“I never lied to you, Claire,” I replied, looking at her expensive diamond earrings. “You simply never bothered to ask what I did before I married your brother.”

“You were just a charity case,” Vivian hissed, her voice trembling as she tried to regain her usual cold authority. “My son brought you into our home. We gave you a roof over your head.”

Mr. Han stepped forward, opening a leather folder he carried under his arm.

“Mrs. Mercer,” Mr. Han said, his voice flat and professional. “According to our records, the Mercer Group’s outstanding debt to the Arden Funding Syndicate currently stands at forty-two million dollars.”

“The grace period expired at five o’clock this evening.”

Vivian’s hand flew to her collarbone.

“We were negotiating an extension,” she stammered, looking at Mr. Han instead of me, as if she could still bypass my authority. “The board promised us a meeting next Monday.”

“I am the board, Vivian,” I said.

The silence at their table was heavy and suffocating.

Around us, the other gala guests were pretending not to look, but their eyes kept darting in our direction.