I thought—at the very least—she was on my side.

Instead, she'd handed them my last card.

I was done.

"I'm not playing anymore."

I turned to leave.

Isabel's voice cracked like a whip behind me.

"Leslie!"

"You walk out that door, and we're getting a divorce!"

I didn't look back.

"Then we're getting a divorce."

"I'm done being part of this circus."

The instant I pulled the door open, a chorus of screams erupted behind me.

I spun around.

Ramona had shoved the window open—I had no idea when. Frigid wind howled into the room, and she was already halfway out, her toes dangling over nothing.

In that moment, every drop of blood in my body ran backward.

"Ramona!"

"What are you doing?!"

The words ripped out of me, raw and ragged.

She turned to look at me. The wind had leached all color from her face, but her eyes—her eyes were steel.

"Dad, if you don't keep playing, I'm jumping."

My entire world tilted. Everything went sideways.

My first instinct was that she was bluffing.

Then she inched forward another fraction, and my knees buckled.

Isabel rushed toward me, panic splintering her voice. "Leslie, what project could possibly matter more than your daughter?! Just agree!"

Nicholas chimed in right behind her. "Leslie, I know you're angry, but the child is innocent. For Ramona's sake—can't you just bear with it?"

When I said nothing, Nanette shrieked, "How can you be so heartless?! If anything happens to Ramona, I won't want to live either!"

I looked at my daughter, suspended in the void beyond that windowsill, and a crushing wave of helplessness crashed over me.

"Fine. Fine!"

"Fine, I'll play! I'll play, okay?!"

The second the words left my mouth, I rushed over and pulled my daughter back from the window ledge.

"You foolish child!"

"How could you gamble with your own life like that?!"

She leaned into my arms and whispered, "Dad, trust me. Everything I'm doing is for your sake."

I looked down at her.

This was the child I'd raised, watched grow up from infancy—yet in this moment, I couldn't read her at all.

Could it be... she really did know something?

"Since Ramona's fine now, let's get back to the red envelopes. Mom, it's your turn."

Arnold hurried to prod his mother-in-law along, but my daughter stopped him.

"Uncle Arnold, I haven't sent my red envelope yet."

Arnold let out a laugh. "You're just a kid. You can't be part of this game."