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Alma looked down at her phone. A message from an unknown number glowed on the screen: “The past doesn’t stay buried in the garden, Alma. It’s sitting at your dinner table.”

was pacing, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She knew too much about the arguments overheard in the powder room. Alma looked down at her phone

stood at the center, her face a mask of cold perfection. She straightened her silk dress, her eyes darting toward the balcony. She was the queen of this compound, and queens didn't let scandals ruin their reign. She knew too much about the arguments overheard

Only an hour ago, a body had plummeted from the balcony of a nearby penthouse. The scream was still ringing in Alma’s ears—a jagged sound that sliced through the laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses. Now, the flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers danced across her white marble walls. She was the queen of this compound, and

In Episode 11, the veneer finally begins to crack. Detective Rami isn't looking for a tragic accident; he’s looking for the person who gave the final push.