!"


    He nced around the porch, but the quiet suburban street was empty. The tension in the air was thick as a London fog.


    Turning back to Winona, Zane''s eyes narrowed in surprise. "You didn''te back alone. You brought someone with you?"


    Winona shot him a sideways nce, refusing to borate. She let him think whatever he wanted.


    Zane''s breathing quickened. "You told Tarquin and Elysia everything? About us?”


    "Yeah. So what?"


    Zane''s eyes went wide, almost popping out of his head. "I texted you, Winona! I warned you: if you want your dad to stay alive, you say nothing. You told them anyway-are you trying to get your father killed?!"


    Winona ignored him. Right on cue, the moving truck she''d called pulled up outside. She waved the movers in.


    "Everything in the walk-in


    closet-clothes, shoes, the lot-toss it. Bedroom; guest room, nkets sheets, whatever you find. Oh, and clear out the kitchen and bathroom too want everyst thing out of here."


    The movers didn''t hesitate. They started hauling out Zane and Prisci''s stuff by


    the armful, dumping it onto the frontwn.


    Prisci shrieked, trying to block their way. "Stop! That''s our personal property! You can''t touch that!"


    The movers ignored her. Her protest was drowned out by the sound of boxes thumping onto the porch.


    When she realized she couldn''t stop them, Prisci copsed onto the hardwood floor, sobbing so hard she nearly choked. "This is a crime! Lord, have mercy! She''s throwing us out of our own house! How did lend up with such a vicious daughter-inw? Oh, woe is me..."


    Winona just rolled her eyes. Let her cry-she sounded like a broken record, and Winona half-expected her to start wailing into a violin for effect.


    Zane was livid. "Winona, what the hell are you doing?!"


    She''dpletely thrown him for a loop. Last night, when he realized Winona had been faking it, he''d immediately sent his guys to grab his illegitimate daughter and infect Ridley with the virus. He''d texted Winona right after, threatening: If you want Ridley to live, don''t tell anyone. Meet me alone.


    He''d nned to get his hands on the Newsom family''s fortune-he''d been scheming for years, and he wasn''t about to walk away with nothing.


    But Winona hadn''t yed by his rules.


    "So you really don''t care if your dad lives or dies?" Zane threatened, voice low and menacing.


    Winona didn''t even blink. She just looked at him coolly. "Maybe you should worry about yourself for a change. Congrattions, Zane. You''re about to be famous." She waved her phone at him with a sly smile.