The same day
12:30 p.m.
In truth, Garrett Mitchell Hartley’s home was an Italianate villa nestled high on a hill. It overlooked the small but affluent town of Saratoga, California along with the rest of Silicon Valley.
Once admitted by the guard at the security gate, Ally’s mile-long drive to the villa on the top of the hill gave her a view of its amenities: basketball and tennis courts; an Olympic-size pool with two cabana houses; a three-hole putting green; a vineyard climbing up the hillside.
And yes, there was a helicopter pad.
Where had he made his money? Ally chided herself for not having taken the time this morning to research him.
Maybe it’s best that I don’t know, she told herself. It may only make me despise him all the more.
By the time she parked her car in the cul-de-sac in front of the home’s vast triple doors, her heart was palpitating wildly. After even allowing herself an extra half-hour to maneuver the clogged expressway between her place and his, Ally was dismayed to get there with only a minute to spare. To calm herself, she nudged the mirror embedded in her visor to check for makeup smudges. Thank goodness she saw none—quite an accomplishment, considering the number of times she felt close to tears at the thought of what was about to happen. She wore her dark curly hair in a demure chignon. Looking at it now, she wondered, is it too formal?
Why the hell do I want his approval so badly?
No—I don’t want his approval. I want him to regret missing out on my life.
She smiled at her reflection in the mirror.
Then she sauntered to the front door.
The butler’s route to her final destination seemed circuitous at best, and ostentatious to a fault. The gold-toned walls of the ballroom-sized rooms were covered in modern art. The furnishings were mostly antiques, but with a few eclectic contemporary pieces thrown in. Despite such opulence, one felt as though they had entered a private sanctuary.
It’s too contrived, Ally decided.
Finally, she was led into a paneled study.
From what she could tell, no one sat in a high-backed chair behind a desk. In fact, there was so much light flowing through the double-atrium window behind the massive mahogany desk that at first she didn’t see the man sitting on a settee, set back in an alcove that enjoyed a dazzling view of the valley below them.
When her eyes finally alighted on him, he rose to greet her. He was a very tall man: tanned, square-jawed, with a shock of silvery white hair. He was dressed casually: jeans and a long-sleeved charcoal T-shirt.
She felt overdressed.
She waited for him to extend his hand in greeting. When she took it, he hesitated a moment before leaning forward in order to kiss her cheek.
She shivered.
He frowned. “My people have set up a buffet on the sideboard, there.” He pointed to a large credenza laden with a large salad bowl, cut fruit, and sandwiches. “But first, let’s talk. Please, have a seat.”
She lowered herself onto the settee.
He took the straight-backed chair beside it. “You have questions.”
“Many. Let’s start with the obvious one: are you my biological father?”
“Yes.” The word seemed to be heaved out of him, as if it were a boulder he had to spit out.
“Were you married to my mother?”
He shook his head. “No, never.”
“Did you want to be married to her?” Did you want me?
“It was never an option.”
“For you, or for her?”
He sighed. “By mutual consent.”
I don’t believe you.
“But you were there, at our house. I remember you,” she insisted.
Garrett shrugged. “Yes, I visited occasionally.”
Ally took a deep breath. “Was it consensual sex?”
His eyes darkened with anger. “If you’re asking me if I raped your mother, the answer is no.”
“Let’s cut to the chase. What was your relationship with my mother?”
He winced. “It was…complicated.”
Ally stood up. “I didn’t come here for a game of Twenty Questions. You know what I’m asking.”
“And if I tell you, you’ll…” He hesitated. “You’ll jump to the wrong conclusion.”
Ally’s laugh was mirthless. “Trust me, Mr. Hartley! Nothing you can say can make me think any less of you than I do right now.”
He leaned back as if she’d slapped him. “I get that.” He frowned. “I don’t blame you.”
“Why would you?” she stalked the room. “You created me. You abandoned me. You invited me here to tell me—” Ally stopped cold. “What is it you want to tell me?”
“That...” He looked away. “That I’m glad you reached out. That I know you did well for yourself—without me.”
“You’re lying,” she whispered.
“No, I’m not,” he insisted.
“Yes, you are! As of this morning, you haven’t thought about me in years, if you’ve thought about me at all.”
He glanced away.
“Yeah, right, that’s what I thought.” Ally picked up her purse and headed for the door.
