Chapter 6
One year later, the Mediterranean sun blazed across the blue waters of Monaco.
I adjusted my sunglasses and took a sip of my Aperol spritz, leaning back into the plush lounge chair on the deck of Jordan’s new yacht, Queen of Hearts.
“Okay, read the review,” Lily demanded, kicking her feet in the infinity pool. She was wearing a designer bikini that probably cost more than my first car.
I picked up my iPad and scrolled down the New York Times bestseller list.
“Number one in hardcover fiction for the third week in a row,” I read aloud, unable to hide my smile. “The Scumbag Destruction Plan by Summer Quinn. The Times calls it ‘a deliciously sharp, wickedly funny revenge thriller that reads like a modern feminist heist. Quinn’s prose is electric.’”
“They should have mentioned me,” Lily pouted. “I basically engineered the cyber-heist.”
“You have five million followers on Twitch now, Lily,” Sophie laughed as she stepped onto the deck with a tray of fresh fruit. “Let Summer have her moment.”
Sophie looked incredible.
The crushing burden of her brother’s illness was gone. He had successfully undergone surgery six months earlier and was thriving.
Sophie had dropped out of art school and opened her own legitimate, highly successful gallery in Chelsea, funded cleanly by the five million Jordan had wired each of us the morning after the gala.
Jordan stepped out of the air-conditioned cabin wearing oversized Celine sunglasses and a crisp linen suit. She sat at the table and opened a sleek laptop.
“How goes the empire?” I asked.
“Carter Corporation is officially liquidated,” Jordan said without looking up. “I sold the remaining assets to a tech conglomerate in Tokyo. Tripled my investment.”
“And Liam?” Sophie asked, popping a grape into her mouth.
It had become a rule among us that we only checked in on his misery every few months, strictly for entertainment.
Jordan smirked.
“He filed for personal bankruptcy in March. Last I heard, he was working as an assistant manager at a boutique fitness center in New Jersey. They make him wear a polo shirt with a name tag.”
We all burst out laughing.
It was a perfect ending.
A year earlier, I had been a quiet writer convinced my life would always be made up of ordinary, predictable events.
I thought I knew what love was.
I thought I knew what betrayal felt like.
But Liam Carter’s greatest mistake wasn’t just cheating on us.
His greatest mistake was assuming women are naturally competitive. He assumed we would tear each other apart over his scraps.
He never realized that when you put four smart, capable, furious women in one room, we don’t fight over the prize.
We dismantle the game.
“All right, ladies,” Jordan said, snapping her laptop shut. She pulled a deck of expensive playing cards from her pocket and began shuffling them with professional ease. “Sun’s going down. Who’s ready to lose their royalties to me?”
“In your dreams, Number Two,” Lily grinned, climbing out of the pool and wrapping a towel around her waist.
“I’m dealing,” Sophie said, taking her seat at the table.
I set my iPad down, looked out at the endless ocean, and smiled.
The trust fund boy was broke.
The empire was ours.
And the poker game was just getting started.
I took my seat at the table.
“Deal me in.”