Then he stopped scrolling. His eyes went wide.
I glanced at his screen. The Arizona Business Journal website. A headline from March:
Crest View Hospitality Group Acquires the Grand View Estate in $6.8M Deal.
And beneath it, a photo of me at the signing ceremony, shaking hands with the previous owner.
Gregory looked up at me, then at the champagne bottle in my hand, then back at his phone.
“You’re—”
I leaned close, my voice barely a whisper.
“Not yet.”
He stared at me for a long moment. Then slowly, a smile spread across his face—the smile of a man who’d just been handed front-row tickets to a show he hadn’t known was coming.
“Mr. Holt,” I said quietly, “I’d appreciate your discretion for now.”
He picked up his champagne glass and raised it slightly in my direction.
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
I moved on to the next table, heart pounding. One person knew. But the night was far from over.
Okay, I need to pause here for a second. If you’re watching this and you’ve ever been the invisible one at family gatherings—the one whose success never seems to count—drop a comment and tell me your story. I read every single one. And if you want to see what happens when my father finds out who really owns this venue, hit that subscribe button.
Now, back to the wedding.
I slipped out through a service entrance and found a quiet spot behind the rose garden, away from the noise of the reception. My phone showed three missed calls from Elena. I called her back.
“Finally.” She answered on the first ring. “I’ve been trying to reach you. The Q2 numbers just came in and revenue is up twenty-three percent year-over-year, and the Marriott partnership is official. They signed this afternoon. We’re expanding into two new markets by Q1.”
I closed my eyes, letting the news wash over me. Twenty-three percent. The Marriott deal we’d been negotiating for eight months—all while my father was telling people I worked at a motel.
“That’s incredible. Elena, send me the confirmation email.”
“Already done. But Sierra…” Her voice shifted. “How’s the wedding? Are you okay?”
I laughed, though there was no humor in it.
“My father had me seated with the catering staff. Then he told his business partners I was dressed for serving drinks and suggested I help pour champagne.”
Silence on the line.
“You’re joking.”
“I’ve been serving drinks for almost an hour.”
“Sierra.” Elena’s voice went cold. “Do you want me to make some calls? I could have a Forbes reporter there in ninety minutes. Or I could leak the Grand View acquisition to every business outlet in Arizona. By tomorrow morning, everyone at that wedding would know exactly who you are.”
It was tempting. God, it was tempting.
“Not yet,” I said. “But keep your phone close.”
“Always.” She paused. “You know you don’t have to prove anything to them, right? You’ve already won.”
“I know. But this isn’t about winning.”
I watched the sun beginning to set over Camelback Mountain.
“It’s about knowing who they really are—and letting them show me.”
“Just be careful.”
“I will.”
I hung up and walked back toward the reception. The dinner service was about to begin.
I was cutting through the service corridor when Vanessa appeared, blocking my path. She’d changed into her reception dress, a sleek ivory number that probably cost more than my first car. Her eyes were red-rimmed, though her makeup was still perfect.
“Sierra.” She glanced at the champagne bottle I was still carrying. “What are you doing?”
“Helping out. Like Dad suggested.”
“You don’t have to.” She stopped, pressing her lips together. “This isn’t right. I can talk to him. Tell him to stop.”
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