Chapter 6

Suddenly, there was a knock at the suite door.

The event organizer pushed the door open, looking even more pale than before.

"Ms. Hughes, the reporters downstairs are already asking about Ms. Grant's identity. And the seller's rep for Clearwater Estate just said that if the number seven tag drops out of the auction, they'll have to reconfirm everyone's eligibility for tonight's bidding," he said.

I pulled my hand free and slipped the number seven tag into my bag.

"Tell them number seven is out," I said.

The organizer looked stunned. "But what about Clearwater Estate?"

"If anyone wants to bid on it, they can do it themselves," I replied.

I turned to Sophia.

"Don't use my tag," I said.

Clearwater Estate ended up going unsold.

When the news reached the suite, Sophia's grip on her glass faltered, and water splashed onto her skirt. The hotel's backup dress was so thin that the wet stain spread quickly, making her look even more of a mess.

Her head hung low, and she didn't say a word.

Andrew stood at the window on a call, his back rigid. It was probably his assistant on the other end, and the voice came through in pieces. Investors had canceled, and reporters were already asking who Sophia was.

I sat on the couch, flipping through the files my secretary had compiled.

Sophia had been back less than a month and had already met three sets of investors. She wanted to relaunch the Grant family's old aesthetic space brand, and the Clearwater Estate villa was her first location.

That property sat in a prime spot, perfect for a high-end members-only art club.

If she'd taken it tonight with the Hughes Foundation's number seven paddle, with Andrew walking her to the head table on top of it, her funding round would have opened wide.

It was never about the dress.

What she really needed was an image that convinced people she was still worth their investment.

And Andrew handed her my status, gift-wrapped.

My secretary leaned in and whispered, "Ms. Hughes, the announcement is up on the foundation's website. The organizers have also removed Ms. Grant's partner info."

I glanced at the announcement.

The wording was restrained. It said the Hughes Foundation had not authorized any outside individual to bid on Clearwater Estate in its name, that a guest's identity had been misreported tonight, and that the foundation reserved the right to pursue the matter.

It didn't mention Sophia by name.

But nobody in that circle was stupid.

Tonight, everyone saw her sitting in my seat, and they all saw me go up on stage to pause the number seven tag.

Once that announcement went out, the people who'd been toasting her an hour earlier would say things ten times uglier than anything in it.

Andrew hung up and turned to face me.

"Take down the announcement," he said.

I handed the tablet to my secretary. "Get in touch with PR and keep an eye on the buzz."

"Claire Hughes," he said.

His voice was sharp, barely holding back his anger.

I looked up. "If you've got something to say, just say it."

"Sophia's project is already dead in the water. What else do you want?" he demanded.