Page 4 of Murder on the Upper East Side

She gave Madison, Elle, Theo and Bash a small wave and turned to follow Oliver down the aisle.

‘Oliver Morgan,’ Bash called out before they’d gone far. ‘Don’t believe I saw you at the club this summer. Guess your membership was denied, yet again.’

Uh-oh.Oliver’s back stiffened, but before she could ask what he’d done to offend the royalty of Prescott, he guided her to their seats.

‘Ignore them.’ His voice was tight, his cheeks flushed red.

She opened her mouth to ask, then thought better of it.

‘I heard a rumour you might be joining us this year,’Oliver said, a deliberate bid to change the subject. ‘The comments have been popping.’

‘Comments?’

‘On the latest post.The Upper Edge?’

Her eyebrows arched.

Oliver continued. ‘It’s a gossip account run by someone at Prescott. People send DMs,The Upper Edgespreads the stories. The whole school is a bit obsessed. You’ll see.’

Right. The Instagram account Ami had been drooling over this morning. Guilt flooded Hannah’s chest. She’d barely given her little sister a second glance after they’d arrived at the gates.

Resolving to check on her after first period, she took her seat and turned to Oliver. ‘Comments aboutme?’

Oliver nodded, curly blond hair bobbing and boyish dimples creasing his cheeks. The latest model iPhone, in a custom CASETiFY mirror case, rested on his knee. He switched on the screen and opened Instagram. Below a post displaying the Prescott fountain were a series of comments speculating about the identity of the two newest transplants to the Upper East Side – scholarship students Hannah and Ami Miller.

‘Unbelievable,’ she muttered. Truly, who cared?

Mr Harris tapped the mic and the room fell silent. Oliver flipped his phone face down. For the next ten minutes, they listened to an oration on new policies for the new year, brief introductions to each senior seminar teacher, and a discussion of the kinds of topicsthat would land you a place at Harvard or Yale – and those that would send you to community college. As Mr Harris rattled off the room assignments for each seminar group, a flurry of low whispers rippled across the Kingsley Room. Were her fellow students really that invested in their classroom locations?

Hannah looked up from her lap, where she’d been studying her nails. They needed a trim. All around her, phones were out, heads were bent low and students were murmuring.

‘What’s happening?’ she mouthed to Oliver.

‘New year, new drama.’ He tilted his screen towards her.

6 September 2016

Instagram

Image: Close-up of two clasped hands – the girl wears a Cartier love bracelet, and a Prescott cufflink flashes from beneath the blazer on the boy’s wrist.

TheUpperEdgeAt Prescott Academy, there are many wrong steps – and so many secrets. In fact, I just caught wind of a secret so dark and deep, it could smash one of Prescott’s most iconic couples to smithereens.Ifit ever got out.

I have some fact-checking to do, but I’ll be back. I promised you an unforgettable year, didn’t I?

Watch this space, boys and girls.

2Friday, 12 June 2026

Ten years later

Prescott Academy’s 100 Year Anniversary Gala was to be hosted at the Lenox Club, the elite, members-only establishment founded in 1896 by Augustus Willem Lenox, Sebastian Beaumont’s great-great-grandfather. What began as a private, men-only salon for bankers, foreign dignitaries and future United States presidents was now a boutique hotel and supper club hidden behind an unmarked wrought-iron gate on East 73rd Street.

A quarter of the way into the twenty-first century, membership to the Lenox Club was now open to women (rarely), and its Bordeaux-trained chef peppered the otherwise traditional menu with an occasional sashimi course or house-made gnocchi, but not a lot had changed in 130 years. Brass keys were still used in lieu of cards. The ten guest rooms on the second floor were still bare of televisions and USB ports – in fact, the club eschewed a digital presence altogether.No website, no online bookings, no cameras, no smart devices allowed on the premises. No exceptions.

Until yesterday, Hannah Miller had planned to give the Lenox Club and her alma mater’s anniversary gala a wide berth. She’d kept in touch with precisely zero members of her graduating class, save for Oliver Morgan, who she could grab a coffee with anytime. They both lived downtown, they both worked in media – Hannah was a writer forCulture Vault, a well-known politics and culture site, and Oliver was doing well for himself as a YouTuber with a channel focused on luxury real estate and personal brand building. Hannah didn’t entirely get what her old friend was doing half the time, but he’d made a real name for himself in the lifestyle space, and she was happy for him.

But then yesterday morning, a text from her boss: