daily operations. My ownership was held through a private holding company.
Rachel knew I had “investments.”
She had no idea of their value.
I wanted her relationships to develop without my wealth influencing them.
Now that choice was hurting me.
I arrived at the Whitmores’ Christmas Eve celebration with Rachel’s favorite pie and a small box holding my late husband’s bracelet, intended as her gift.
Grant opened the door, eyeing my modest coat.
“You came?”
“Rachel invited me.”
His expression tightened.
Inside, designer-clad guests mingled. Charles poured champagne beside a