“Ally, wait!” he pleaded. “Okay, you’re right. In my mind, I’d…I had put you on the backburner. Out of sight, out of mind, right?”
She stopped. Turning around, she growled, “Fuck you, Daddy Dearest.”
“Yeah, I know I sound cruel. I’m an asshole. Ask anyone who knows me.” Garrett shrugged. “I usually don’t give a damn. But our situation—it goes without saying, it’s different.”
“Nah. Not buying it,” Ally muttered.
“I mean it! Ally, honestly, I respect what you’ve done—more so because you’ve done it on your own.”
“How do you know what I’ve done?” she asked warily.
“Get real! You don’t think I’ve kept my eye on you all these years?”
“And yet, you never reached out to me.” She shook her head at this revelation.
What a son of a bitch you are.
“You want an apology, don’t you? And maybe I owe you one.” He shrugged. “But here’s the reality check: not every man makes a good father. Just like not every woman will be a great mother. People may have similar experiences, but everyone responds differently. It’s what makes the world go ’round.”
“You don’t say!” She clicked her tongue in mock shock. “And to think that all this time, I thought it was love.”
“You have your mother’s sense of humor.”
Her scowl softened at that.
Noting this, he added, “But you have my head for business. It’s quite impressive, what you did with Foot Fetish. And now, with Life of Pie…” He whistled softly. “It’s going to be even bigger.”
She shrugged. “Am I supposed to perk up with pride because Daddy paid me a compliment?”
“Save the preening for what I have to say next.” He leaned in. “I want in.”
“Just what is that supposed to mean?”
“I want to invest in Life of Pie—to help you take it national.”
“It already has an investor: Collins, Acworth, and Markham.”
“They’re notorious for underfunding, and getting skittish if they think one of their unicorns has lost its horn.” He shrugged. “How much are they funding you for?”
“For the details, you’ll have to speak to my broker, Brady Pierce.”
Garrett smirked. “You mean your boyfriend, don’t you?”
“Before he was that, he built one of the hottest start-ups in Silicon Valley history,” she declared. “If you want to make an offer, you can start by calling him.”
“I’d rather work with you,” Garrett insisted.
“Why? Because you think you can soften me up by pulling the daddy card?”
He shook his head. “Just the opposite. The best thing I can do to make amends is help you build on your success.”
“I wish I could believe you, but as you just pointed out, as recently as this morning I was a not so pleasant reminder of your past.”
“Ally, if you let me, I can help you secure your future.”
“I get it. You’ve got money to burn. But I’m not a charity case.”
“Good, because I don’t give to charities. And I don’t buy companies that are losers. Don’t take my word for it. Ask Brady if I mean what I say.”
Ally frowned. “How would he know?”
“Because I gave him the seed money for BuyNowOrNever.”
Ally felt her jaw drop open. Brady had never mentioned Garrett to her.
Then again, he hadn’t known the name inside the envelope provided by Francesca Upton.
“Sure, I’ll ask him.” She started for the door. “It’s getting late. I have to pick up my daughter—”
“Zoe.” He nodded. “I’d like to meet her sometime.”
Ally smiled. “She’s not for sale, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Garrett shrugged. “You know firsthand that my track record with kids is lousy. On the other hand, every company I ever bought has tripled in value.”
“At least you’re good at something,” she replied.
He grinned at that. But whatever he had to say next was halted by a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he declared.
A young woman—twenty years old, if that—entered the room. She wore her long blond hair in a high ponytail that accentuated her razor-sharp cheekbones. She was slim, toned, and tanned. No doubt, her tight pink tennis dress wasn’t just for show.
So, I have a half-sister, Ally realized.
Obviously, the woman was just as curious of Ally as Ally was of her because her limpid blue eyes never left Ally’s face, even when Garrett exclaimed, “Darling, is your match over so soon? Well, at least you got here in time to meet Ally before she takes off.”
Pouting, the woman cocked her head to one side. “Had I known she wasn’t staying, I would have canceled my match altogether.” She held out her hand. “Zelda.”
Ally knew she should take it, but the shock caused her to pause. When finally she did reach out, she murmured, “Garrett hadn’t mentioned you’d be joining us.”
Zelda clicked her tongue at him in mock dismay. “Typical!” she exclaimed. Still, she wrapped her arms lovingly around his neck.
