When I'd asked Uncle Thomas to trace where Clement's twenty million dollars went, I'd had him look into the Glass family while he was at it.
Constance and this security chief Ronnie had been carrying on for quite some time. Poor Clement had no idea—he actually thought he'd hit the jackpot with her.
The moment Ronnie saw that Constance had been slighted, his temper flared.
"Trying to run a scam in our Central Tower? She's got some nerve!" He jerked his chin toward the hallway. "Get her to the security office. Lock it down. Don't let her slip out."
A handful of brawny guards swarmed me, seizing both arms and wrenching them behind my back.
"Let go of me!" I thrashed against their grip.
But sheer physical strength won out. They hauled me down to the first-floor security office, half-dragging, half-shoving me the entire way.
The door slammed shut behind us.
Ronnie shoved me hard.
My feet tangled beneath me, and my knees cracked against the concrete floor. My forehead struck the marble edge of the front counter. White-hot pain burst through my skull, and blood seeped down from my hairline, warm and slick against my temple.
The agony radiated through every nerve. I sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth.
I'd grown up wrapped in silk and comfort. I had never been handled like this in my life.
A guard pressed down on my shoulders, pinning me in place.
Ronnie picked up the desk phone and dialed, his voice dripping with sycophantic charm.
"Hey, Manager Lambert! It's Ronnie. We just nabbed a scammer down here on the first floor—forging rent-due notices for the tower."
"I've got her locked up in the security office. Want to come down and handle it yourself? Great, we'll be waiting!"
He hung up and turned toward me with a wolfish grin.
"You blind little tramp. You actually had the guts to mess with Miss Glass?"
With someone backing her up, Constance grew bolder than ever.
"Cecily Summers, what do you think you are? You had the nerve to investigate me? Who gave you permission?"
Her foot drew back, aimed straight at my ribs.
Bang! The door swung open, and a procession of executives in tailored suits filed into the room.
Leading the way was the head property manager of the entire building—Kieran Lambert.
Beside him walked Rufus Finch, the CEO of the very investment bank that had just extended Clement an offer.
Ronnie hurried over to greet them.
"Manager Lambert! Mr. Finch! I'm so sorry to drag you both down here for something this minor!"
He jabbed a finger toward me, still pinned to the floor by the guards.
"That's the lunatic who forged the rent notices! You two should really look into this. Can't let her off easy!"
Clement and Constance chimed in right on cue.
"That's right, Manager Lambert. Don't let her go!"
Lambert frowned and followed the direction of Ronnie's pointing finger.
But the moment his gaze landed on me—kneeling on the concrete, blood still trickling down my forehead—every drop of color drained from his face. He stood frozen, as if lightning had struck him where he stood.
Beside him, Rufus Finch's eyes went wide. He drew a sharp breath.
Lambert's whole body trembled.
"M-Miss Summers?"
Finch's voice shook just as badly.
"Ms. Summers?"
