Chapter 2

I didn't reply.

Instead, I muted the notification and left the chat.

My phone rang within seconds—Stacy calling.

I didn't answer. I placed the phone facedown on my desk, got up, and walked into the restroom.

Splashing cold water onto my face, I looked at myself in the mirror.

A twenty-four-year-old girl with dark circles under her eyes, wearing a gray hoodie and hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

I had graduated a year and a half ago, making $3,500 a month doing social media marketing. Rent was $1,200, and I sent $800 home every month.

My parents ran the budget motel. Business was slow; during peak season, they barely filled seven or eight rooms a night.

They had bought the land years ago because it was cheap, never imagining someone would build a private paradise like Cloud Crest Manor next door.

I grabbed a paper towel and patted my face dry.

My phone vibrated again. Someone had already added me back to the WhatsApp group.

Stacy had posted a screenshot of a picture I shared on SnapChat last month—a photo of my parents' backyard with the caption, Not a bad view outside the front door.

Stacy tagged me: "Doesn't this look lovely? This is the spot. Everyone remember to pack your swimsuits!"

Underneath, someone asked, "Stacy, the yard looks kind of tiny. Can thirty people even fit?"

"We'll squeeze. Chloe said it's fine."

"What about the hot springs? Weren't there supposed to be hot springs?"

"The manor is right next door. Chloe can work something out. We're all family here."

Family.

Looking at that word, I let out a dry laugh.

When my mom was hospitalized last month and I asked Stacy for a small advance on my paycheck, she told me, "We're a business, Chloe, not a charity."

When my dad called her, begging for a few days' extension on a work invoice because the manor's private security had knocked down our motel sign for "blocking their private road," nobody called us family then.

Back then, nobody was family.

I closed WhatsApp, opened SnapChat, and found a contact.

"Mr. Sterling, sorry to bother you. There's something I need to give you a heads-up about."

He replied almost immediately: "Go on."

I sent him the screenshots and added:

"They're coming this Friday afternoon. I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't listen. I wanted to let you know ahead of time. I'm sorry for the trouble."

A thirty-second silence followed before he sent back two words: "Understood."

Looking at those two words, a sense of relief washed over me.

Scott Sterling was a man of few words, but he dealt with things swiftly and ruthlessly.

Our motel shared a narrow back alley with his estate. Last winter, our main pipe froze and burst, spilling water into his estate's back gate.

Instead of suing us, he sent his private crew to fix it without charging a dime. Afterward, my mom sent over two baskets of fresh farm eggs. He accepted them and had his assistant tell her, "Mr. Sterling says thank you, ma'am."

We weren't close, but I knew one thing: he despised trespassers.

And that was more than enough.

At two o'clock on Friday afternoon, while I was still editing copy at my desk, Stacy clapped her hands loudly.

"Time to go! The chartered bus is waiting downstairs!"

I looked up. "Stacy, I'm not going. I still have a project to finish—"

"Save it, Chloe."

Stacy strutted over in her kitten heels, her manicured nails tapping impatiently on my desk. "You're the host. If you don't go, who will? Hurry up, don't keep everyone waiting."

Her heavy floral perfume made me want to gag.

"Stacy, that estate doesn't belong to me."

"Oh, stop the act already." She rolled her eyes. "Julian is already on the bus. Are you really going to make him wait?"

I glanced out the window. Sure enough, a fifty-three-seater coach was parked outside. Coworkers were streaming out with duffel bags, and a few even had leashed dogs.

If I remembered correctly, the sign-up list had reached forty-seven people, along with five dogs and three cats.

"Fine," I said, locking my computer. "I'll go."

Stacy finally broke into a triumphant smile. "That's more like it. Show some team spirit."