Chapter 2 2

The alleyway behind the hotel smelled of stale beer and rain.

Aisha leaned against the brick wall, her knees finally giving out. She slid down until she was crouching on the wet pavement, not caring about the ruin of her dress.

She pulled out her phone. Three missed calls from her father. Zero from Kelton.

She dialed Kelton's number. Her fingers knew the pattern by heart.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"You've reached Kelton. Leave a message."

Aisha squeezed her eyes shut. "Kelton," she whispered into the voicemail. "Please. I don't know what happened. I woke up in a hotel. I think... I think Gretta drugged me. Please call me back. I need you."

She hung up, hugging her knees to her chest.

A sleek black sedan rolled past the mouth of the alley. It slowed down as it approached the traffic light.

Aisha's breath caught. It was her father's car. The Bentley.

She started to stand up, desperate to run to it, to bang on the window and beg her father to listen.

But then the rear window rolled down.

Gretta's voice drifted out, sharp and clear in the morning air.

"Useless idiots. They didn't get a clear shot of her face."

Aisha froze. She shrank back into the shadows behind a dumpster.

"It doesn't matter, Mom," Cathie's voice replied. It was light, airy, amused. "The rumor is enough. 'Bartlett Heiress in Drug Scandal.' Daddy is already furious. He's talking about the morality clause."

"Good," Gretta said. "Once she's cut off, the trust defaults to the next of kin. You."

"And Kelton?" Cathie asked.

"Kelton is a pragmatist, darling. He's already agreed to release a statement distancing himself from her. He'll be announcing his engagement to you by the end of the month."

Aisha clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that clawed at her throat.

The light turned green. The Bentley purred and glided away, disappearing into the New York traffic.

Aisha stayed crouched in the filth for a long time.

Kelton wasn't just silent. He was in on it. Or at least, he had been turned.

And her father... her father was letting it happen.

She stood up slowly. Her legs felt like lead, but her mind was suddenly, terrifyingly clear. The shock had burned away, leaving behind a cold, hard rage.

She walked out of the alley and into a 24-hour diner across the street. She ignored the stares of the patrons as she marched into the restroom.

She splashed freezing water on her face, scrubbing at her skin until it turned red. She looked at herself in the cracked mirror. Her mascara was smeared. Her hair was a bird's nest.

She looked like a victim.

"No," she said to her reflection.

She pulled out her phone again and pulled up the PDF of her mother's trust fund document. She scrolled past the legalese until she found Paragraph 14, Section B.

The Morality Clause.

...in the event of a public scandal involving substance abuse or sexual impropriety, the Beneficiary shall forfeit all rights to the Principal...

But there was a sub-clause. Her mother, god bless her paranoia, had added a safety net.

...unless the Beneficiary can demonstrate a stable domestic partnership through legal marriage within thirty (30) days of said incident, thereby proving a commitment to rehabilitation and family values.

Marriage.

She needed to be married. Immediately.

But to who? Kelton was gone. Her social circle would be closed off the moment the story broke. No man in her zip code would touch her now.

She needed someone who didn't care about her reputation. Someone who needed something she still had-cash flow. Someone desperate.

Her mind flashed back to the hotel room. The towel. The stack of cash on the table. The way he had taken her three hundred dollars without hesitation.

Dominic.

He was handsome. He could pass for high society if he kept his mouth shut. And he was clearly in a line of work where money was the only object.

Aisha checked her bank app. Account Frozen.

Of course. Barry didn't waste time.

But she had a secret stash. Cash in her apartment safe. And jewelry.

She dried her face with a rough paper towel. She didn't have time to cry. She didn't have time to heal.

She had a business deal to make.