“My son, Atlas, has been working with me for several months now,” her father was saying, though he wasn’t quite looking at Atlas. “I am so proud to say that he’ll be moving to Dubai, to take over the operations of The Mirrors when it opens to the public. I hope you’ll all join me in raising a glass to the new tower, and to Atlas!”

“To Atlas!” the room cried out.

Avery couldn’t think. Her mind was spinning wildly. Atlas, moving to Dubai?

She looked over, suddenly frantic to make eye contact with him, but he was smiling and accepting congratulations, playing the role of the dutiful son. A tray passed, and Avery deposited her empty champagne glass on it with such force that the stem snapped in two.

A few party guests looked her way, curious as to what set off the always-composed Avery Fuller; but the hovertray was already speeding off with the evidence, and Avery didn’t really care. The only thing that mattered was Atlas, and the fact that he might leave.

Her tablet buzzed with an incoming message. Don’t worry, I’m not going.

Everything restless and questioning and anxious in Avery stilled a little. Atlas said he wasn’t going, and he wouldn’t lie.

And yet there had been an undercurrent to her dad’s tone that still pricked uneasily at her. I am so proud, Pierson had said. But he didn’t sound proud; he’d been staring at Atlas with a puzzled look on his face, as if he’d woken up to discover that a stranger had been living in his house for thirteen years. As if he had no idea who her brother even was.

Feeling her gaze across the room, Atlas looked up, and for a single brief instant met Avery’s eyes. She gave her head an imperceptible shake, willing him to understand. The problem wasn’t Atlas. It was their dad.

Pierson knew, on some level, what was between them—or at the very least, he suspected, even if he wasn’t yet able to admit it to himself.

She and Atlas had cut it close one too many times. And now their father was doing what he always did with a business problem: isolating it until he could figure out a solution.

Avery recognized her dad’s announcement for what it really was. Atlas was being sent away.

LEDA

ACROSS THE ROOM, Leda’s eyes darted from Avery to Atlas, missing nothing.

Well, well. It looked like the Fuller siblings had been caught off guard by that little announcement. Maybe there was trouble in paradise after all. This called for a toast, Leda decided, her feet moving automatically toward the bar.

“Leda.” Her mom’s hand clamped over her elbow. Leda sighed and turned around, impressed as always by Ilara’s ability to pack a world of emotions—reproach, disappointment, warning—into a single word. “Why don’t you come greet the hostess with me,” she insisted, steering her daughter firmly in the opposite direction.

“I was going to get a soda water,” Leda lied.

“Elizabeth.” Ilara stepped forward to give Mrs. Fuller a stiff, formal hug. “What an evening! You’ve outdone yourself, as always.”

“Oh, it was all Todd. He’s the best event planner I’ve ever worked with. A creative genius,” Mrs. Fuller gushed, and lowered her voice as if imparting an earth-shattering secret. “Wait until you ladies see what he’s planned for the Hudson Conservancy Ball. It’s just beyond! You’re both coming, of course?” she added, almost an afterthought.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Ilara said with a smile. Leda knew her mom was secretly dying for someone to ask her to help plan benefits like that, but no one ever did. Five years upTower and they still thought of her as new money.

Mrs. Fuller turned to Leda. “And, Leda, how are you doing? I’m sure you’re looking for Avery, though I have to say I’m not sure where she is …”

With your son, Leda thought viciously, though she just nodded.

“Oh, she’s right there! Avery!” Mrs. Fuller snapped, in a tone that brooked no argument. Leda remembered how Avery had always called it her general’s voice. “I found Leda for you. We were just talking about the Hudson Conservancy Ball.”

Leda watched as Avery forced a smile and walked over from where she’d been talking to some of their parents’ friends. “Leda, you look amazing. Are you having fun?” she asked, her tone betraying none of what she must be feeling. But Mrs. Fuller wasn’t even paying attention anymore; she’d drifted off with Leda’s mom to another group, leaving the two former best friends alone.

“Oh, I’m having just the best time,” Leda said caustically.

Avery sank into one of the chairs at the edge of the room, the ethereal tulle of her skirt fluffing around her like a little gold cloud. It was as if her entire being were deflating, now that their audience was gone. “I’m not in the mood right now, Leda.”

For some strange reason, Leda found herself sitting in the chair next to Avery’s.

“What are you doing?” Avery asked, evidently as surprised as Leda was by her actions.

Leda wasn’t sure. Maybe she just wanted a break from the party, too. “Old habits die hard, I guess,” she replied, but it didn’t have quite the bite she’d intended.

They sat there in silence for a while, watching the swirl of false laughter and deal-making and schmoozing, all of it softened by the gentle glow of the lanterns.

“I’m surprised you’re even here.”

Avery’s words startled Leda, but she quickly rallied an appropriate response. “And miss that Dubai announcement? I wouldn’t dream of it!”

She wasn’t sure what kind of reaction she’d hoped to get—some sort of dramatic lashing out, in sadness or even anger—but whatever it was, she didn’t get it. She didn’t get any reaction at all, really. Avery just sat there in complete stillness, her hands clasped in her lap, her long legs crossed. Was she even breathing? She looked like she was carved from stone. Tragic Beauty, a sculptor would have named her, and called it his finest work.

Leda felt suddenly grieved for the both of them, that they were sitting here in pale, pained silence, surrounded by the broken fragments of their friendship. And at a party. It was pathetic. She plucked a sangria off a passing tray. Just try stopping me now, Mom.

“You’re right, I’m sorry I came. It was a mistake.” It was so much easier to focus all her anger on Avery when they were both at school; when Avery was her usual cool, perfect self. Seeing how fragile she was beneath the veneer, it was a lot harder to hate her.

Avery looked up, and the girls stared quietly at each other, the air thick and heavy between them, almost stifling. For some reason, Leda refused to be the one to turn away. She just held Avery’s gaze, daring her to react.

Avery was the first to break. “Enjoy the party, Leda,” she said, and walked off.

Leda drained the sangria and abandoned the empty glass on a side table. She thought about what Avery’s mom had said, about the Hudson Conservancy Ball. She hadn’t been planning on going, but now she wanted to, to prove a point. She wanted Avery to know that it didn’t bother her—seeing her like this, in the context in which they used to be best friends.

She wondered if Avery would bring anyone as a date. Probably not. After all, what was she going to do, come to the party with her brother? The last person Avery had brought to anything was Watt, and look how that had turned out.

Leda was struck by a sudden idea. What if she brought Watt to the gala? He might prove useful, with that computer of his—maybe he even had a way to communicate with it remotely, dig up intel for her in real time, on Avery and Rylin and anyone else dumb enough to get in Leda’s way.

And as an added bonus, it would look like she’d stolen Watt from Avery. Everyone remembered meeting him at the University Club party with Avery, and now they would see him on Leda’s arm, paying attention to her. For once, it would seem like a boy had chosen Leda Cole over the flawless and untouchable Avery Fuller.

She smiled, pleased with the notion, even as a dark, hateful part of her whispered to herself that it wouldn’t be real. After all, Watt wasn’t actually choosing her. Leda would have to force him into coming, blackmail him the way she blackmailed everyone in her life lately.