Chapter 5

"I'm sorry. I thought you'd hired her for me."

"And the dress? You thought that was for you too?"

She bites her lip. "The color didn't seem like something Nora would wear. I—I assumed."

I hold her gaze. "Are you testing me?"

Her hands fly up in surrender. "I'm sorry. I don't deserve any of this. Let me take the dress off right now."

"I should've known nobody would ever be this kind to me."

"I was fooling myself."

She fumbles with the zipper—slow, dramatic, useless. The dress doesn't come off. And not a single real tear falls.

Around me, the whispers turn.

"Pearl, come on. She's just a kid."

"Let her go, Pearl. Poor thing's sobbing."

I watch her, cold.

She won't actually cry. Not with $20K sitting on her face. She'd never ruin the mask before she gets what she came for.

Then the doors swing open.

Ethan walks in with Nora on his heels.

Same rainbow hair. Same leather jacket. Same combat boots. Every head in the ballroom snaps toward her.

She freezes in the entryway.

I don't hesitate. I walk straight to her.

"Where'd you go, honey? I was worried sick."

She rubs the back of her neck. "One of my old crew from back home got jumped. I had to roll out."

"He okay?"

She braces, expecting me to snap. But when she looks up, my face is soft.

"Baby. If you ever need Mom—just ask. It makes me happy when you lean on me."

Her fingers curl around mine. "Mom. We're good."

Mom.

First time she's said it since I brought her home. I pull her into a hug so tight my ribs hurt.

Then I take her hand and walk her up to the front of the room.

"Everyone. This is my daughter. Nora Sinclair. I know her style's a little different from what we're used to—but I think she looks amazing. Don't you?"

The room hesitates. Everyone's watching to see how the matriarchs react.

Mrs. Ashford claps. "She's fabulous."

A teenage heiress squeals and drags her friends over. "Is that lip ring real? My mom won't let me get one, I'm dying."

"Your tattoos are so sick. What does that one mean?"