We held no conversations about business inside the penthouse, only on the balcony or at a private restaurant. I’d hidden my phone in my closet where I hoped it wouldn’t be found. But I expected her to monitor my every move, body language, analyze my words, and search my few personal belongings when we were out. I studied every potential place for a camera to be hidden. The assumption kept me sharp—and alive.

Friday morning we drank dark-roasted Hacienda La Esmeralda coffee on the balcony. The remarkable taste spoiled me for any coffee I’d ever encounter again, and I imagined the price fell into the same category as the clothes and accessories.

Marissa had instructed me to wear an extremely short printed pink silk dress from Balenciaga with matching hot-pink leather sandals. “You select the jewelry, handbag, but no wig. I want to see makeup that complements the dress. Don’t outdo me, though. I have to be the one to turn heads.”

The voice of a true diva. “Are we having lunch?”

“Yes, with a business associate, and I will handle the introductions. You will say nothing unless spoken to. Later I’ll quiz you.”

Thinking quickly no matter the circumstances reminded me of being kids again. We used to play this game at the bakery when it bustled with business. “Ever the teacher,” I said.

“The difference is in the results of a win or a loss.”

Marissa still despised me. “Sister, I have no intention of losing.”

“Hope not. I’ve made an investment.”

“Expect a large return.” I shook my head. “Hey, why did you marry Travis? I never understood the mismatch.”

She laughed. “I first met Eli. And fell hard. He introduced me to the business world, but I needed more of a cover than the bakery. Dad wanted me to meet Travis, and I played the part.” She stared out over the bay. “He bored me, and his church-boy attitude was worse than Mom’s.”

“When did you break it off with Eli?”

“You’re good, Shelby. He bored me too, but I strung him along until I made contacts. I keep him on the payroll and occasionally toss a bone his way.” She frowned. “He’s made a few stupid mistakes lately, but you’re aware of those.”

Could he be Aria’s father? If so, she might feel obligated to keep him alive. “Another question—why live with Mom and Dad all those years? What a cramp in your style.”

“The absolute worse. My RA weekends helped. They adored Aria and put up with my complaining for fear I’d take her and leave. Truth is, I built my assets during those intolerable years.”

I leaned in. “Why the contract on my life?”

“It’s still out there.”

“Why?”

“You were worth more to me dead. Mom planned to ask you about what happened with Travis. She’d talked to Dad, but he refused to listen. I bugged her room and learned she’d requested all the public records on the case. Aria has the curious gene, and she questioned Mom about my preoccupation with other things instead of her. If I took off, the three would put it all together.”