flash
Judge Beckett gestured quietly toward the bailiff, who brought two small chairs to the side of the bench where Nolan and Parker could sit safely out of the fray. The boys gripped their juice boxes, watching their father with wide, uncertain eyes. Gavin didn’t look at them; his gaze was fixed on the beige folder resting beneath the judge’s right hand. / Chapter 5 / 20

Chapter 5 - Sloane’s Exit Strategy

Sloane Pierce spent the evening trying to salvage her career. As the company’s director of public relations, she recognized a sinking ship long before the hull submerged completely.

She met Cassandra in the quiet lounge of the Four Seasons hotel downtown, offering an envelope containing internal emails, private off-book communications, and logs detailing Gavin’s attempts to divert corporate funds into offshore accounts prior to filing for divorce.

"I didn't know the truth about the company structure, Mrs. Bellamy," Sloane said nervously, pushing the envelope across the small glass table. "Gavin told me you were just a homemaker who was draining his accounts. I was protecting the brand."

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She sl@pped my 66-year-old mother across the face, called her ""the maid,"" and proudly told everyone the house belonged to her. She had no idea I was the real owner—and by the end of that dinner, her perfect little lie would explode in front of every guest.

She sl@pped my 66-year-old mother across the face, called her ""the maid...

I did not scream. I did not hurl insults, smash crystal, or offer Evelyn Bennett the spectacle she so desperately craved.

I did not scream. I did not hurl insults, smash crystal, or offer Evelyn...

The door to the guest room locked with a quiet, satisfying click. Outside, the muffled sounds of Derek shouting about the ruined risotto faded into the background, drowned out by the thunderous beat of my own heart.

The door to the guest room locked with a quiet, satisfying click. Outsid...

Cassandra looked at the envelope without touching it.

"You weren't protecting the brand, Ms. Pierce. You were positioning yourself to marry what you thought was a seventy-million-dollar fortune," Cassandra said coolly. "You may leave the files. But your resignation from Rourke Mobility will be on my desk by eight tomorrow morning."

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