Garrett showed his annoyance with a grimace. Yet, when he disentangled himself from her, he made up for it by kissing her cheek. “You can start nibbling. I want to walk Ally out.”
Zelda nodded and then sauntered to the sideboard.
Neither Ally nor Garrett spoke on the long march to the foyer. As he opened the front door, Ally finally found her voice. “When were you going to tell me that I have a half-sister?”
He stared at her. Laughing uproariously, he replied, “Zelda? My God, no! She’s my wife.” He shook his head gleefully. “Tell Brady to call me tomorrow.”
Before she could respond, he shut the door.
No! No way am I doing business with that man! No way—
Unless he pays through the nose for the privilege.
But, in her heart, she knew that no amount of money would ever even the score.
1:42 p.m.
“Why haven’t they called?” Bettina’s question was legitimate despite her childish pout.
Brady and she had stopped for lunch at Belga on Union Street. Because it was the first Monday of the New Year, like the rest of the street, the restaurant was practically deserted.
That was fine with Bettina. She hoped no one she knew saw her with the boyfriend of her frenemy, Ally Thornton. Otherwise, they’d wonder if she (a) was asking him for money to tide her over until Art’s debacle was forgotten, or (b) had set her sights on one of the most eligible bachelors in town, despite his recent disentanglement with the PHM&T member he was supposedly married to, and his current involvement with another of the club members.
Brady sighed. “There’s nothing to worry about, Bettina. This is par for the course.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “You see, no one calls when they promise. They want us to gnaw our fingers to the bone right before we walk into the Beidecker meeting, and then kiss the hems of their skirts for giving us half of what we asked for.”
Bettina frowned. “We’re not going to do that…are we?”
“Hell, no!” Brady chuckled as he grabbed the last French fry off Bettina’s plate. “We’re going to tell them that we’re just about to walk into Beidecker’s conference room, so it’s put up or shut up time. Full amount, deposited in the bank account within twenty-four hours.”
“Oh.” Bettina let that sink in. “But…what if they call our bluff?”
Brady looked at his watch. “We call Beidecker and lie; something about a jumper on the bridge tying up traffic.” He grinned. “Then we hope he looks at Google traffic, realizes we’re lying, and presumes we’re leaving another meeting that went well.”
“I see now why they call you a budding wunderkind at this folderol,” she murmured.
For the first time since her pregnancy, she wished she could drink.
Brady patted her hand “I meant it when I told you I thought you were wonderful in the meeting.”
“If you’re insinuating I should give up the club—”
“If the app gets funded, that is exactly what you should do”—he hesitated, then added—“unless you can play nice-nice with the other mommies and spread the blood, sweat, and tears of running it.”
Bettina scowled. “You’ve been talking to Lorna—or Matt, which is exactly the same thing.”
“Believe it or not, your brother gives sound counsel.”
Bettina shrugged. “Sure—when it is beneficial to his wife.”
Brady snorted. “In what way would your success benefit Lorna?”
Bettina’s eyes narrowed. “If I were too busy to run the club, she’d finally have it within her grasp. I’d be out, and she’d be in. Case closed.”
He leaned in. “Tell me the truth. Which would you rather run: a successful tech business and the money that comes with it? Or that mommy-and-tot club, and all the hassles that come with herding a bunch of anxious women and their children?”
“Those ‘anxious women,’ as you so callously put it, are the mothers of our country’s next generation of leaders. What they get out of PHM&T is the assurance that they are the best and the brightest, that their children will make lifetime friendships, and will be collectively nurtured so that they have no doubts about their abilities—”
His slow claps stopped her mid-sentence. “Brava,” he murmured.
“Why are you being so obnoxious?”
“Because it’s obvious to me that you don’t just make the Kool-Aid, you drink it as well.”
Bettina stood up. “How dare you!“
Brady yanked her back into her seat. “I ‘dare’ because I believe in you. I’m your business partner, for God’s sake! You got me excited about the Bum Free Zone app. Hell, you had Abe, Olivia, and Zeb salivating over it! Bettina, for once in your life, don’t sell yourself short!”
She sat still for a moment. Finally, she muttered, “I never have.”
