“Can we discuss this in private?” he asked as he neared, glanced at the guards, and ushered her back in, where he motioned everyone to leave. He closed the door and leaned his back against it, but the creaking sound made him ease off. The air came out of his lungs with a whistle. “Let’s calm down first, both of us.”

She had already decided that she would act more dignified than at their previous meeting, when he must have seen her as a capricious, curl-tossing, foot-stamping, nostril-flaring Scarlett O’Hara.

He waved a finger at her. “I have no idea what you want now. Mauriello has pulled off the agreement. You got the baby. There will be no second chance.”

“I don’t trust the Chinese to keep their end of the bargain. A demonstration against me? What’s this muscle show for?”

Ashford shook his head. “They have their ways of doing things. It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that you be a good girl and stop causing trouble. Too many people are pissed off at you. There isn’t much sympathy you can draw on—”

“I have public opinion on my side,” she said calmly. “All over the world. You’ve said so yourself.”

His voice was steely as he said, “If I were you, I’d lower my confidence level a couple of notches. Public opinion is a matter of manipulation—as you should know. It may sway drastically in the other direction once certain facts about your past come out—”

“My past? How dare you?”

“All gloves off in a war you’ve started.” His hand patted the pocket of his jacket as though searching for his pipe. “Didn’t you burn your baby sister? And then there was your parents’ accidental death—was it something to do with a gardening project you were in charge of? The FBI has all the information.”

The blood drained from the roots of Nola's hair as a wave of incredulity filled her. To mask her emotions, she bent to place Lulu on the carpet and handed her oversized plastic keys to chomp on. How easy it was to twist the facts. It had been a struggle to forgive herself. The world would be far harsher. She and Wade had long debated opening the subject to public scrutiny, and realized that the questions would never be put to rest, regardless of her explanations. Interrogation would mark every interview. Even the silence—accusing, denouncing—would haunt her with every retelling. She could already imagine the article a Globe reporter would pen after speaking with Jenna: “My Big-Star Sis Burned My Face.”

So much for staying at the top. This China tour would be her short sojourn to the top rung before dropping off the edge.

“I can’t believe that my government is threatening my career,” Nola said. “An orchestrated leak of vicious rumors generated by the beacon of democracy? At least the Chinese don’t pretend.”