It was a dead end; a brick wall.
It was the ground opening up beneath her.
The magazine had run three photos: the one taken with Ida Dalton and Ketija, the one taken with the Schwartzmans, and one she wasn’t aware had been taken where she was smiling up at Cookie Jar like they were the best of friends.
The caption read: Lenore Bradshaw, eldest daughter of jailed Ponzi scheme fraud, Jeffrey Bradshaw, and sister of accused drug czar, Easton Bradshaw, hobnobbed with disgraced Ossovian prime minister, Sonny Ozols, at several events recently. Ms. Bradshaw’s charity, Dollars for Daughters, was a supporter of the United Heroes League, through which the accurately nicknamed Cookie Jar laundered millions of dollars he used for personal gain before being toppled in a leadership coup.
She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. She couldn’t call a lawyer and threaten to sue or even press the magazine for a retraction, because every word was true. There was nothing slanderous about it.
But it was scandalous and would reach a broader audience than the showdown at the gala. Unlike gossip, it lived on in full color, the implication damming. Two out of three Bradshaws were crooks. The third associated with criminals and involved her charity. The only way to clear her name was to admit she’d been part of a clever con that helped bring Cookie Jar down.
To do that would out Halsey.
And who would believe her, anyway?
Damned six ways to hell. Not only was the Bradshaw name blackened over again, D4D was further compromised. It would never recover if her name remained attached to it.
There was no coming back to respectability from this.
It was an endpoint. A dark alley with no exit. A game she played hard but was only skilled at losing.
Her coffee got cold, the foam melted, leaving a film around the edge of the fancy glass cup, making it as undrinkable as her future was uncertain.
She waited to feel like puking; all she got was hunger pains. It wasn’t that unexpected, after all. Even before Easton’s arrest. Who on Earth had she thought she was fooling? She’d been clinging to the ideal of fairness. Believing if she worked hard enough she could outrun the shadow of her father’s crime and still do the work she valued most.
The only one who’d treated that ambition seriously was the one man she couldn’t afford to trust.
No, it wasn’t hunger. It was the stomach-churning sense of defeat. She could help her family, but she couldn’t save the Bradshaw name, and no amount of putting in the work would matter. She’d always be one of those Bradshaws. Untrustworthy. Disreputable. Causing a scene. Best avoided.
She could waste her whole life struggling to be treated on her own merits, stubbornly wishing for things to be different.
Ida Dalton was right—half the city would snub her, and the other half would make sure she was locked out of their circle of influence forever. There’d always be gossip, sly glances, and whispered reminders of the scandal. She’d always be guilty by association.
It was over.
The smart thing to do would be to stop fighting it.
There was a certain arrogance in thinking she’d be forgiven, anyway. She’d already lost Halsey. They’d never had a real chance. She wasn’t an asset to D4D any longer; her lifelong dream had become a nightmare. She should hand it over to Fin, change her name, and move to Florida.
Salty water blurred her eyes and burned on her cheeks. In her misery, the people who mattered most were being forgotten. The women who raised their families on little but back-breaking work and hope. She still had choices, and she still had means, and she wasn’t near as tough or resourceful as a disadvantaged woman trying to build a better life for her family.
Women who had nothing made sacrifices, took risks, asked for help when they needed it, and gave it to others less fortunate. They did whatever was necessary and had done for generations.
Lenny’s tears stung, but more from the shame of defeat. Florida was Mom’s choice and would be Mal’s salvation, but for her, Florida felt like giving up, and that had never gotten women anywhere.
She looked at the photos. Sonny Ozols would rot in jail, and she’d played a small part in making that happen. Ketija was regal, but she didn’t wait to be made a princess before becoming an engineer. Ida Dalton grinned like she had the secret to life. Ida had carved her own path even though her family didn’t approve. She’d said rogues made the best lovers, never cared for what society thought about her, and was happier for it.
There was a lesson in all that, if only she was brave enough to try it.
Sometimes the only tactic left was to make a mess and break things.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Halsey had done three completely spontaneous things in his life. He’d gotten a tattoo, he’d gone to Lenny in a fever of need, and he’d stolen Cookie Jar’s 1970 forest green Mercedes-Benz 280SL Coupe Roadster.
He could’ve gotten a cousin who specialized in the appropriation of ill-gotten items to take the car, but he was restless, and being back behind his desk wasn’t the solace he’d thought it would be, despite the undeniable satisfaction of a mission accomplished.
Besides that, going to Lenny in a desperate attempt to ask for forgiveness and somehow fooling her into loving him was a wor