Amelie frowned as she peered through her binoculars. Her ex-family's estate was surrounded by a fifteen-foot stone wall and the yard itself was liberally populated with trees, shrubs, and various gardens. That made it a little challenging to spy on. The tree she perched in helped raise her vantage point so she could see over the wall, but there were still a lot of blind spots.

Still, she was able to make out the occasional guard dressed as a groundskeeper. Her father believed in hiding his people in plain sight, and every one of his people, from the maid to the cook, was a very capable bodyguard. With a history as long and shadowed as the van Rovensil's, taking such measures was a must.

Growing up, she had thought that it was normal to have cleaning staff who could just as easily stab you as they would mop the floor. She remembered one of the cooks telling her how to identify symptoms of various poisonings and how to treat them. It wasn't the type of conversations adults generally had with nine-year-old children, but Amelie hadn't thought much of it.

Then there was a time when a lost hunter trespassed on the yard and got apprehended. She had watched how they trussed him up in zip-ties and duct tape and held him for hours while he sobbed and pleaded to be let go. Eventually, her older brother had sent her out of the root cellar where they'd been holding him. She never did find out what happened to the poor man, but her brother had told her they sent him on his way, whatever that meant. Amelie, at the time, just thought that was standard protocol with suspicious strangers. Surely everyone had a root cellar to keep unwanted guests?

It wasn't until she spent some time in the outside world that she began to understand just how abnormal her family truly had been.

Frowning, Amelie lowered the binoculars, her lips pursed in thought. This little scouting trip wasn't exactly as fruitful as she'd hoped. But she did confirm that everything looked the same as it did years ago, which was about what she expected. Either way, she was going to have to infiltrate the estate.

It was a good thing she had a couple of ideas on that already.

She climbed down the tree quickly, jumping the last several feet. Her boots hit the soft ground and she briefly steadied herself with a hand against the tree trunk. The forest she was in didn't exactly have a name, but it was as old as the estate itself. As a child, she'd snuck off into the forest multiple times to play, until the one time she got lost and spent a terrifying night in a tree. She'd never ventured into the forest again after that.

Until now.

It took her nearly an hour to backtrack through the forest, using the GPS on her phone to make sure she went in the right direction. Eventually, Amelie could hear the traffic coming from a road nearby, which meant she was finally at the end of her long hike.

She walked out of the line of trees and onto the road There was her rental car, parked on the shoulder a hundred yards up the road.

Then she frowned. There was another car parked behind it: a sleek black Lamborghini of all things. The sight of it made her briefly consider walking right back into the forest, because the kind of people who tended to drive such cars were usually insufferable rich heirs.

The only reason she didn't was because she was parched and her extra water was sitting in her car. With some reluctance, she walked up the side of the road, her gaze tracking over the sleek rich-people car.

The driver's side of the black car opened and a rather ordinary man stepped out. He was young, somewhere in his mid to late twenties, and he wore black slacks and a white button-down shirt like he'd just come from a business casual meeting. This surprised her, because he didn't look like an arrogant rich brat.

His hair was dark and slightly wavy, his face clean-shaven, and despite his tidy appearance, he was rather... plain. In fact, there was absolutely nothing remarkable or memorable about him, except for the fact he drove a Lamborghini.

He smiled faintly as Amelie approached.

"Hi there."

"Hi," Amelia slowed, but only because he was standing in her way. She eyed her rental car just past him.

"I'm guessing this is your car?" he asked, gesturing to her rental. He had the elegant fingers of a pianist. Why she noticed that, she had no idea. Maybe it was because he was pointing at her car, where she wanted very much to go to.

"Yes."

She made to go around him, but he moved to block her. Her eyes narrowed. "Is something wrong?"

"No. I just stopped because I saw an abandoned car. Wanted to make sure everything was okay."

Ah, a good Samaritan. She didn't know those existed when it came to rich heirs. What an absolute unicorn, this guy.

She put on a fake smile, not even bothering to try and hide her irritation. "Well, everything's okay. Thanks."

"You sure?"

"Very. I just had to stop for a bathroom break, if you must know."

"With binoculars?" He nodded to the pair that hung around her neck.

Amelie's smile tightened. "I decided to go for a little walk afterwards. Do some birdwatching. Why, is that illegal?"