“Sure you have. When you settled for Art, you thought you could do no more than play the role of socialite and arm charm. Then you started a club so that you could feel superior to other women in your predicament—”
“Not all women want to enter the business world, or for that matter, be mistresses of the universe,” she countered. “Some of us just want to raise our children in a happy, nurturing environment.”
“Art made you happy, did he?” Brady argued. “Sure, ‘happy homemaker’ is writ large on some women—Lorna, for example.”
“Would you put your Jade in that category?” Bettina asked. Seeing him wince, Bettina smirked, “I thought not. Nor your Ally. Nor Jillian Frederick.”
“Jade, Ally, and Jillian could take it or leave it,” he assured her. “However, if the BFZ gets funding, my guess is that you’ll take what AOZ has to offer and never look back.”
Before she could retort, Brady’s cell phone buzzed.
He stared down at it. “It’s Olivia.”
Bettina felt the breath go out of her body. It didn’t flow back in until after Brady answered his phone, greeted Olivia almost too robustly, and listened intently, all the while grinning broadly. “Yes, Olivia, we were just now crossing the bridge…turn around? Give me a very good reason why we should…All of it? Well then, yes, we’ll pull over on Alexander Avenue and turn this car around.” He gave Bettina a jubilant thumbs-up. “Have your attorney call mine to start the paperwork. It’s Barry Simon.”
Hearing Barry’s name, Bettina rolled her eyes. But she waited until Brady hung up before muttering, “Your attorney is your girlfriend’s faux husband? My, my! What an incestuous life you lead.”
“Barry isn’t just my attorney. He’s yours as well. And when all is said and done, you’ll be glad he is. He’s one of the industry’s best dealmakers.”
Bettina shrugged. “I guess one doesn’t have to like one’s attorney in order to retain him.”
“One only has to pay his very expensive retainer,” Brady assured her. “Speaking of lawyers you love to hate, how are things going with that Warwick guy?”
Bettina frowned. “I haven’t heard from him since…since New Year’s Eve. I think he’s figured out that I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”
Brady laughed. “I swear, he didn’t hear it from me.”
Bettina rolled her eyes. “Glad to hear it. Even so, there are others more than willing to bend his ear on the evil doings of Bettina Connaught.”
“In a month or two, it won’t matter what others say. You can laugh all the way to the bank.”
Bettina winced. “Speaking of banks, what are the chances that I can get an advance on my shares, or however money changes hands in the BitCoin era?”
“BitCoin?” Brady shook his head. “Bite your tongue! But seriously, Bettina, it would be better if you could bide your time until everything is signed, sealed, and delivered. I’m guessing a month, tops.”
She did the math in her head. Today was the sixth of January. The auction was on February fourteenth. It would be tight, but still doable.
Bettina nodded stoically. It's Art's last Valentine's gift to me, she thought wryly. Play it cool.
He signaled their waitress. “I’d say this calls for a glass of champagne, don’t you?”
Bettina shrugged. “I don’t know… Okay, I guess a sip won’t hurt the baby.”
In truth, she was thrilled, but she refused to demean herself by revealing that simple fact. Finally, she could support Lily and herself without dipping into the Connaught largesse.
Just as importantly, she could tell Art to get lost—and never come back.
When the champagne came, she tapped her glass against Brady’s with such alacrity that he chuckled, “Here’s to our mutual success, partner!”
By the time Brady dropped Bettina on Lorna and Matthew’s doorstep, she was floating on a cloud.
Euphoria faded at the pinging sounds coming from her cell phone. She glanced down at it:
Twenty-two texts!
All were from Mallory Wickett.
Talk about buzz kill.
She held off ringing the front doorbell in order to read the first of Mallory’s missives:
Lorna put it to a vote! Men are now allowed to attend the meetings! Blasphemy! Insanity! Apocalypse!
What the…?
Bettina slammed her fist on the door until it opened.
Lorna stood there. She was holding a bottle for Dante.
“How dare you,” Bettina hissed.
Lorna’s shoulders sagged. “I take it you heard from one of the other club members that a vote was taken to—”
“One member? My phone hasn’t quit buzzing!” Bettina glared at Lorna. At this point, lies didn’t matter. It was all-out war. “First, you twisted our arms to accept single women and working women! We have so many women that the damned club is now a free-for-all. And now we’re accepting men too?” She shook her finger in Lorna’s face. “What precipitated such madness on your part?”
