The elevator doors slid open with a soft, metallic ping, and the cold air of the hallway rushed into the warmth of the foyer. / Chapter 7 / 16

Chapter 7 - A Queen’s DemiseTen minutes later, Eleanor Vance stepped out of the elevator.

She looked like a ghost of her former self. The immaculately coiffed blonde hair was slightly disheveled, her designer Chanel suit looked like she had slept in it, and her eyes were red-rimmed from crying.

She walked into the penthouse living room, stopping short when she saw me sitting on the sofa with Eli. For a second, the old arrogance flickered in her eyes—the instinctive urge to look down her nose at me. But then she remembered where she was, and who held all the cards.

Eleanor swallowed hard, clasping her trembling hands together.

“Clare,” she said, her voice cracking. “My dear… please.”

“Don't call me your dear, Eleanor,” I said, not bothering to stand up. “You haven't called me that since the day we met. Usually, it was ‘that girl Ryan married out of pity.’”

Eleanor flinched as if she had been physically struck. She looked over at Damian, who was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching her like a hawk.

“I know I haven’t always been kind to you, Clare,” Eleanor said, her voice dropping into a desperate, pleading tone. “I was protective of Ryan. But please… he’s my only son. The police are looking into him. They’re talking about prison time. If you and your brother drop the charges, we can give you money—whatever you want—”

“Money?” I interrupted, letting out a cold, humorless laugh. “Eleanor, do you even know who owns this penthouse? Do you know who owns Ryan’s bank accounts, his cars, and his future?”

Eleanor stared at me, uncomprehending.

“Ryan put everything in my name to hide it from the IRS,” I explained calmly. “Legally speaking, your son is a pauper. He doesn't own a single designer suit, a single luxury car, or a single square foot of real estate. I own it all. Every last cent.”

Eleanor staggered backward, grabbing onto the back of a velvet armchair for support. Her face turned chalk white. “No… that’s impossible… Ryan would never—”

“Ryan was too arrogant to realize that the woman he thought was weak would eventually open her eyes,” I said, standing up with Eli cradled gently in my arms. I walked slowly toward her, stopping just a few feet away.

“You taught Ryan that women were disposable, Eleanor. You raised a monster who thought he could use people, discard them, and never face consequences,” I said, looking directly into her wide, terrified eyes. “And today, that monster finally hit the bottom.”