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"Why don't you try? Being here isn't so bad, I promise."

She lets out a short, bitter laugh and her eyes go damp.

"You don't understand anything, Aunt Elvira."

"You're right, I don't," she admits with a tired sigh. "But maybe I will if I get to see more of you."

Elvira was born by accident—an unplanned pregnancy that arrived when her sister Blanca was sixteen. By then, the eldest was already the apple of their father's eye and working in the factory in the afternoons. That made her the favorite without ever giving Elvira a chance to prove herself, which showed in the division of the inheritance too: Blanca got the stores and the glamour, while Elvira got the factory, because if it went under it didn't really matter—Blanca could always find another supplier. But despite being only twenty when she inherited it, Elvira proved she could run a business: she didn't just keep it afloat, she restructured it and adapted it to every change that came along.

"I barely know you, and I don't know what your relationship with them is really like—though from the little I've seen I can tell it isn't great—and God knows I almost never agree with my sister. But this is your future, Claudia."

"Right… the future they picked for me," she mutters, disgusted.

Elvira doesn't know what she means by that, and honestly she probably shouldn't care, because running a company is more than enough to deal with without taking on a niece who apparently goes through life treating it like one long party. But she regrets not doing anything to stay in touch with her. Maybe if she had, Claudia would have turned out differently. She'll never know, and this isn't the moment for regrets—what she wants is to try to do right by her now.

"All right, fine. Put your babysitter on me starting Monday," Claudia says, biting her lip as she returns to her chair.

Elvira follows, already thinking she needs to talk to Laia as soon as possible. When her sister asked whether anyone on her staff might be suited for this task—which strikes Elvira herself as excessive—she thought of Laia for two reasons. First, she's very disciplined, and even though she's younger than Claudia, maybe they'll get along and her niece will simply follow her example. Second, she knows Laia could use the extra money, and with all the hours she'll spend keeping tabs on Claudia—hours Elvira will bill to her sister—Laia could earn a supplement that would make a real difference for her. But for any of that to happen, Laia has to agree.

"If everyone's ready," the lawyer says, "let's go over the details so everything is clear."

Enric waves a hand at him to proceed, and Jordi Comas clears his throat and looks directly at Claudia.

"Every week, a written report on your conduct and performance will be submitted by Laia," the lawyer explains. "It will be issued in duplicate—one copy for your aunt, one for your parents. On September third we'll conduct a review, and if it's favorable, you recover your standing and take up a position at the Barcelona offices as executive director of the brand."

Executive director. Anyone would kill for that role, and yet Claudia would sooner lose a leg, because accepting it would confirm that she will never have control of her own life.

"And if it isn't?" Claudia asks bitterly.

"If it isn't, you leave the family and the shareholder structure—it's in the contract," her father answers for him. "And that's it for the money, Claudia. We're not giving you any more chances."

"Fine." Claudia leans toward the table, picks up a pen, and signs the contract, then slides it toward the lawyer. "Signed. Can I go now?"

"Where are you going to go?" her mother asks. "You came with us, and—"

"I'll take the train. Don't worry, I'll try not to let anyone get a photo of me somewhere this run-down," she says on her way to the door.

Her father tightens his jaw. Her mother sits up straighter in her chair.

"It was good to see you, Aunt Elvira," she murmurs as she passes by her.

"You too. I'll see you here on Monday."

Claudia exhales a quiet laugh through her nose, gives a small nod, and walks out.

"If you'll excuse me, I have a great deal to take care of," Elvira says, leaving them in the conference room.

Chapter 3

Claudia rides the train with her head tilted toward the window, her gaze lost in the sea, her coat folded over her lap with her hands resting on top. It takes her almost half an hour for the trembling in her arms and legs to pass—the trembling she's been carrying since she walked out of her aunt's factory—and her pulse is still racing, and breathing normally feels like an enormous effort.

Luckily, she has no one sitting across from her and can cross one leg over the other while she bounces her foot in the air without stopping. She sighs every few seconds, anxiety pressing down on her chest. She knows it'll pass. She just needs a little time and something to do to clear her head.

She hasn't cried even when her eyes sting, and sometimes she feels angry at herself for that stupid habit she has of holding back and swallowing every emotion she feels. When she saw her aunt and heard her low, measured voice, the tears had almost come—and when her father recited everything she does wrong in her life, or how much of a disgrace she is to a name he doesn't even carry, she'd wanted to cry then too. The difference between the two moments is that in front of her aunt it was the mix of joy and nostalgia that washed over her at the sight of her, while with her father it was out of pure rage and frustration.

She gets off at Plaça Catalunya and exits the station in a rush. Her apartment is a good stretch of walking away, and with these heels she should take the metro to spare her feet, but the thought of cramming herself into that sardine can with no order to it at all tightens her throat even further. She'd rather walk, and she makes an effort not to think about anything while she does, but her mind doesn't let her and she replays every moment of the meeting until she's exhausted by it.

The last thing she cares about is the card. She has enough cash in her safe to get through those six months without stressing over it. Claudia almost never pays in cash if she can avoid it, so every time she's withdrawn anything from an ATM it's been to stash it away, because she's always been aware that a moment like this could come. Her parents have controlled nearly her entire life for as long as she can remember. It's no surprise that at some point they'd attack through her credit card to tighten the leash she's always felt around her neck.