“As it turns out, two of the mothers who couldn’t make the meeting sent their men in their stead,” Lorna explained. “Not only were they welcomed, a few of the members thought to ask if a vote could be taken to allow spouses or significant others to periodically substitute—just substitute, mind you!—in cases of extreme emergencies. That way, the children would not miss out.”
“And you allowed the vote to take place without asking me first?” Bettina shouted.
Lorna’s eyes narrowed. “Bettina, you chose not to come. Remember?”
Bettina crossed her arms under her chest. “And just which members would even deem to suggest such an aberration?”
Lorna shrugged. “It was Kelly. Frankly, I thought it was insightful on her part.”
“You’re right about that,” Bettina declared. “Everything Kelly does has a purpose, I can assure you!”
“Mummy? What’s wrong?” Lily came running in from the living room. “Are you ill? Is that why you didn’t pick me up from school?”
“Me…Ill? No! No, dearest! I just needed…” Bettina could feel Lorna’s eyes scrutinizing her. “I needed to have the morning to myself, is all.”
Lorna raised a brow. “And because of this new club rule, anytime in the future you feel the need to take time for yourself, you can appoint a surrogate to cover for you, either with Lily, or the infant that will soon be joining us.”
Before Bettina boiled over again, Lorna added, “Lily, get your coat and school bag, dear. I’m sure your mother is looking forward to taking you home.”
Instead of saying goodbye, Lorna walked down the hall and into the nursery, shutting the door behind her.
When Lily came back, she had Matthew with her. He waited until the little girl ran out the door before growling to Bettina, “Lorna is covering your ass at the club—and I’m covering your ass with her. So lay off.”
Before Bettina could reply, he slammed the door in her face.
She repositioned her lips from a scowl to a smile before following Lily down the block.
He was sitting on the top step of Eleanor’s front portico.
Not Art, thank God, but Daniel Warwick.
By his frown, Bettina could tell something was bothering him.
Oh, Hell! They caught Art.
Oh, my God! If Art told him he visited me while Daniel was in the house, and I let him just walk away—
She’d be hauled into the jail cell next to him.
And they’d toss away the key.
My poor baby would be born in prison—and then they’ll take him away from me!
And Lily…
At the thought of her daughter’s reaction, Bettina almost fainted.
Seeing her stumble, Daniel ran to her. Holding her in his arms, he exclaimed, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Gently, he walked her to the steps, easing her onto the very first one. He then sat beside her.
Lily hovered close enough to pat her mother’s head.
“Lily, why don’t you take your mother’s key and open the door?” Daniel spoke casually, so as not to frighten the little girl. “If you could pour her a glass of water, I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”
Bettina fumbled in her purse until she found her house key.
Lily took it and was inside in a flash.
He turned to Bettina. “Listen, before she gets back, I have some bad news.”
“I’m listening.” So that she didn’t have to look at the sadness in Daniel’s eyes, Bettina looked down at her belly.
“As early as Saturday morning, we had satellite confirmation that Art was at a villa in a high-end Cancun resort,” Daniel explained. “The owner listed on the villa’s property deed is the Connaught Trust.”
“That’s absurd!” Bettina exclaimed. Noting his grimace, she added, “Mr. Warwick, if you’re insinuating that any of the Connaughts are involved, or that we knew about this—this secret lair of my ex-husband’s, let me assure you that no Connaught has ever stepped foot in Mexico.” She shuddered. “Too hot! We Connaughts have delicate skin, or haven’t you noticed?”
He sighed “Bettina, trust me, I assumed as much, since the signature on the deed was Art’s, and he was notated as the trustee.”
Bettina nodded her satisfaction.
“I also needed to inform you that immediately, our people asked the Mexican government for extradition.”
“Huzzah! I commend your hard work on his victims’ behalf—myself included,” Bettina smirked.
He ignored that. “Bettina, there was a shootout at the villa. Apparently, it was a kidnapping that went off the rails.”
Bettina shook her head in awe. “Someone tried to kidnap Art?”
Daniel nodded. “Unfortunately, any intel Mexico gets about wealthy foreigners—especially those who are hiding from their own governments—seems to find its way to particular mob cartels. It’s made ransom into a very lucrative side business.”
