Chapter 2

The Hall Family would cover it.

Every part of that party came out of a Young Family account. The hotel deposit, the stage, the guest favors, and the liquor the Hall Family brought in to look generous.

I took out my phone and called our finance office.

When the call connected, I put it on speaker.

"Freeze every unpaid item under the Hall Family name tonight. No final payment on the reception, no final payment on the apartment, and hold the investment for the Hall Westside Development."

Finance didn't ask anything. They only said, "Understood, Ms. Young."

The answer went over the Hall family like a bucket of ice water.

Grace's eyes changed immediately.

Nathan went stiff for a second.

He remembered then what the Hall Family needed most, which was money.

The Westside Project had dragged on for half a year. The banks were pressing, the suppliers were at the door, and the shareholders were shouting to pull out. The Young Family released the first payment only because I said yes.

The engagement party was the Hall Family's way of settling everyone down.

And he had kicked the one person he needed to keep happy off the table, and walked a sponsored student up there instead.

If brains sold for money, the Hall Family would have gone under years ago.

The staff had already started taking down the light strings.

The ring of lights swung twice before somebody lifted it off the frame. The gauze came down, and the lanterns went out one after another.

Somebody in the crowd finally moved. Nathan's uncle, Joseph Richard, came over fast and tried to talk me down in a low voice.

"Vivian, young people have misunderstandings, and talking clears them up. It's Thanksgiving and the whole family is here. This doesn't look good."

I looked at his fat, shining face.

I said, "Your son ran up a million dollars in gambling debt last month, and I covered it. One more word and I'll have his creditors join you for dinner tonight."

Joseph's lips moved, and he didn't dare say anything else.

Nathan stared at me with fire held down behind his eyes. "Do you have to go this far?"

I tore the rest of the invitation into pieces, and the scraps landed on his polished shoes.

I sneered, "This far? Nathan, you made me watch a mistress in training take my place at my own engagement. I only took down the stage. I didn't break your bones. Call that my holiday charity."

His eyes went cold. "Joanna isn't a mistress."

I nodded, smiling. "Fine, she isn't. She's the relative you grew overnight for Thanksgiving, and now the whole family has to seat her at the head of the table."

Joanna's tears finally came.

She looked at the mess on the floor, and her voice shook.

She said, "Nathan, forget it. I'll go. I shouldn't have come. Someone like me gets a holiday wrong by showing up at all."

She turned to leave, but her feet went slowly, waiting for somebody to stop her.

And Nathan stopped her. "You don't have to go."

Then he turned to me, and his tone went hard, as if he were nailing down the last of his pride.

"Vivian Young, if you don't want this engagement, fine. But don't come back regretting it."

I picked up my bag and walked past him.

I said, "Regret? You should worry about whether the Hall family can pay for this circus tomorrow."

Half the stage was already down by the time I reached the door.

The ring of lights lay on the carpet with the strings trailing out of it, like a snake somebody had skinned.

I stopped and looked back. Joanna was still behind Nathan, and Grace was comforting her quietly, as if she were the one who had been wronged all night.

I told the hotel manager, "Break those two lanterns on the stage."

The manager froze.

I kept my voice flat. "They're dirty."

The glass hit the floor and broke with a clean sound.

Joanna flinched.

Nathan's face couldn't have gotten any worse.

I didn't look at him again. I walked out across the light and the broken glass.

The noise of the guests followed me out the door.

I sent the driver my location and then sent my assistant another message.

[Tell the planner, the hotel, and the designer that anything added under Nathan Hall's name goes on a separate bill. From tonight, the Hall Family and I have no shared budget.]

My phone buzzed.

My assistant wrote back at once: [Received.]

I stood at the hotel door and looked up at the moon.

It was full that night.

It was a shame that Nathan's brain looked like something a dog had chewed on.

Nathan came running out when I got back to the car.

Joanna was behind him with his suit jacket over her shoulders, and she had stepped on her own hem and dirtied it. She looked up at me the way people looked at a dog that had already bitten somebody.

The driver was about to close the door, and Nathan put his hand on it.

He said, "Get out."

I leaned back in the seat and looked at his hand.

I said coldly, "Move it."

He didn't move. "Vivian Young, we need to talk."

"About what?" I looked up. "About which page of the Hall family tree you're pasting Joanna Reed onto?"

Nathan's expression dropped hard.