Chapter 1: Savannah’s Golden Girl

In Savannah, my name was currency—and I spent it with interest.

On those sticky Georgia afternoons, when the air hung thick as molasses and a glass of sweet tea sweated on the porch rail, everyone in the old-money set knew better than to cross me. I’d been raised on silver spoons and whispered secrets, my confidence sharpened by Ivy League summers and debutante balls where fortunes—and friendships—turned on a dime.

The morning my broke fiancé showed up at my front door, even the mansion seemed to hold its breath. The marble floors felt cool under my bare feet, but tension prickled in the air. Jenna, the housekeeper’s daughter—forever chewing her gum and eyeing me like she had the world’s best secret—hovered close, her phone in hand, ready to deliver her verdict.

I was about to agree with her advice, to finally cut the last tie to my past, when a barrage of digital whispers crashed through my mind like a feed of angry tweets:

[@SavannahGossipQueen: Can’t believe the heiress is falling for that act. She’s about to lose everything.]

[@BelleOfBayStreet: The housekeeper’s daughter is playing both sides—bet she ends up married to the richest man in America.]

[@TeaSpillTuesdays: Natalie’s about to lose her crown and her cash.]

My hands clenched tight on the banister as I forced a calm smile, refusing to let Jenna see the rage simmering beneath my skin. No one was going to steal my chance at being richer than all of them combined.

I straightened my shoulders, chin high, and—under Jenna’s resentful glare—hurried to call after my disappointed fiancé as he turned to leave. My voice was cool and commanding: “I can let you stay by my side—but you have to swear you’ll always be loyal. No matter what.”