“Fine,” Richard said at last.
“I’ll transfer twenty million to your account.
Use it to buy supplies and make whatever preparations you think you need.
I’ll decide what to do about the rest once I’ve looked into the Sinclairs.”
His voice was calm, even bored, but his mind was already working.
If his daughter was telling the truth, the Ashfords would need to make serious arrangements, and quickly.
Otherwise, things could become very troublesome indeed.
If she wasn’t, twenty million was a small price to find out.
He would simply count it as several years of her allowance in advance and not give her another cent until it had been earned back.
“How long until it starts?”
He didn’t believe her.
Not yet.
But he had learned long ago that it cost very little to ask questions.
“Less than four months, Dad.” Sylvie leaned forward eagerly.
“And after it starts, it won’t rain again for three years.
Because of the virus in the rain, all the surface water will be contaminated.
Rivers, lakes, reservoirs.
None of it will be safe to drink.
Water is going to be the most important thing.
More important than food, more important than…”
Richard raised one hand, and she fell silent instantly.
“Go home for now.
We’ll talk about the rest later.” He was already reaching for the documents he had set aside.
“The money will be in your account this afternoon.
What you do with it is up to you.
Everything else can wait until I’ve finished looking into the Sinclairs.
If what you say is true, there’s still plenty of time.
Don’t panic.”
If the end of the world really was coming, it was hardly something a young girl could handle on her own.
He would take it from here, once he was certain.
Sylvie opened her mouth, then closed it again.
She knew that tone.
The meeting was over.
“Thank you, Dad.”
She stood, bowed her head slightly, and let herself out.
In the elevator on the way down, she stared at her reflection in the brushed steel doors and forced her breathing to slow.
It wasn’t everything she’d wanted.
But it was a start.
Twenty million, and her father’s attention.
That was more than she’d ever gotten from him in either life.
And she wasn’t going to sit and wait for him to decide she was worth believing.
By the time she reached her car, she had already made up her mind.
She would sell everything in her name, the apartment, the beach condo her father had given her for her twenty-first birthday, and the two rental units downtown.
All of it would be turned into cash and then into supplies, before anyone else started buying.
Early the next morning, Margaret’s phone rang before she had finished her first cup of tea.
It was Sam.
“Madam, Sylvie Ashford listed every property in her name for sale last night.
Her apartment, a condo on the coast, and two rental units.
All four went up with the same agent within an hour of each other.
The asking prices are well under market.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
So that was that.
There was nothing left to misunderstand.
Sylvie had come back too, exactly like Neve.
“Keep watching her,” she said.
“Anything else, call me at once.”
She set down the phone and sat alone in her study for a long time, pressing her fingertips to her temples.
Her head throbbed.
The capital had four great families: the Leightons, the Whitmores, the Quinns, and the Ashfords.
The Ashfords ranked last of the four, but last among giants was still far beyond anything the Sinclairs could hope to challenge.
The Sinclairs had money and history, and a good name.
But against the Ashfords, the gap was enormous.
And there was something else Margaret couldn’t stop thinking about.
In Neve’s past life, she had died.
She was sure of it now.
Neve had never said it, but she didn’t have to.
What if it happened again?
What if Margaret fell in the first days of the rain, just like before, and left her granddaughter alone to face the Ashfords?
How was she supposed to keep Neve safe if she wasn’t there?
Margaret lowered her hands and looked out the window at the garden.
She couldn’t take on the Ashfords herself.
That was simply the truth.
So she would have to find someone who could.
Her foolish little girl was twenty years old.
She was old enough to marry.
Margaret picked up her phone again and scrolled to a number she hadn’t called in almost a year.
It rang only twice.
“Arthur.
How have you been feeling lately?”
A big, warm laugh boomed down the line.
“Margaret!
Good, good, never better!
What’s made you think of calling an old man like me?”
“We’ve been friends for decades, so I won’t waste your time,” Margaret said.
“My granddaughter is old enough to marry.”
There was a stunned pause.
“You’re joking.
You’re willing to marry her off?”
Arthur Leighton knew this woman better than almost anyone alive.
She treasured that granddaughter more than her own life.
Everyone in the capital knew it.
Long ago, when they were both young and Margaret had just been widowed, Arthur had wanted to court her.
She had turned him down gently but firmly.
She had a son to raise and protect, she told him, and there was no room in her life for anything else.
Years later, it was her granddaughter she had to protect.
Arthur already had a wife and son of his own by then.
Seeing how unshakable she was, he had never pressed the matter again.
But he had never quite stopped admiring her, either.
“My granddaughter was young and foolish,” Margaret said.
“She offended someone she shouldn’t have.
I was hoping you might help me find a way out.”
She sounded tired.
If she’d had any choice at all, she would never have married Neve off to another family.
She had always hoped to find Neve a husband who would take the Sinclair name and live under the Sinclair roof, someone who would join their family rather than take Neve away from it.
But the way things stood now, she couldn’t afford that luxury.
The Sinclairs alone could not stand against the Ashfords.
“Offended whom?” Arthur asked.
If he could help her, he would.
There was no harm in it.
After all, she had once been the woman he cherished most.
“The Ashfords.”
“The Ashfords?” Arthur sounded genuinely baffled.
“How on earth did you end up crossing them?
As far as I knew, your girl was thick as thieves with Richard’s illegitimate daughter.
What’s her name, Sylvie?”
“Hmph.” Margaret’s voice turned to ice.
“That wretched girl tried to kill my granddaughter.
From today on, the Sinclairs and the Ashfords are enemies until one of us is gone.”
Arthur went very quiet.
He had heard Margaret Sinclair angry before, but he had never heard her sound like this.
“Will you help me, Arthur?” she asked.
“If you will, I have something else to tell you.”
She didn’t fool herself.
Their old friendship wasn’t enough to make the Leightons go to war with another great family on her behalf.
Whenever two of the four families clashed, both sides lost blood.
No sensible patriarch would risk that for sentiment alone.
So she would offer him something worth the risk.
She would offer him the end of the world.