Chapter 10

Summer's POV

I said nothing, watching the familiar streets of Back Bay slide past. We were heading downtown, toward the music district near Berklee, and every mile felt like a countdown.

"Victoria deserves that. Running Hayes & Co. is incredibly stressful, especially now with the fall collection and all the expansion plans. You probably don't realize how much pressure she's under."

My hands clenched in my lap. Here it was—the careful probing, the gentle insertion of herself into the narrative of Mom's business, planting seeds for future involvement.

"I'm just a student," I said. "I don't really understand the business side of things."

"Well, that's probably for the best. You're young, you should focus on your education." Maya's voice was warm, understanding. "But I worry about your mother sometimes, you know? Carrying all that responsibility alone. It's why I'm so glad she has me to help out when she needs it."

In one year, Grandma will call Mom, begging her to give Maya a job. Mom will hesitate, will want to hire someone qualified, but Grandma will cry and I'll take Maya's side, and Mom will cave. Two years after that, Maya will be CFO. Three years after that, the FBI will raid our offices and Mom will be in handcuffs.

The memory was so vivid I could taste it—the shame, the cameras, the federal agents walking Mom out of her own building while Maya conveniently was "out of town." All the evidence pointing to the CEO while the CFO played innocent, claiming ignorance, letting my mother take the fall for crimes Maya had carefully, methodically committed.

Maya drove on, chatting about nothing—the weather, the traffic, some gallery opening she'd been to last week. I let her words wash over me, my mind filled with other memories, darker ones.

The FBI agent at our door at 6 AM. Mom's face, so calm, as they read her rights. Her voice, steady and quiet: "Summer, call our lawyer. Don't talk to anyone. I love you."

The courtroom, Mom in a suit that hung loose on her frame because she'd lost so much weight. The prosecutor laying out the evidence—falsified invoices, offshore accounts, shell companies in the Cayman Islands. All of it pointing to Victoria Hayes, CEO. All of it actually orchestrated by Maya Hayes, CFO, who'd covered her tracks so perfectly that even the forensic accountants couldn't find proof.

Mom's lawyer had wanted to pursue it, to investigate Maya more thoroughly. But Mom had refused. "She's my sister," she'd said, her voice hollow. "I can't destroy her. There's no solid evidence anyway."

So she went to prison alone. Five years, they said. She didn't make it through one.

"Summer?" Maya's voice cut through my thoughts. "You're very quiet. Everything alright?"

I realized my nails had drawn blood from my palms. I unclenched my fists, wiping them discreetly on my jeans.

"Just tired. Didn't sleep well last night."

"Well, try not to fall asleep during your lesson." She laughed. "Your teacher is expensive enough."

We crossed the Charles River, the water glinting gold in the afternoon sun. I watched it pass and thought about the prison visiting room, the orange jumpsuit that made Mom's skin look gray, the way her hands shook when she tried to hold mine across the table.

"Mom, why won't you tell them it was Maya? She did this, not you!"

"There's no proof, baby. She was very careful. And she's my sister. I can't—"

"She's destroying you! She doesn't care about you!"

"I know." Mom's voice had been so soft, so tired. "But I care about her. I can't help it."

And I'd sat there crying about myself, about how the other students looked at me now, about my ruined social life and my embarrassment. I hadn't asked if she was cold in that place, if she was eating enough, if anyone was hurting her. I'd made her last year of life about my pain instead of hers.

"You know," Maya said, pulling me back to the present, "if you ever need anything, Summer—anything at all—you can always come to me. I know you and your mom fight sometimes. All mothers and daughters do. But I'm here for you. We're family."

Family. You used that word a lot, didn't you? When you wanted something. When you needed me on your side against Mom. When you needed someone to vouch for your "trustworthiness" so Mom would make you CFO.

"That's kind of you," I said, my voice flat. "But I don't need anything. Mom and I are good now."

"Are you?" There was something sharp in her tone, quickly smoothed over. "I mean, that's wonderful. I'm so glad to hear it. Victoria can be... challenging sometimes. Very exacting. Very controlling."

"She's not controlling." The words came out harder than I intended. "She has standards. She built her company from nothing. She knows what it takes."

Maya's hands tightened on the steering wheel, just slightly. "Of course. I didn't mean to imply otherwise. I just meant that she can be hard to please, that's all. But if you two are getting along better, that's fantastic."

"Aunt Maya," I said carefully, "Mom's always telling me how important it is to be careful with finances. She says the company's financial health is everything—one mistake, one bit of carelessness or dishonesty, and the whole thing can collapse."

Her smile didn't waver, but something flickered in her eyes. "Well, yes. Financial management is crucial in any business."

"And she says the people handling the money have to be absolutely trustworthy." I kept my voice level, almost casual. "Because if something goes wrong, if there's fraud or embezzlement or anything like that, it's not just the company that gets destroyed. The people responsible go to prison. Federal prison."

The smile froze on her face. Her knuckles went white on the steering wheel.

"Summer." Her voice was very controlled. "That's... quite a serious topic for a high school student to be thinking about."

"Is it?" I tilted my head, still watching her. "I'm going to inherit the company someday, aren't I? I should understand how these things work. What can go wrong. What the consequences are."

"Of course, but—"

"I've been reading about white-collar crime lately." The lie came easily. "It's fascinating how people think they can hide money, move it offshore, create shell companies. But forensic accountants always find it eventually. And the penalties are severe—five years, ten years, sometimes more."

Maya's jaw was tight. "Why this sudden interest in financial crimes?"

"I just want to protect what Mom built." I turned back to face forward, my heart pounding but my voice steady. "I want to make sure nothing bad ever happens to Hayes & Co. Or to her."

Maya drove in silence for several blocks, her earlier chattiness completely gone. When she finally spoke, her voice was carefully neutral.

"Your mother is very lucky to have you thinking about these things."

"I'm the lucky one," I said quietly. "I have a mother who would do anything for me. Who would sacrifice everything, take the blame for things she didn't do, just to protect the people she loves. But I won't let her do that. Not anymore."

Maya took out her compact, pretending to check her lipstick, but I could see her watching me in the mirror, trying to figure out what had changed, why the docile, self-absorbed teenager she remembered was suddenly talking about fraud and federal prison.

"You've grown up a lot, haven't you?" she said finally.

"I've learned a lot. Aunt Maya."

In my last life, I'd been blind. I'd let a wolf into our home because I was too self-absorbed, too eager for someone to take my side against my "controlling" mother, too stupid to see what was right in front of me. I'd helped Maya destroy us, and Mom had paid the price.

But not this time.

This time, I knew what she was. This time, I was watching.

And this time, I wouldn't let her win.