She had buried the love of her life.
She had run a commercial development firm in years when men refused to sit across a table from a woman.
She had built everything she had without ever once bowing her head.
She was not about to let a ruthless social climber mistake her quiet grace for weakness.
She called her sister, Estelle.
Then she called her lead attorney.
Chapter 7 — Armor
Two hours later, Estelle arrived carrying a flawless silver-tinted wig, an elegant navy silk gown, and a fierce, uncompromising look in her eyes.
“You are not crying today, Rosalind,” she said.
“Today you are going to look them dead in the eye when their whole pathetic facade comes down.”