A pillow smothers the dying woman’s breath until footsteps approach. In a flash, the maid slips the oxygen tube back. The young wife’s tears fool him completely, until a silent whisper exposes the real monster.

At exactly 2:00 AM, the heavy, oiled hinges of the master bedroom doors creaked open with agonizing slowness. Serena slipped inside, dressed completely in dark, soundless silk. In her right hand, she gripped a medical syringe filled to the brim with a lethal, untraceable cocktail of powerful sedatives. She approached the massive four-poster bed with the silent grace of a hunting viper, her beautiful face twisted into a grotesque, arrogant sneer of absolute triumph as she raised the needle toward the frail figure shifting beneath the heavy down covers. But as she thrust the needle downward, the blankets were violently thrown back, revealing not the fragile Mrs. Vail, but a dense pile of carefully arranged, human-shaped pillows. Before Serena could even gasp, the massive crystal chandelier above blazed to life, flooding the dark room with blinding, inescapable light. Julian stepped out from the deep shadows of the adjoining parlor, his face carved from stone. Right behind him stood a private investigator, camera flashing, and two armed, uniformed police detectives. "The performance is officially over, Serena," Julian said, his voice echoing with absolute, freezing finality.