Chapter 1

My mother-in-law, Martha, walked into the medical spa with eight of her church friends, demanding full-set anti-aging treatments for fifty dollars a person.

She actually claimed she was doing me a favor by bringing in business.

I flat-out refused on the spot.

"Martha, the full anti-aging package is ninety-eight hundred dollars per person. For nine of you, that's nearly ninety thousand dollars. Fifty bucks won't even cover a bottle of toner."

She didn't listen to a single word. Instead, she waved her friends deeper into the lobby.

"You own this entire place! What's wrong with giving your own family a discount? It's not like I'm asking you to pay out of pocket!"

With that, she and her posse completely took over the lobby lounge.

Looking at this room full of middle-aged women waiting for luxury facials, I couldn't help but laugh.

It wasn't even about the money.

The real issue was that I didn't own this spa at all.

My clinic was right next door.

Martha made herself right at home on the most expensive aesthetician bed, a twenty-four-karat gold leaf mask smoothing over her face, sipping herbal tea a receptionist had brought over.

Then, she demanded a deep-infusion eye-firming treatment.

I recognized that serum instantly. It was imported from France, retailing at twenty-eight hundred dollars a vial.

Her eight friends crowded onto the chairs nearby, their necks craned to watch Martha soak in the luxury, their eyes dripping with pure envy.

"Oh, Martha, you're so generous, treating all of us to such a high-end spa day!"

"Seriously! I heard these gold leaf masks are what Hollywood A-listers use. A single sheet costs hundreds!"

"Having a son whose wife owns a place like this... Martha, you really hit the jackpot!"

Basking in their endless flattery, Martha looked like she was floating on air. Her smile was practically splitting her face in two.

She waved a dismissive hand, her tone dripping with smug pride.

"Oh, it's nothing! My son's wife knows how to show respect. She owns this whole joint! What's wrong with bringing my girls in for a little pampering?"

She turned her head toward me.

"Claire, sweetie, go do whatever you need to do. Don't worry about us; we girls just want to relax."

I stood there and stared at her for two straight seconds, barely swallowing a burst of laughter.

Do whatever I need to do?

I turned on my heel and walked straight toward the exit without lingering for a second.

I knew down to the exact penny how insanely expensive this place was.

The ninety-eight hundred dollars a head I had quoted earlier? That was the pricing for my own clinic.

This place?

It was strictly more expensive.

The only reason I was even here today was to test out a brand-new, medical-grade serum they had just imported.

As a clinic owner, I had to test wholesale products on my own skin before placing a massive order.

Who could have guessed that by pure coincidence, Martha would barge in right then with eight of her friends?

My brain had literally short-circuited when she walked through the doors.

Right in front of her friends, Martha had bellowed across the room, "Look, Claire's here! Perfect timing! This is the medical spa my son's wife owns. Ladies, get whatever you want today! Fifty bucks a head, and we're getting the whole works!"

I had opened my mouth to explain, but she hadn't given me a single second to speak.

The eight women had already swarmed inside like a flock of seagulls.

Standing in the doorway, watching the entire room packed with ladies demanding luxury facials, I had felt a strange cocktail of emotions.

This spa wasn't mine.

Mine was right next door.

I had been running my medical aesthetic clinic for three whole years, keeping it completely hidden from Martha.

It wasn't that I enjoyed keeping secrets; I simply didn't dare tell her.

I knew her way too well. I knew exactly what kind of person she was. If she ever found out I owned a clinic, she would treat my business like her personal ATM.

Turns out, my gut instinct was dead-on.

Yesterday, I had accidentally slipped up, and today, she had showed up with an entire cavalry.

My best friend had come over for dinner last night, and during our chat, she had casually mentioned a new product line arriving at my clinic.

Martha had been carrying dishes out of the kitchen and overheard every single word.

She hadn't said a thing at the time.

Instead, first thing this morning, she had called all eight of her church buddies.

At one in the afternoon sharp, nine women had marched right up to this spa's front doors.

And I, by sheer twist of fate, was right there testing products.

Fate truly had a twisted sense of humor.

I stepped out through the front doors of the spa.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from my husband, Ethan.

"Why do you have to be so petty? Martha just went in for a facial and you're already throwing a fit?"

I stared at the screen for three seconds, took a deep breath, and typed back:

"Martha gave them fifty dollars and demanded ten-thousand-dollar treatments. For nine people, that's nearly ninety thousand dollars."