“There’s definitely something off about Natalia. She’s switched tactics—let’s see what she’s really after,” Alicia Shelton whispered.
Winnie Ryan arched an eyebrow. “Well, look at you, Alicia—finally using that brain of yours.”
Alicia grinned sheepishly. “It’s so quiet in class today.”
Without Nicole White around, it really was peaceful.
The two girls stifled their giggles, glancing at each other before slipping out of the classroom, whispering all the way.
Out front, at the school gates.
Clayton Holloway’s car was still there, parked conspicuously at the curb.
Both Alicia and Winnie jumped, looking around anxiously to make sure that imposter was really gone. Only then did they finally believe Nicole was truly in jail.
Clayton greeted Alicia with a charming smile. “Miss Shelton, Miss Ryan—would you ladies do me the honor of joining me for dinner?”
Winnie, not wanting to offend Clayton, kept quiet.
Alicia shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”
She couldn’t say why, but something about getting close to Clayton made her uneasy. Maybe it was the ruthless way he’d handled Nicole. Tyrone Lynch had warned her—Clayton wasn’t as harmless as he seemed.
“Miss Shelton, we’ve known each other for a while now. You could say we’re friends. Nicole pretending to be Ms. White is behind us, but Tyrone’s troubles aren’t over yet. He’s inherited a fortune, but it’s all but useless at the moment. Everyone’s hoping he’ll fail if he tries to start a business—if he does, there’ll be vultures circling, waiting to tear him apart. The safest option is to invest, but small companies are too wary and big corporations just want to rip him off. The only real win-win is if he teams up with the White family, don’t you think?”
Clayton’s smile was dazzling, almost angelic—like he couldn’t possibly have a hidden agenda.
But Alicia saw through him; to her, everything about this man screamed ‘ulterior motive.’
She knew exactly what Clayton was after: he wanted Tyrone to invest with the White family, to funnel the inheritance into their projects. That way, Tyrone’s money would be tied up, and people would stop trying to pry it from his hands.
On paper, it made sense. The returns could be great. But investments were always risky. She needed to talk to Tyrone first.
“I’ll give Tyrone a call,” Alicia said, stepping aside to phone him.
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