I watched her smile and another part of me—the last part, a tiny part, the only part living, that being the part that was my love for my sister which I thought reciprocated the love she had for me—died.

I did not let this show.

I was a practiced hand at that too.

The rest of our business wasn’t nearly as much of a roller coaster ride, and when it was concluded, she left.

I wondered about Bali.

Or Fiji.

Or Timbuktu.

But in case they had someone following my browser history, I did not turn to my computer and do searches.

I’d learned.

I breathed but I did not exist.

This would always be the way.

The thing was, I wanted that way to be somewhere else so, even if I only breathed, I did it in a place I breathed easier.

One thing I learned from my sister and Nick Sebring was how to play the long game.

I would not go tomorrow or next month or maybe even next year.

But I’d go. Patient. Smart. I’d go.

Worried she’d try to find me, I’d never breathe free. Georgie had proved even more than Dad that she had no intention of letting go an asset she could use, an asset she thought was hers.

But maybe someday in the far distant future, I’d breathe easy.

And in the meantime, it was clear she was turning her full attention to Nick Sebring.

That was not my business.

He could take care of himself.

I never breathed easy.

But just the thought of my soulless sister deciding it was time to take care of that particular threat…

It was a wonder I could breathe at all.

* * * * *

11:13 – That Night

I stood in my great room, staring out the front windows, the old burner phone I used to use when I called the club in my hand.

I’d looked up the number in the phonebook. That way, no one could trace the search.

I’d memorized it.

I shouldn’t do what I was thinking of doing.

I couldn’t not do it.

I looked down at the phone, punched in the numbers and put it to my ear.

It rang four times before I heard a woman answer, “Slade.”

There was dance music in the background—not loud, muted. She was in an office at a nightclub.

Knight Sebring’s nightclub, Slade.

“I’d like to speak to Knight Sebring,” I stated.

“Mr. Sebring doesn’t take calls through this line. You have to talk to his PA, Kathleen, during normal business hours. I’m sorry, but if you don’t have her number, it’s difficult to get to him.”

This meant she wasn’t giving me Kathleen’s number.

“Tell him it’s Olivia Shade.”

“Ms. Shade, it’s unlikely—”

I cut her off.