The next few days were a blur of panic and damage control. I managed to dodge Elsie’s lunch plans by claiming Clara had me buried under review files, which wasn't entirely a lie. But I couldn't avoid Elsie forever.
When her text came through on Thursday night, it wasn't a request anymore. It was an address.
“The Vance Estate, 9 PM. Private cocktail lounge. You are coming, Liz, no excuses! Amber is still being a pain, and I need backup.”
I stared at the text, then at my mother, who was finally sleeping peacefully thanks to the medicine my new paycheck had bought. I couldn't back out. If I ignored Elsie, she’d come looking for me at the office. My only option was to go, play the part of Elizabeth Monroe for one more night, and pray word didn't get out, so Clara never finds out.
Joan help
