After my husband threw me out of the house after our divorce, I took the old bank card my father had left behind and used it at a branch in the U.S., sending the whole bank lobby into a stir as the staff hurriedly called the manager over, and the words “Look at the name on this account!” revealed a family secret I had never known.

“Surely it’s a bluff,” Aniya shrieked. “She can’t be that smart. Surely she… surely she hooked up with some old rich man. Yes, that’s it. She’s a kept woman.”

Quacy wasn’t listening.

“She wants to audit my company. What am I going to do?”

Aniya’s panic transformed into anger.

“That woman. Who does she think she is, coming back and ruining everything? I’ll handle her,” Aniya hissed.

“Handle what? Don’t get involved.”

But Aniya already had a plan. She knew where the new Black elite of Atlanta gathered. She would find Zelica. She would humiliate that woman in public, reminding her who she really was.

A few days later, through a friend, Aniya discovered Zelica’s location: a luxury boutique café in the new office area of Buckhead.

Aniya arrived with full force—designer clothes from the latest season, a flashy bag, heavy makeup.