"No, not at all. Sorry." The man raised his hands and stepped back. "It's just that not many people go into this forest, that's all. I'm glad everything is okay."

"Hm."

She walked past him and went to her car. Maybe it was a little rude to ignore him like that, but it was also rude of him to be so nosy. Even if he was trying to be nice. But she was tired and thirsty and frankly, Amelie had very little love for rich heirs. Her brother was one, after all.

Once she was in her car, she glanced in the rearview mirror. Nosy Rich Unicorn was leaning against his black Lamborghini, watching her. He waved, as if knowing she was sneaking a look at him.

A scowl twisted her features. She started her car and soon pulled back onto the road.

Rich heirs were the worst.

***

A shopping trip, some internet searches and a few discrete phone calls later, Amelie had a plan. Once a week during the summer months, the van Rovensil estate had a delivery of fertilizer from the local greenhouse. With as many gardens as the estate had, it took an astronomical amount of TLC and cow poop just to keep all the flowers and greenery looking fresh.

It was surprisingly easy to make sure she was the one doing the delivery. A trip to the cleaner that looked after the uniforms for the greenhouse—an ugly green overall deal—had gotten her a uniform. She changed into it in a mall bathroom, pulling her dark hair back into a bun. Then she got out her make-up kit.

Amelie hated make-up. Most of the time she couldn't be bothered to use it, because she didn't care about how she looked. It seemed like a waste of time and effort, especially when she had no one to impress. But she couldn't deny its uses, and now she spent a few minutes contouring and darkening her face. She gave herself a bronze tan, making sure to do her neck, hands and forearms as well. She created the illusion of a wider nose, added freckles and thickened her eyebrows. Dark contacts changed her eyes into an even darker, almost black shade. When finished, she jammed a ball cap on her head, pulling the peak of it low.

A look in the mirror showed that she looked like a different person. She took out a piece of gum and chewed it, narrowing her eyes while grinning at her reflection.

"Well, look at that," she drawled, using a southern accent. "Not half bad, huh?"

She shoved her make-up supplies into her bag, slung it over a shoulder, and strolled out of the bathroom with a heavier, slightly bow-legged gait. By the time she reached the local greenhouse, she had settled comfortably into her new identity. The biggest part of convincing people that your disguise was legit came from confidence.

When she strolled into the greenhouse grounds, no one stopped to question her. She even nodded a greeting at another worker who was watering the outdoor plants. The delivery truck was in the back, and it was already loaded up for the delivery. Amelie didn't hesitate. She went over to the passenger side and climbed in.

The driver, an older woman with a permanent frown, paused and looked up. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry," Amelie flashed a charming smile. "They told me to go with ya. First day on the job and all."

The woman stared at her, brows creasing deeply. "I really don't think-"

"Name's Hannah," Amelie cut in, her tone open and friendly. "What's yours?"

"I—it's Gertie, but—

"Well Gertie, I'm really glad to be here. Y'all seem like such nice folks here. Why, last summer job I had, everyone walked like they had sticks up their rears. Talked like it, too!" Amelie snickered, and then pointed at the clipboard that Gertie had on her lap. "So where are we going? I'll put it into the GPS for you while you drive."

The other woman continued to frown, but Amelie saw the moment that Gertie gave in. The older woman relaxed and set the clipboard down between them.

"No need. I've been there enough times that I know where I'm going."

Amelie nodded and kept up a stream of small talk as Gertie started the truck and hit the road. By the time they turned onto the highway, Gertie was responding. It didn't take long for Amelie to learn that Gertie was very knowledgeable when it came to growing things, and even more, loved to talk about it. The older woman was no longer wondering who Hannah was, but instead, explaining about the different types of fertilizers.

When they made the turn off the highway and onto the long, winding road that led to the van Rovensil estate, Gertie had completely warmed up to 'Hannah.'

"These people are a bit strange," she confided to Amelie, "but they know what they're doing. I've never seen such a gorgeous yard."

"Most rich people have really nice yards," Amelie pointed out. She watched the forest fly past her window, and tried to ignore the fluttering of her nerves in her belly. "They pay people to make it look good."

Gertie chuckled. "Not like this. You'll see what I mean."

The road curved, and they reached the first checkpoint. There was a gate across the road, complete with a guy in a security booth. Gertie pulled up beside it and rolled down her window.

