Page 172 of The Next Lie

Ever enters behind him. “Who is hosting?”

“Isabel Rosario,” Nash says.

Ever’s face goes still.

I look between them. “It’s her, isn’t it? Mother Superior?”

Deacon appears in the doorway to the library like the house summoned him from a wall.

“Yes,” he says.

I look back at the invitation. The card feels heavier in my hand, with its fancy, raised black letters. The cypress seal. The polite language wrapped around a threat.

Isabel Rosario. Mother Superior. The woman who called me a mistake. One who needs to die—again.

Shiloh looks at the card again. “A masquerade. Very subtle.”

Deacon takes the invitation from Shiloh and studies it. “Beauregard House is hers.”

“Is it open to the public?” I ask.

“Through the foundation,” Nash says.

“Her foundation sounds fake.”

“It is.”

“Nice.”

Ever’s attention is on the front windows. “This is a summons.”

Nash nods once. “Dressed as an invitation.”

“Should we decline?” I ask.

Every man in the hall looks at me. The answer is obvious before anyone says it.

Shiloh’s voice is lighter than his eyes. “I could wear a mask and pretend to be Nash.”

“You are several inches shorter,” Nash says.

“I would compensate with personality.”

“No one would believe I had one.”

Despite everything, a laugh jumps in my throat. It dies fast.

Cal walks in from the kitchen wiping his hands on a towel. He takes one look at all of us and stops. “What now?”

I hold up the card.

He reads it over Nash’s shoulder, and his face goes ashen in a way I do not like.

“Absolutely not. Not happening.”

“Cal,” I say.

“No.”