“I don’t have the money to get him back!” she exclaimed. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t spend a plugged nickel on that idiot!”
“At this moment, it may be a moot point.” He glanced away. “What I’m trying to tell you, Bettina, is that…well, Art may be dead.”
Thank goodness, he was there to catch her when she fell.
Gently, he sat her up again. This time, though, he cradled her in his arms. “Bettina, until we get ahold of the corpse, for DNA analysis, we won’t know for sure.” He shrugged. “And from what they’ve told us, it’s in pretty bad shape, along with those of his guest.”
“Guest?” Angered, Bettina looked up. “Let me guess: his blond Swedish floozy was with him.”
“Yes,” Daniel admitted.
“Well then…I guess it’s over.”
“Soon.” Softly, he stroked her arm. “Of course, the embezzled funds are still missing.”
Bettina’s heart took a lurch. She fought the instinct to grasp the key on the chain around her neck.
Hoping she sounded nonchalant, she asked, “Does your offer for a reward still stand?”
Daniel tilted her head up so that he could look her in the eye. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”
“If you’re asking me if I know where Art hid the money, I’ll swear on a Bible right now that the answer is no,” she declared.
He frowned. “Then why would the reward interest you?”
“Because I’m in dire straits, and I want back what is mine—without it going to auction,” she retorted.
“I see.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, I can’t bend the rules. Not even for you. But, as I said before, anyone coming forward with the whereabouts of your husband–”
“Ex-husband,” she growled.
“Oh?” he smirked. “I hadn’t heard that the divorce was finalized.”
Bettina stood up, if only to stamp her foot in frustration. “Daniel, don’t be such a—a stickler!”
“You’re right, Bettina. I do and always will stick to the letter of the law. And if you have any knowledge of Art’s stash, you should be doing the same.”
“Why? Because it’ll earn me a pat on the head?”
“No. Because you owe it to those he stole from—including your mother.”
Bettina felt the heat rise in her cheeks. But before she could retort, Lily’s voice piped up behind them: “My mummy doesn’t lie…at least, not anymore.”
Bettina and Daniel turned to the little girl. “We have a pact. From now on, she only tells the truth.”
“Very honorable,” Daniel acknowledged. “Please then, ask your mother if she has any information regarding your father or the money he stole.”
“Mr. Warwick, she already gave you the answer. I heard her myself.”
At her daughter’s declaration, Bettina felt her cheeks heat up.
Daniel knelt beside Lily. “What else did you hear us say?”
Tears clouded the little girl’s eyes. “You told her that my father is dead.”
Bettina ran to Lily’s side. Taking both her daughter’s hands in hers, she murmured, “Darling, I know how hard it must be for you to hear that—”
Lily pushed her away. “Mummy, please…don’t! I know how he hurt you. I know how people hate him. I—I’m glad he’s dead.”
She ran inside, slamming the door behind her.
Bettina glared at Daniel. “You’ve delivered your message loud and clear. I think it’s best you go now.”
As she passed him, he held her arm. “Bettina, I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”
“No need. Everyone has a right to hate Art. Even Lily.”
He nodded. “And you, in particular.”
“You don’t see me crying, do you?” She pulled away. “I know it will be difficult, but on your next assignment, try to make a concerted effort to keep your suspects’ wives from falling in love with you. They will have been hurt enough, as is. If that isn’t incentive enough, at least consider your vow to quote unquote, ‘stick to the letter of the law’—unless the Department of Justice’s handbook has a chapter on how to seduce them.”
Before he could say another word, she walked into the house, closing the door behind her.
Lily had locked the door to their bedroom. She could hear her daughter sobbing.
Bettina’s own personal pity party took place in her old nursery. It lasted a half-hour. As she watched the sailboats crisscross San Francisco Bay, a thought came to her:
I wonder if there’s a way to trace the key back to the right safe deposit box?
Just in case.
In case the Bum Free Zone app went nowhere.
In case the Connaughts somehow found themselves tossed out of house and home, onto the mean streets of San Francisco.
Heaven knows, Matt’s ability to make money has always been hit or miss, she reasoned. The key could be my own little insurance policy.
She prayed she’d find the answer before the auction. Otherwise, she’d lose control of the club as well.
Depressed at the thought, she teared up again.
To stop from thinking, she curled up in her old bed and fell asleep.