Chapter 3
Penelope
Fridays at the law firm were quiet during the summer.
“All the annual taxes and other items have been paid,” I said into my phone as I walked along the windows in my office. “So,
you’re set until next year. All you need to do is sign the papers I’ve sent, like we do every year.”
The late afternoon summer sun spilled into my office, filling it with a warm golden glow. I looked out at the magnificent
city below. While the Singapore skyline was a comforting sight to me, New York City was something else. Domineering. Demanding.
Wonderful.
“Little flagged markers where you need a signature, I know.” My mother’s bored tone came through the line clearly. “You can
relax, dearest. Enjoy your summer. And congratulations on your work accomplishments.”
She said that same generic sentence every time we spoke, not that we spoke all that often.
I took care of most of her financial and legal affairs, including ensuring all the taxes and bills were paid. She was more
than capable of doing so, but I’d taken on that responsibly so long ago, it was muscle memory. And even though she could do it, I knew she was happier letting me handle it.
“Thank you, Mother.” I sighed, staring down at the city. At the start of the call, she’d asked how I was, and I told her I’d
wrapped up some large accounts. While I knew she didn’t care for the day-to-day accomplishments of a corporate lawyer, she
indulged me. “There’s still plenty to do. I’ll be in the Hamptons this summer, working.”
After years of turning down the invitation, Sloan’s aggressively inviting nature won out and I planned to spend the summer
working from the Hamptons in her guesthouse.
“The Hamptons?” Her voice went up an octave. It was only when her perfectly polished English accent broke with any form of
emotion that I realized how much I sounded like her. “I’m glad you’re finally taking some time to enjoy yourself, dearest.”
The wind rustling in the background made it hard to hear the last few words. A farm outside of Glasgow wasn’t where most people
expected to find my mother—the Viscountess of Hastings—but she loved the solitude. She’d lived there for years now, having
moved there from London months after I finished university.
“Are you doing alright, Mother?”
I hadn’t told her about the developments with my inheritance yet. She was expecting to get her shares in Astor Media back
eventually, and I’d make that happen, but I tried not to overwhelm her with details. She was never good with them. It was
easier for me to take care of it for her and avoid the theatrics.
I knew we didn’t have a normal mother-daughter relationship. Spending the summers in Singapore and winters in London, my mother
often treated me like a sister rather than a daughter. I never minded, but I was sure I was the only twelve-year-old double-checking
court documents about who owned which property.
“Of course, dearest. Relax. You’ve taken care of everything.” She laughed lightly.
My father, stepmother, and half siblings in Singapore had what felt like a real family. It was the furthest thing from what my mother wanted. She’d always been rather solitary, content to live quietly and without responsibility.
“Are you sure you—”
“Turn off that busy mind for a second.” She sighed into the phone and it muffled in the line. “Take a step outside and take
a deep breath. Now, it’s late here. I’m off to bed.”
“Good night, Mother.”
I was all she had, so I had to take care of these things, but I didn’t mind. With the money from the divorce settlement dwindling, I was already taking
care of her more substantial bills. It was getting to be unsustainable given all the properties and upkeep they required.
“Hey Pen, Clef International just sched—” Sloan’s voice burst through the open doorway and immediately stopped when she saw
me pulling the phone away from my ear. Sorry , she mouthed.
I waved her in and hung up the phone. “Don’t worry, it was just my mother.”
“How’s the viscountess?” A smile curled up the side of Sloan’s mouth.
Of all the friends I’d made in Manhattan, Sloan was the closest I had. She and I also spent six months in London together
for work and she had an informal introduction to my mother.
“Perfectly well.” I glanced down at my watch; it was already four in the afternoon. “Shouldn’t you be off getting ready for
this weekend?”
Friday afternoons at the firm were usually busy the rest of the year, but in the summer, it was deserted while many worked
remotely. And tonight was Sloan Amari’s engagement party.
She sighed. “Clef wants to meet to discuss the merger’s impact on the expansion plans.”
“I’ll handle the Clef account,” I offered. “And I can help with the Hightower litigation if you need it.”
While I spent a lot of time in my personal life careful not to disrupt the peace, that was what made my work so enticing.
I didn’t have to play nice; in fact, playing dirty was encouraged.
“No, Clef is more than enough. Are you sure?” She handed the files over when I gestured toward them.
“Yes.” I took the files out of her hand. Taking unsavory news and presenting it in a more appetizing fashion was a skill I
honed as a child since I often intercepted the mail and read it first. That way I could present legal documents to my mother
in a way that wouldn’t elicit a meltdown. “And is there anything else you need before the party tonight?”
“Actually, yes.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Could you swing by Harry Winston for me?”
“Okay,” I agreed, though not entirely sure why since her engagement ring was sitting on her finger as we spoke. It was a lovely,
albeit enormous, eleven carats. Specifically designed and crafted for Sloan.
“Lily Sutton’s ring is being cleaned,” she explained. “And I don’t want it to sit in the Harry Winston vault all summer. Can
you pick it up and bring it to the Hamptons with you?”
As if living in her own version of a fairy tale, Sloan was presented with three rings when she got engaged—two family rings,
and a new one. She chose the one her fiancé had custom made for her.
“Of course,” I repeated, ushering her out of the office.
She stopped halfway to the door. “I would go myself, or send Xander, but—”
“No need to explain.” I put my hand up, knowing the subject of Lily and William Sutton—her soon-to-be husband’s late parents—was
a painful one. “I’m happy to help.”
Xander and Marcus Sutton lost their parents tragically, and while both had moved on since the events of that night over a decade ago, Sloan was still protective of them both. And of the memory of the Suttons.
“I’ll pick it up and guard it with my life,” I added.
She smiled brightly. “And we’ll pick you up on the way out of the city tomorrow.”
“Now, off you go.” I pointed down the hall to the elevators. “Leave Clef to me.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yes. Go.”
She turned and made her way down the hall. Alone, that familiar ache started to settle in my gut again. I glanced down at
my phone, considering whether to call my half sister, Arabella. But it would be the middle of the night in Singapore, and
Arabella hadn’t answered my calls in almost a year. Still, I couldn’t help wishing I could turn to her right now for support.
I was always longing for the type of family that was just out of my grasp.
It was easier to stay away, not having to be reminded of the rejection I felt from my own family. It hurt my heart a little
less the years I didn’t visit, and now it had been three since I went to Singapore.
I tucked my phone back in my pocket, letting the feeling pass.