"You're not going anywhere," Georgina said, plucking the crown from my head like she was removing a bug. "Give it back," I said, reaching. My fingers were wrapped in gauze and dried blood, but my voice did not shake. Georgina laughed. "You think this crown proves anything? We planted it on your head for the cameras. You were never supposed to move beyond the dressing room." "Plant what? What are you talking about?" I stepped back and stood on my bad hand to steady myself. "Stop pretending," Edward said from the doorway. He kept his hands in his pockets. "The engagement was changed. The photographs will reroute donations. Georgina brings better returns." "You're lying," I said. Margaret's smile was small and practiced. "We told you once, Fiona. Settle for less. Take the charity post. Let Georgina manage the public marriage. She has the connections we need." "That's not—" I tried to close for Georgina. She placed the crown on the vanity and moved away as if I might cough on it. "Stop it," I said, and pressed the palm of my wounded hand flat against my ribs because the pain flared when I breathed wrong. A tall guard at the door straightened. Two more filled the corners like elevator doors closing. "Where is my ring?" I asked. Georgina flicked a strand of hair and shrugged. "It wasn't yours to begin with. Our photographer staged the reveal. We took your place in the engagement shoot." "You