The Game of Breaking Bones

The Belmont Grand Hotel blazed with light. Every person of power and influence in the city had heard the news: tonight was the night Julian Ashford would officially return to the fold, and the Ashford-Sterling engagement would be announced.

I didn't take the Holloway family's Rolls-Royce. Instead, I changed back into my faded old jacket and took a cab to the hotel entrance alone.

Security stopped me at the bottom of the steps. The guard's eyes were full of contempt as he shoved my shoulder.

"Go beg somewhere else! The Ashfords have booked the entire venue tonight. No outsiders allowed."

I said nothing. I just stood there quietly in the cold wind.

The roar of an engine cut through the air. A black Maybach glided to a stop at the entrance. The door opened.

Julian Ashford stepped out in a perfectly tailored bespoke suit, his shoes immaculate. He wasn't pretending to limp. His stride was steady, his legs long and straight.

Victoria Sterling hung on his arm in a sweeping floor-length gown, radiant.

As they stepped out of the car, Julian's gaze swept across the steps -- and locked onto me.

His face drained of color. A flash of raw panic crossed his eyes before it was swallowed by thick layers of disgust and cold indifference. He murmured something to calm Victoria, told her to head inside, then strode toward me.

"How did you find this place?" Julian looked down at me, his voice cutting like ice -- not a trace left of the warmth he'd shown in that basement. "Lily, did you follow me?"

I looked at this stranger's face, my gaze dropping to his left leg.

"Your leg's healed?" I asked, my voice perfectly calm.

Julian's brow furrowed with impatience. He reached into his suit's inner pocket, pulled out a bank card, and flung it at my feet.

"Since you've already seen everything, there's no point in pretending anymore. These past three years were just a game. I needed someone with a clean background to block the family's marriage plans, and you happened to come along. There's five hundred thousand dollars on that card -- enough for someone like you to go back to your hometown, buy a house, and live out the rest of your life in comfort. Take the money and never show your face in front of me again."

Five hundred thousand dollars. The price tag on three years of my youth and a body covered in scars.

I looked at the bank card on the ground, lifted my foot, and brought it down hard. The sole of my shoe ground across the card with a sharp crack.

"Julian Ashford, do you think everyone sees money the way you do -- as something that can buy anything?"

Julian's expression darkened. He let out a cold laugh.

"Think it's not enough? Lily, don't get greedy. You're a nobody who worked illegal shifts at a chemical plant. You couldn't earn five hundred thousand in a lifetime. Don't make me call security to throw you out. That wouldn't be a good look for either of us."

Before he could finish, a massive convoy appeared at the end of the street.

Twelve Rolls-Royce Phantoms lined up in a single file, pulling up to the hotel entrance with an air of overwhelming authority. The doors opened in unison. Two rows of bodyguards in black stepped out, quickly establishing a perimeter, pushing back every reporter and bystander in sight.

Mr. Pemberton, the Holloway family's head butler, walked briskly to me and, in full view of everyone, gave a formal bow.

"Miss Holloway, the Chairman is waiting for you in the penthouse suite. The Ashford Corporation acquisition decision requires your personal authorization."

The cold mask on Julian's face cracked and froze. He stared at the way Pemberton addressed me, his body swaying violently.

"Miss Holloway? Lily, what are you doing? Did you hire people to put on an act?" His voice cracked with panic.

I shrugged off the old jacket and tossed it casually into a nearby trash can. The emerald-green haute couture gown beneath caught the light and blazed.

I said nothing. I walked straight toward the center car.

Before getting in, I turned my head to look at him.

"Julian, the game's over. But the Holloway Group's divestment notice will be on your desk at eight o'clock tomorrow morning."