I turned the ignition, the engine purring. “Do it,” I said.

“Understood,” Julian said. “But Eleanor — Liam Vance has been begging for a meeting at headquarters tomorrow. If we cut him off now, he’s going to come kicking and screaming to our lobby.”

Chapter 2 — The Poor Widow

The Vance family believed I owned a failing auto-repair shop on the dusty outskirts of Charlotte.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Thirty years ago, my late husband Richard and I started in a grease-stained garage.

But Richard was a genius with patents, and I was ruthless with investments.

By the time he passed, that single garage had grown into Holloway Global Components — a multi-billion-dollar empire of factories and supply chains across North America. I remained the sole Chairwoman.