“Mommy, do I have to share when I blow out the candles too?”

Two thousand miles south, at the *Las Ventanas al Paraíso* resort in Cabo San Lucas, Logan Bradley was having the worst afternoon of his life.

I knew this because Eleanor had instructed Marcus to monitor the activity alerts on Logan’s corporate accounts. Between 4:15 PM and 5:30 PM, the system recorded seven consecutive declined transactions:

*DECLINED: Las Ventanas Resort Concierge - $14,250.00*

*DECLINED: Cabo Private Yacht Charters - $3,800.00*

*DECLINED: El Farallon Dining Services - $890.00*

*DECLINED: ATM Withdrawal / International - $500.00*

At 6:00 PM, my cell phone began to vibrate on the glass table of Eleanor’s lakeside patio.

*Logan Calling.*

I let it ring until it rolled to voicemail. Ten seconds later, it rang again. And again. On the fifth ring, I took a sip of iced mint lemonade, swiped the screen, and placed the phone on speaker.

“Clara!” Logan’s voice exploded through the tiny speaker, high-pitched, breathless, and laced with pure fury. “Clara, pick up the goddamn phone!”

“Hello, Logan,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as a summer lake. “How is Wisconsin? Are the fall leaves pretty in Door County?”

A choked, strangled sound came through the receiver. “What the hell did you do, Clara? What did you do to my accounts?”

“Your accounts?” I asked, feigning innocent surprise. “I don't know what you're talking about, Logan. You told me those were corporate firewall accounts. Untouchable, remember?”

“Don't play dumb with me!” he screamed. I could hear the roar of the Pacific surf in the background, accompanied by the muffled, panicked voice of Sienna yelling at someone in Spanish. “My Amex is declined! My debit cards are frozen! The resort manager is standing outside my private cabana with two armed security guards threatening to call the federal police if I don't settle an eighteen-thousand-dollar balance in twenty minutes! What did you do?”

“Oh,” I said softly. “You must be talking about Judge Miller’s emergency injunction.”

Dead silence fell over the line. Even the sound of the ocean seemed to vanish.

“What… what injunction?” Logan stammered, the rage suddenly draining from his voice, replaced by cold terror.

“The injunction against Vanguard Crest Holdings, Caldwell Enterprises, and your personal assets for fraudulent conversion and grand larceny,” I replied evenly. “Eleanor Vance served your attorney, Doug, at two o’clock today. Didn't he reach out to you?”

“Eleanor… Vance?” Logan whispered. “She’s retired. She doesn't take cases.”

“She takes cases for her family, Logan. And right now, she’s sitting across the table from me, enjoying a very lovely view of Lake Michigan.”

“Clara, listen to me,” Logan pleaded, his voice breaking into that desperate, manipulative tone he used whenever a business deal slipped through his fingers. “You don't understand what you're doing. This is a misunderstanding. I’m in Mexico on an emergency restructuring meeting for a client! Sienna is here as a consultant! Mason had nowhere else to go!”

“Save it for the judge, Logan,” I said. “And by the way, how was Emma’s transition plan supposed to go? Were you going to tell her she had a new mother before or after you moved her to Lake Forest?”

A sharp gasp came over the phone. Not from Logan, but from Sienna, who was clearly listening on the speaker.

“You… you know about Lake Forest?” Logan breathed.

“I own Lake Forest,” I corrected him calmly. “You signed the amended lien disclosure on Friday night, remember? Right after the risotto. The property title has been transferred to my sole holding trust to satisfy the 1.4 million dollars you stole from our daughter’s future.”

A shriek of pure horror echoed through the phone—Sienna, realizing that her multi-million-dollar suburban palace had vanished into thin air.

“Clara, you bitch!” Sienna screamed into the phone, her polished mask completely shattered. “That house is mine! My name is on the deed!”

“Your name was on an uncollateralized bridge loan that matures in three weeks, Sienna,” I said coldly. “A loan that is now in default because Logan’s credit lines are frozen. If I were you, I’d start packing your apartment in Oakridge. Because you certainly won’t be moving to Lake Forest.”

“Clara, please,” Logan begged, his pride entirely gone, reduced to a sniveling wreck. “They’re going to arrest me here. The Mexican authorities don't mess around with unpaid luxury resorts. Wire ten thousand dollars to my personal PayPal. Just enough to clear the room and get us on a commercial flight home. Please. For Emma’s sake.”

I looked out across the lawn where Emma was playing with Eleanor’s golden retriever, chasing fireflies in the twilight, her laughter floating through the evening air like music.

“Do you remember Emma’s birthday cake, Logan?” I asked quietly.

“What? What does that have to do with anything?”

“You told her that sharing was a good thing,” I whispered into the receiver. “You told her that big girls share their spotlight. So right now, Logan… you and Sienna can share that cabana. And you can figure out how to pay for it together.”

I tapped the red button, ending the call.