The Atlanta sun flooded the terrace of the Carrington estate. Too early for a glass of champagne, but far too late for peace and quiet. Dominique tightened her silk dress around her, perched on her heels, watching the driveway from the bay window.

Dominique had asked for a morning alone, away from the Colby chaos, Fallon's latest gaffe, and that damned article that insinuated her fashion line was "fading." A lie. But a dangerous lie.

And then the car arrived.

A plain black sedan. Private driver. A woman's figure stepped out: young, elegant despite her urban look. Hair pulled back, a confident gaze. And above all... that face. Dominique frowned. There was something familiar about it, another offspring of Blake, her half-brother.