"You think the Santiagos will still want her?" My hand meets Lacey's cheek before I finish the sentence. "You're insane," she spits, fingers traveling to the red print already blooming on her skin. "I asked you a question," I say. My voice is calm. I place my palm flat where her nails were, press until she pulls away. The hallway fills with the sound of shoes on marble and Luisa's laugh, sharp and practiced. Luisa drops the handbag on the console and moves closer with slow steps. "Cheryl, please. Don't make a scene." "Make a scene?" Lacey laughs, brittle and loud. "You left ten years ago. You think anyone wants you back now? You think Flavian—" "Stop," I cut her off. "Don't say his name like it's currency." Brooks steps forward from behind Luisa, sweat at his temples, eyes pretending neutrality. "Girls, enough. This is family business." "Family?" I repeat. "When you sold my mother's hospital wing to pay off a bad merger, was that family? When you let Luisa move in and change my name at press conferences, that was family?" Luisa's smile is all teeth. "We did what preserved the company, Cheryl. You were gone. You chose to disappear." "I had a job. I had a life." I pick up the marble ashtray from the table and set it down with deliberate calm. "You chose greed." "This is beneath you," Brooks says. "You can't accuse my wife—" "My wife