They meant to paint her as insane in front of everyone she knew.
Rosalind walked quietly down an empty corridor, took out her phone, and called her wealth manager.
“Cancel the wire transfer.”
“Mrs.
Ashworth — are you certain?”
She looked at her reflection in the dark window.
The wig sat perfectly.
Her eyes held no fear at all.
“I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”
When she returned to the ballroom, the chandeliers blazed, the orchestra played, and Portia was smiling as though she had already conquered the world.