Forty minutes later, the ballroom doors opened again. Mr. Reed stepped inside carrying a leather folder, his expression calm and unreadable.
The moment my mother saw him, all the color drained from her face. She grabbed my father’s arm so hard he nearly spilled his drink.
“No,” she whispered. “He can’t be here.”
The guests turned to stare as Mr. Reed walked to the center of the room and asked, “Shall we discuss the penthouse you just tried to steal?-
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