Ghania had no intention of making friends. She'd lived long enough to know people. This girl ... Every sentence came with a performance—coy looks, fake sighs, and practiced charm. Not the kind you can trust. She frowned, decided to get to the bottom of it, then kicked the woman out. "All right, tell us about your place. Do you know who it was? What did they want?" Wilona rubbed her lower back, turned to Harold, and pouted playfully, "Ow, Harold, that was too rough—my back's killing me!" Then, she put on a grin and sweetly said to Ghania, "Mrs. Dunn, let's sit and talk. My back's killing me." Without waiting for an answer, she flounced over and dropped onto the couch. The other three exchanged looks and sat too, but kept a safe distance. Ghania made a point of sitting between her son and this woman. Olivia stared at Wilona. "Start talking. What happened?" Wilona answered offhandedly, "Someone got into our yard, peeked in from outside the window, and scared me. I screamed and they ran." She'd cooked up that story just to stay and chat with Harold—didn't expect it to land. She still wasn't sure if anyone had really been in her yard. She didn't know, either, that whoever had been there had watched her and Frederick's ... performance. Harold looked at her. "How did they get in, and how did they get out?" Wilona blinked. That specific? Her mind flashed to her high garden wall—too tall to climb—and she'd already said the person ran when she shouted. They couldn't have flown out. So, she said, "I forgot to lock the gate. They slipped into the yard, and when I screamed, they pushed the gate and ran out."The three of them exchanged glances and said nothing. Wilona went quiet, nervous—had they seen through her? Then, she thought: no cameras, no proof. Whatever she said would stand. She straightened up and shot Harold a flirty look. Harold frowned. "Is there something wrong with your eyes?" Wilona froze, a bit embarrassed. "No ... " Harold kept watching. "You look like there's something wrong with your eyes." Wilona was utterly speechless. Ghania, stifling a smile, edged closer to block Wilona's gaze toward her son and asked, "What did this person look like?" Without thinking, Wilona replied, "I didn't see clearly." Olivia snapped, "You said you were startled—how did you not get a clear look?" Wilona pouted. "I was nervous! And I'm kind of bad with faces. I don't remember faces well. Um ... maybe thick lips?" Olivia frowned. The woman who scaled walls had been wearing a gas mask—how could Wilona have seen lips? Ghania gave Wilona a loaded look. "You couldn't remember the face, but you can remember the outfit, right? Even if the face's fuzzy, the overall impression should be clear." Wilona thought a moment, then offered a safe, bland description, "They were dressed plain—medium height, average build." She paused and added for emphasis, "It was a woman." After she said it, she felt pleased with herself. If the three took her for that thief, the thief had to be a woman. Her answer was perfect.The other three glanced at each other. This little celebrity was clearly making stuff up. Aside from getting the gender right, everything else was wrong. Of course, it could still be a gang—maybe the intruders at the two houses weren't the same people. Harold thought for a moment. "Did you hear any noise coming from our yard?" Wilona thought hard and shook her head. "No." This time she wasn't lying. The villa's soundproofing was great, and Frederick had cranked the music loud to set the mood—Wilona didn't hear the alarm from Villa 5. Harold watched her for a long beat, then lost patience. He looked to his mother. "Should we kick her out? She's got nothing useful to say." Ghania nodded. "Do it." Wilona was shocked. "What are you doing?!" Who shows up, cuffs someone, and then just tosses them out? Rude. Harold was already up, ready to drive her off. Olivia rose too, to help. Wilona felt so wronged. She'd never been treated this way—she hadn't done anything to deserve it. Why would they be so cold? On the verge of tears, she pleaded, "Harold, Mrs. Kingston—please don't do this!"