The boat bumped against the dock, and I accepted the hand of a waiting staff member who escorted me to land. Flickering lanterns lined a trail to the house, which rose up out of the darkness, a turreted beacon ablaze with lights. It had seven bedrooms and seven en suite baths. Tonight, only the “VIP” crew was in attendance—somehow my parents had convinced them to come—and we each had our own room. Not that it will keep Adam and Deena apart. My stomach knotted at the thought of seeing them again—of seeing them together—but I gritted my teeth and marched up the path. Bernard followed, on guard to keep me from running.

As if he could stop me.

Tomorrow night, when the shore was packed with up-and-coming Influencers, I was supposed to pretend to get drunk on the yacht and accept a speedboat ride from a handsome stranger. Allard said I’d know him when I saw him. Part of me wondered if she’d been disconnected too long—everyone in attendance would be beyond gorgeous, and I wasn’t sure I’d recognize him—but I trusted she was right. The plan was for us to have an “unfortunate” boating accident and disappear. He’d make sure remnants of our boat washed up on shore, along with my shoes, before we slipped away on bikes he had hidden in the woods. Simple. There would be a manhunt, and my parents would have the lake dragged, but my body would never emerge. The media would speculate, but eventually my parents would make sure I was believed dead. I could count on that. It was in their best interest. The world would eat out of their hands as they mourned my loss. I was tying everything up in a neat little package for them.

Except, apparently, they had their own ideas.

When I arrived in the foyer, the celebrity-event planner greeted me. “Your friends are in the game room,” she said. “You’re to join them. I’ll make sure your bags are placed in the master bedroom.”

Two sweeping staircases spiraled up to the second floor. I already knew what the upstairs looked like, having watched my friends tour the house via their live Network feeds while I was on the boat. They’d gone offline only a short time ago, so the real party was just beginning. “I’d prefer the turret room,” I replied. “It seems fitting for a prisoner, don’t you think?” And I’m sure Adam and Deena will claim the master.