Chapter 2 - The $300,000 UltimatumBy the time I reached the grand mahogany staircase, Ryan was right behind me, his heavy shoes pounding on the hardwood. He caught my shoulder, spinning me around with enough force to slam my back against the banister.
“Are you out of your absolute mind?” he hissed, his face inches from mine. The smell of bourbon and expensive cologne washed over me. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was? My mother is shaking!”
“Let go of me, Ryan.”
“Not until you fix this.” His eyes narrowed, desperation flashing beneath the anger. “Your father is coming over tomorrow morning for brunch. You are going to sit him down, and you are going to ask him to wire the $300,000 for the Southport property partnership. My name has to be on the primary deed, Chloe. If you don't secure that cash by noon, don't bother coming back to this house.”
A cold, sharp laugh escaped my throat.
The Southport property partnership. For six months, Ryan had been pitching me this grand commercial real estate venture with his “business partner,” a slick character named Chad who drove a leased Porsche and wore sunglasses indoors. Ryan had begged, manipulated, and guilt-tripped me to convince my father—a self-made multi-millionaire who detested lazy men—to invest.
My father had wisely refused every single time, telling me over private phone calls: “Ryan doesn't want to build a business, sweetheart. He wants a lottery ticket.”
“I’m not asking my father for a dime,” I said clearly.
Ryan’s expression darkened into pure venom. He gripped my jaw with his thumb and forefinger, squeezing hard enough to bruise. “You listen to me, you ungrateful little parasite. Without my name, without my family’s social standing in this town, you’re just a lonely divorcee whose mother died abandoned in a nursing home. Your dad’s money is our money. You signed a post-nup amendment two years ago. Remember? If you walk, you walk with nothing.”
I smiled. It was the first real smile I had worn in years.
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“Ah, the post-nup,” I whispered, leaning in close so only he could hear. “You might want to check the filing date on that document, Ryan. Legal documents have a funny habit of expiring when fraud is involved.”
Before he could process my words, I raised my knee sharply, catching him square in the thigh. As he stumbled back with a sharp gasp of pain, I turned, ran up the stairs, and locked the master bedroom door behind me.
