Chapter 4

Sarah accepted her new role as Chloe Astor' s personal slave without a word.

The Hamptons estate was a monument to excess, and Chloe seemed determined to make Sarah' s stay a living nightmare.

Her first task was to sort Chloe' s massive, disorganized vintage jewelry collection.

"I need it cataloged by era, stone, and designer. By tomorrow morning," Chloe said, waving a dismissive hand.

Thousands of tiny, glittering pieces. Sarah worked for hours, her eyes burning, her back aching. She finished, just barely, as dawn broke. Chloe didn' t even look at the meticulous lists.

The next day, Chloe "accidentally" dropped a priceless heirloom earring into the muddy, frigid water of the koi pond.

"Oh, dear," Chloe sighed. "Sarah, be a love and fetch that for me, would you? Try not to disturb the fish."

Sarah, dressed in a thin cotton dress, waded into the icy water, the mud sucking at her ankles. She found the earring, her hands numb with cold.

Then came the birds. Chloe had a collection of exotic, screeching birds in a vast conservatory.

"They need their cages cleaned, Sarah. And be thorough."

Sarah had a mild feather allergy. She knew this. Chloe probably knew it too.

Within an hour, Sarah' s skin was itching, and a persistent, dry cough started. By evening, a red rash covered her arms. She tried to hide it.

Ethan visited once. He saw her red-rimmed eyes, her cough, the faint rash.

"For God's sake, Sarah," he said, his voice laced with annoyance. "Pull yourself together. Don't annoy Chloe. We need her... happy."

Happy. Sarah wanted to scream.

Finally, after days of systematic torment, Chloe seemed to tire of her game.

"You can go now, Sarah," she announced one evening, as if granting a great favor. "Ethan will be here soon. He can drive me back to the city."

A torrential rainstorm had started, lashing against the windows.

Ethan arrived. He barely glanced at Sarah.

"Chloe needs to get back. I'll drive her," he said. To Sarah, he added, "You can take the bus."

The bus. In this storm. Back to Manhattan.

Sarah nodded, her face impassive. She walked out into the driving rain, her cough worsening, a fever beginning to burn.

She finally reached Ethan' s penthouse hours later, drenched, shivering, and burning with fever.

The doorman looked at her with pity.

She stumbled into the silent apartment, her vision blurring.

She collapsed onto the sofa, her teeth chattering.

In her delirium, she called out, her voice raw with pain and longing.

"Mike... Mike, I need you... I'm doing this for you, Mike... please be okay..."

A shadow fell over her. Ethan. He was supposed to be with Chloe, or on his way to some business meeting.

He stood there, his face unreadable in the dim light, forgotten papers in his hand.

"Who the hell is Mike?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

Sarah, barely lucid, her mind clinging to the cover story The Program had drilled into her, mumbled, "Mike... my brother... my older brother... he died... years ago... tragic accident..."

Ethan stared at her, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. He seemed to consider her words.

Then, his face hardened. "There's medicine in the bathroom cabinet."

He turned and walked out, heading for his previously announced business trip, leaving her alone in the vast, cold apartment.