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I stepped into my father’s luxury hotel gala in full military dress uniform, only for my stepmother to point her finger and snap, ‘Security, throw her out.’ My father just stood there, holding his champagne, without saying a word to protect me. But by midnight, after a single call to my lawyer, the hotel, the very land it sits on, and $24 million were legally back in my hands—and the woman who tried to humiliate me was outside my apartment, desperately pounding on the door.

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A record of questions she never had time to answer.

I looked up.

“What is the red ledger?”

My father didn’t know.

Celeste answered too quickly.

“Probably old accounting.”

I studied her face.

Fear.

Again.

Then my phone rang.

Elliot.

I answered on speaker.

“Mara,” he said. “Are you alone?”

“No.”

A pause.

“Who is with you?”

“Richard and Celeste.”

Silence.

Then:

“Do not continue reading …

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