Chapter 1

The conference room on Sutton Group's top floor was thick with smoke. Everyone's face was ashen, as if they'd just been dug out of their graves.

Miranda Sutton turned to my best friend, Stella Sutton, with a triumphant smile. "Have you made up your mind, Stella?"

It was so quiet that one could've heard a pin drop.

12 loan-recall notices from banks, three payment demand letters, and a lawyer's letter lay in a neat row in front of Stella. She stood by the table, her face as white as a sheet.

She didn't look at Miranda. Her gaze skipped past everyone and landed on the couch in the corner. I sat there, holding three sad, wilted oranges.

The housekeeper, Joan Moore, had been about to throw them out that morning. The second I heard that, I protested and brought them to the office.

When I met Stella's eyes, I finished peeling an orange and placed the slices in her hand, one by one.

Miranda rapped her knuckles on the table and gave me a dismissive look. She said, "Stella, sign the agreement, and I might consider letting that loser bestie of yours off the hook."

When I heard her bring me up, I looked over at the contract on the table. I didn't really understand it, but I stared at the payment receipt attached to it for quite a while.

The bank's e-stamp sat at the top. In the amount field, the string of numbers almost made my eyes blur. A note read, "First project investment payment of 450 million has been paid in full on the date of signing."

450 million?

Before I could process that, Stella slapped a hand over the papers and turned to soothe me. "Tay, this has nothing to do with you. Take my card and go downstairs. Try that new fine dining place."

I immediately shook my head. "That place costs 2,800 bucks per person. It's a total rip-off."

She froze for a second, then suddenly laughed. As she laughed, her eyes went red. "Whether it's a rip-off or not is up to me to decide. I make money so you can spend it."

Other people wouldn't have understood what she meant, but I did.

When Stella was first brought back to the Sutton household, everyone picked her apart. They said she had grime under her nails, didn't know how to use a knife and fork, and didn't know how to turn on the charm.

She'd sat on the steps and sobbed with her arms around me. "Tay, I've got nothing here."

I'd thought for a second, then pulled out all the money I had—five bucks—and patted her on the head. "It's fine. I've got you."

She'd bawled even harder after that. She never knew that when I pulled out that fiver, my heart was bleeding.

So when she later handed me 450 million, my first reaction wasn't to be touched. It was a full-on heart attack.

That was so much money! What if I lost it?

Miranda grew impatient when Stella still didn't answer her. She growled, "Have you made up your mind, Stella? Midnight is the latest I can wait. All the bank collection notices will hit by then. Once the clock strikes 12, you'll be over a hundred billion in debt."

Stella ignored her. She turned to me instead and forced a grimace. "Tay, just go home first, okay? Lock the door. I made meatballs, and they're in the fridge…"

She didn't finish because my phone buzzed in my pocket. I checked it. The finance guy in Southeast Alosha had messaged me in our project group chat. He sounded respectful but clearly anxious.

"Ms. Walker, the project's been stopped. When would be a good time for you to transfer the remaining investment payment you promised?"

I stared at the message, frowning.

First, they'd thrown down that so-called receipt saying 450 million had been paid in full to strong-arm Stella into giving in. Then, they sent someone to hound me for the rest of the investment funds.

One side claimed they'd already gotten all the money, and the other insisted I hadn't paid up yet. If this wasn't a scam ring, what was?

Did this mean that the 50 grand I'd invested had gone straight down the drain?

My blood boiled as I fired back, "I don't have any money."