Gemma pulled the door open and stepped out of the study.
Katelyn was pacing the carpeted hallway, chewing her lower lip raw.
She rushed forward the second she saw Gemma. “Did he yell at you? Are you okay?” Her eyes crawled over Gemma’s face, hunting for tears.
Gemma casually tapped the tablet in her hand. “I just got ten percent of the family trust.”
The mask of concern on Katelyn’s face cracked clean open. The muscles around her mouth twitched violently.
“How… how could you possibly get trust shares?” Katelyn’s voice pitched up, sharp and entirely out of bounds for a mere friend.
Gemma looked down at her, eyes flat and cold. “Since when is my family’s money any of your concern?”
Katelyn’s breath hitched. She dropped her gaze instantly, biting her lip harder, forcing a look of wounded innocence.
Gemma didn’t wait for an apology. She walked past her, heading straight for the powder room at the end of the hall.
Katelyn waited until the footsteps faded. Her hands balled into fists, nails digging into her palms until the skin nearly split.
She darted into a small utility closet across the hall and pulled the door shut.
She dug into the lining of her purse and yanked out a cheap, prepaid burner phone. Her fingers shook as she dialed.
“Mom.” Katelyn’s voice was a strangled hiss the second it connected. “She didn’t run. She just took ten percent of the company.”
Miles away, Donia Bruce sat up so fast she knocked a bottle of essential oil off her massage table. Glass shattered against the tile.
“Calm down.” Donia’s voice was tight as a wire. “It’s a fluke. She’s an idiot.”
“She looked at me like she wanted to kill me!” Katelyn’s chest heaved. “She’s not acting like herself.”
“Then we move to Plan B.” Donia’s voice went ice-cold. “Ruin her tonight. Make sure the Hubbard boy sees it.”
“How?”
“Use the artist. Tell her he’s going to kill himself. Get her down to the side entrance where the paparazzi are grouped.”
A dark, venomous light sparked in Katelyn’s eyes. “I will. She’s going to lose everything.”
Katelyn ended the call. She took a deep breath, staring at her warped reflection in the metal surface of a mop bucket. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a soft, supportive smile.
She pushed the closet door open and stepped out.
Gemma was walking back down the hall, adjusting the heavy diamond necklace.
Katelyn hurried over and gently linked her arm through Gemma’s.
Every muscle in Gemma’s body screamed to snap the girl’s neck. She forced herself still. She noticed the fine sheen of sweat on the bridge of Katelyn’s nose, the too-bright glint in her eyes.
“Gemma.” Katelyn’s voice trembled perfectly. “Jair is freezing out there. He’s waiting in the rain just to see you one last time.”
Gemma kept her face blank. She hadn’t gone far. She’d leaned against the wall just a few feet away and caught the muffled vibrations through the door—the suppressed, frantic pitch of Katelyn’s voice. “Plan B.” “The Hubbard boy.”
She stopped walking. She let her shoulders slump slightly, manufactured a look of deep, painful conflict.
Katelyn saw the hesitation and pounced. She shoved her own phone into Gemma’s hands. “Look. He sent a suicide note. He’s going to end it if you don’t come.”
Gemma stared at the screen. The pathetic, manipulative texts made her stomach churn.
“What do I do?” Gemma made her voice small and fragile.
Katelyn’s eyes gleamed with suppressed triumph. She pointed toward the grand staircase. “Go to the side door by the media pit. He’s hiding behind the hedges there.”
Gemma gave a slow, hesitant nod.
She lowered her lashes, hiding the absolute bloodlust burning in her pupils. The trap was set.
