“But now I want to tell you—you were wrong.”
She crouched down and propped her phone on the stand in front of her.
The camera caught her full figure. White dress, white sneakers, draped in a men's jacket several sizes too large.
“An outsider can be plenty capable.”
“And once an outsider has that kind of capability, the two people inside that marriage won't even know how they died.”
She turned and walked away, took two steps, then glanced back at the camera with a little wave.
“Oh, right. Mr. Sanchez asked me to pass along a message: buy your own train ticket home. Economy class will do. It's not like you're anyone important, right?”
She'd tacked on a string of smug, taunting emojis at the end. My blood boiled.
I turned off the phone, closed my eyes, and let myself imagine exactly how they'd have to go down before I'd feel satisfied.
At the celebration banquet, Brent showed up with Marian at his side.
She blinked at me, all sweet smiles.
“Georgina, aren't you surprised to see us here?”
“Mr. Sanchez and I really owe you for this project. We couldn't have won it without our little warm-up act.”
She leaned into those last words. *Warm-up act.* Let them land.
“Here. Let me toast you.”
I didn't take the glass.
Her hand hung in midair, wine trembling faintly in the stemmed glass. Sensing the awkwardness, Marian let out a soft sigh and put on a wounded expression.
“You don't think my toast is beneath you, do you? Well, I suppose that's fair. Look at who you are, and look at who I am.”
She pulled the glass back and took a delicate sip herself.
“I'll just drink alone, then.”
She ran her tongue across her lips—savoring it, every last drop pure provocation.
“This wine is lovely, by the way. I heard Mr. Sanchez brought it back from France himself. Only two bottles.”
“One was opened tonight to celebrate. The other——”
She paused, letting a sugary smile spread across her face.
“He said he's saving it for when we celebrate later tonight. Just the two of us.”
Brent walked over and clinked his glass against hers. “Marian, a toast to you.”
Every partnership, every contract, every signature on that deal—mine. And the two of them had the shamelessness to waltz in and claim it at the celebration banquet.
But this time, I was going to show every person in that room that Georgina Fox was not someone you could push around.
I let out a cold laugh, turned away, and made a call.
“Tell every investor they have ten minutes to pull their funding. If they don't, they're making an enemy of the Fox family.”
I lifted my gaze slowly and added one more line.
“And of me personally.”