Inside the booth was a grim-faced man in a black uniform. Amelie didn't recognize him. Not that she expected to, as eight years was a long time to be away, but a part of her was worried about running into a familiar face.

"Good afternoon," Gertie greeted him. "We're from the Evergreen greenhouse with a fertilizer delivery."

The security guard looked them over, his gaze briefly resting on Amelie, before giving a curt nod. "You're expected. You may proceed. When you arrive, do not exit the vehicle until you've been given the all clear."

"I know the drill," Gertie reassured him.

He didn't bother answering. Instead, he pushed the button that opened the gate. Gertie drove through.

"They take their security seriously," Amelie remarked, although inwardly, she was already expecting it. The man in the security booth would no doubt be radioing in their arrival, complete with license plate and descriptions, to the security team at the estate.

This was where things got a little tricky. It had been eight years, but the men her father employed were dangerously sharp. The risk that they would recognize her was just as high as her own father recognizing her, if not higher. They were trained to memorize faces and traits. She could only hope that the guards were new, and that her disguise was enough if they weren't.

"A lot of the old families do," Gertie responded. "A lot of it is probably tradition passed down the years. They practically have their own little culture separate from the rest of us."

"Hm." Amelie glanced at the older woman, a little impressed.

Gertie wasn't wrong. Her family was perhaps a little worse than the others when it came to being old-fashioned and conservative. Marriages were arranged, for one thing. Women held little power in the family, for another. Amelie had grown up knowing that her best bet was to marry into a more open family, where she could live a comfortable life.

In a way, being evicted from the family had been a blessing. It had just taken her a few years to realize it.

It didn't take long before they reached the main gates of the estate. There were four security guards, and one of them came out to Gertie's window. She rolled it down. The guard peered into the van, his expression pleasant, but his eyes were sharp.

"Just the two of you?"

Amelie kept her chin slightly tucked so the brim of her cap shadowed her face a little. She kept an openly curious look on her face though, her hands relaxed on her lap. So far, she didn't recognize any faces, which was a very good thing.

"Yes," Gertie said. "From the Evergreen greenhouse."

"Can I see your identification, please?"

Amelie held her breath. This was where she'd have to rely on Gertie. There'd been no time to get an id forged.

"Of course, here." Gertie picked up a laminated card from the center compartment and passed it over to the guard.

He looked at it, glancing at Gertie's face, before passing it back. Then his attention settled on Amelie.

"What about you?"

Amelie pretended to be confused, and she looked at Gertie for help. "I didn't... get one yet? It's only my first day."

"Oh shoot, I should have thought of that!" Gertie exclaimed. She gave the guard an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I can vouch for her. She's–"

"Hannah Edens," Amelia drawled. She added a winning smile. "I'm a college student."

The guard merely regarded Amelie closely. "Give us a moment, please."

He then returned to the guardhouse, where he was no doubt doing a quick search for a 'Hannah Edens.' They'd find her, too. A college student in a small community college who was working towards a social worker's degree. There was, incidentally, only a very bad copy of her driver's license on file, but Amelie had done her best with the make-up to create a similar look.

Sure enough, when the guard returned, he gave her a polite smile.

"Do you know your student id number?"

Amelie blinked, pretending to look surprised. "I, well, yes." She rattled off the number.

Nothing showed on his face. "And what are you studying?"

"I'm going for my social worker's degree. One of my friends was in foster care, and I wanted to help people like her." She shrugged. "There's not enough people who care, y'know?"

"That's very admirable," he said, though there wasn't any real interest in his tone. He was just confirming information, and she must have satisfied him, for he waved them on through. "All right, you can go ahead. Next time, make sure you have your id."

"I will," she promised. As Gertie drove them through the gates, Amelie sighed loudly. "Man, that was intense. I had no idea they needed all that stuff! He looked like he was ready to shoot me on the spot!"

Gertie chuckled. "He wouldn't have done that, Hannah. It's only part of their security. We'll just make sure you have your id before you come again."

"Right." Amelie agreed readily, although there wouldn't be a next time. Because Hannah was going to disappear as soon as the delivery was done.

The gates closed behind them, and Amelia found herself looking at very familiar grounds. As they approached the estate buildings, her heart gave a little wrench.

Home sweet home, she thought.