“Upgrade them to the Presidential Pavilion,” I said.

He stared at me for a second, his professional mask slipping just a fraction.

The Presidential Pavilion cost ten thousand dollars a night.

It was a secluded clifftop villa reserved for heads of state and foreign dignitaries.

“Are you sure, ma’am?” Han asked. “Mr. Mercer’s credit card authorization barely cleared the deposit for the cheapest room we have.”

“I am sure,” I said. “Do not charge them a penny for the upgrade. Let them believe it is a stroke of random luck.”

A cold, quiet feeling settled in my chest.

“The higher they climb, the harder they will hit the ground.”

Mr. Han nodded slowly, his fingers moving quickly across his screen to process the system change.

“I understand. The upgrade is complete.”

“Where is the board meeting scheduled?” I asked.

“In the private dining room behind the pavilion,” Mr. Han replied. “The directors are already arriving. They have the acquisition papers ready for your signature.”

My husband’s family business, Mercer Enterprises, was drowning in debt.

They had come to this resort to celebrate a private loan they thought would save them from ruin.

They did not know that the bank had already sold that debt to Lotus Bay’s holding company.

I owned their resort reservation, and by the end of the day, I would own their entire lives.

“Good,” I said. “Let them get comfortable in their luxury first.”

My phone buzzed in my linen pocket.

I pulled it out and looked at the screen.

It was a text from Daniel.

*The front desk just upgraded us to the Presidential Pavilion. Do not come up to the room. You will embarrass us in front of the VIP staff.*

Another text followed immediately from Claire.

*Stay in the lobby if you must come inside. We are having drinks on the private terrace and don’t want to be disturbed.*