View Park. Angela Winters

      Kimberly Chase (the outsider) Wife and Mother.

      Kimberly left her troubled childhood behind for a modeling career in New York City, but an unplanned pregnancy marked the beginning of life as Mrs. Michael Chase. Everything she has, though, is threatened by Janet, who reminds her every day that she doesn’t belong.

      CHAPTER 1

      That Chase mansion was something else. Nestled in View Park, the affluent mostly African-American suburb of Los Angeles, it is by far the largest house in the entire community. Glorious, elegant and intimidating begin to touch on it. Most people just call it big, not only because of its size, but because of its residents. A family couldn’t be any bigger than Steven Chase and his clan, and no one was willing to admit how much they ached to know what went on behind the red brick and white columns.

      The house, being only fifteen-thousand square feet was not as big as it could be considering the money the family had. All of the homes they owned around the world focused more on elegance and class than size. Still, it was impressive with seven bedrooms and nine baths, not to mention the exercise room, game room, media room, and library plus more, the home had taken eighteen months to build. Steven had purchased it when it was 8,000 square feet, but as his millions grew, the house next door was purchased, torn down and his wife, Janet, had taken it from there. The stature that blended a sturdy East Coast feel with a flirt of southern gentility rejected any hint of West Coast flash. It resembled something more likely to be in Bel Air or Hollywood Hills with its tall gate, wide driveway filled with Mercedes, Jaguars and Lexus SUVs, large pool with cabanas, basketball court and a Caribbean colonial designed 2,000 square foot guest house. Contemporary frames, marble flooring, cathedral ceilings, granite countertops, five fireplaces and a double staircase that caused mouths to drop while making Town & Country, California Homes, and L.A. Magazine salivate delivered a lasting statement to those far beyond View Park.

      The statement was class, sophistication and most importantly, power. It had to be. After all, the Chase family was one of the richest and most powerful African-American families in the country, the richest on the West Coast. No one could put a label to them, white or black; no matter how hard they tried, using every other rich family existing now and before them. The Chases never accepted any of those labels, seeing themselves as originals in every way. They were born leaders, attractive, well educated, philanthropic and seemingly unfazed by anything. They stayed away from the undesirable black wealth acquired by athletes, actors or entertainers. Only lawyers, doctors, businessmen, educators and politicians made up the world the Chase family ruled.

      When it came to the various scandals, like any good rich family worth their salt, they had plenty. The general consensus among those who talk, and they all talked, was that the Chase family was special. Special in a way that any mistakes they made weren’t as bad as their charitable acts were good. None of their misdeeds seem to trump their place as black royalty. It was a payoff that others were willing to accept. More like…willing to embrace.

      No matter how intense the scandal was, there was never a feeling that the Chase family was out of control. Steven Chase, the conqueror, raised his children similar to the way he had built his business. The foundations were strong and well supported, not only meant to last long after he was gone, but to prosper and dominate far after that. He was the ultimate symbol of that power and his confidence left everyone in awe; especially his own children.

      Only today, that confidence wasn’t as visible as usual. In his home office, elaborately decorated in cherrywood and rich, dark leather, Steven, looking much younger than his fifty-three years, sat uncomfortably behind his desk. He was a distinguished man heavy on control and light on affection for anyone except his wife. Running his hands over his salt and pepper hair, he shook his head in disappointment, his chocolate skin darkened from spending the day before on the golf course; a rare retreat for him.

      His eldest son, Carter, the reluctant gentleman, was thirty and better-looking than any man had a right to be. His conservative style and calm quiet demeanor drove his intense father crazy. Everything about Carter drove him crazy. The boy seemed determined to defy him since the day he was born. He seemed to take delight in doing anything other than what Steven wanted him to and making a success of his defiance.

      Steven didn’t expect today to be any different as he looked at Carter sitting in the chair across the desk from him. Those incredible light eyes he’d inherited from his mother stared back saying he refused to let his father’s anguish affect him.

      “So,” Steven said as he sighed,