Bea didn’t follow. She stood where he’d left her, the umbrella trembling slightly in her hands. Watching him go.
It was ridiculous. She held the umbrella. She was dry now.
But somehow, she felt like she was the one still standing in the rain.
GEORGINA: Spa lounge at Peninsula West. Private booking.
GEORGINA: It’s Isabel. Urgent.
GEORGINA: Not in the group chat. I already messaged Naomi and Lillian.
GEORGINA: Bring chocolate. And don’t be late.
Bea was still towel-drying her hair when the messages came through. The sight of Georgina’s name, stacked like that, made her move faster. She dressed in soft leggings and an oversized hoodie, shoved a wrapped bar of dark chocolate into her bag, and pulled the Porsche out of the Mayfield Hall underground parking lot. A sick feeling grew low in her stomach.
The Solace House Spa inside the Peninsula West was too beautiful for a crisis. Which made it perfect, she supposed.
She was led through the spa’s stone-tiled corridors to the private area. The scene unfolded in front of her: Georgina pacing near the water feature; Naomi curled up with her knees to her chest on a low chaise; Lillian sitting upright. Isabel was at the center, a glass of untouched wine in one hand, robe pristine, face unreadable. No one sat beside her, as if respecting her need for space.
Bea paused in the doorway.
Georgina crossed to her. “She hasn’t cracked yet, and I’m two minutes from throwing myself into the plunge pool just to force a reaction.”
“Chocolate,” Bea said, handing it over.
“You’re an angel.”
Bea sank down beside Naomi, her voice barely audible. “What happened?”
It was the kind of quiet that made her unsure if she’d spoken aloud or just in her own head.
Everyone was waiting for Isabel.
Finally, she spoke. “The deal went through.”
“What deal?” Bea asked.
Isabel looked down at the glass in her hand. “Their family acquired regional rights to the Pacific media pipeline,” sherecited, emotionless. “Streaming, advertising, tech integration. All of it.”
Bea’s stomach dropped. Isabel’s family had been building toward that pipeline for two years.
“Wait.Mason’sfamily?” Naomi asked, shocked.
Isabel nodded.
“And he knew?” Naomi’s voice was sharp now. “Tell me he didn’t know.”
Isabel gave a tired smile. “He knew. Weeks ago. Said it wasn’t his call.”
“Did he tell you himself?” Lillian asked.
“No. I heard from my father.” Isabel took a sip of her wine, blinking rapidly.
“So he didn’t warn you,” Georgina, who had been uncharacteristically silent, said flatly.
“No. It was confidential. And he didn’t want to complicate things.”
“Wow.” Naomi barked a laugh. “That’s rich.”
