“Emerson,” she hissed, grabbing his arm.
“Do something!”
But Emerson wasn’t looking at her the same way anymore.
“Was that all it was?” he asked, shaking.
“Was all of it just about the money?”
Before she could answer, a young banquet server stepped timidly toward the stage, a tray trembling in his hands.
“Excuse me.
I heard something earlier.” Every head turned.
“I was setting up the coffee station by the terrace this afternoon.
Miss Portia told a friend that tomorrow morning they’d start the paperwork to take control of Mrs.