“I didn’t sign that,” he whispered.
Richard sat down hard on the nearest cushion. Not because someone pushed him. Because his knees simply stopped helping him pretend.
Elena looked at me, then at the harbor officer, and said, “Before Madam President signs, there is one more attached declaration she needs to review.”
Victoria’s face collapsed. “Richard… what did you do?”
I took the final page from Elena’s hand, read the first line, and realized the Richardson family had not just risked their yacht or their house.
The liquid was icy, sugary, and clung to my skin, carrying the scent of expensive citrus and pure disdain.
The ocean breeze coming off the Atlantic struck my face with a sharp taste of salt.
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Soft jazz drifted from the yacht’s speakers, polished and cheerful, as though the entire afternoon had been arranged to disguise cruelty beneath elegance.
“Oops,” Victoria said.
There was not even the slightest attempt at sounding apologetic.
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Her circle of friends chuckled into their crystal glasses, the sound crisp and hollow, while I watched the stain spread across the light linen fabric of my dress.
I had purchased that dress during a department store sale the previous week because Liam had told me his parents’ yacht gathering was “casual, but Mom notices things.”
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