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The kitchen was so quiet you could hear the distant murmur of the jazz trio outside, playing as if the world hadn't just tilted on its axis. Grant stared at the single sheet of thick parchment resting against the cold Italian marble. His breath caught, a shallow, ragged hitch that gave away his panic before his voice ever could. / Chapter 14 / 20

Chapter 14 - The Uninvited Guest

A sharp knock echoed at my private office door just as I finished reviewing the Palm Beach files.

Before I could answer, the heavy oak door swung open. Standing in the threshold was a woman I hadn't seen since the night of the disastrous housewarming party: Eleanor’s counterpart, or rather, someone from Grant’s side of the family—his older sister, Victoria.

Victoria Whitmore had always looked down her nose at me, treating my quiet demeanor as a sign of weakness. Now, her designer coat was rumpled, her expression frantic, and her posture lacking its usual haughty stiffness.

"Lena," she said, marching into the room as if she still had a right to demand an audience. "We need to talk."

I didn't stand up. I simply leaned back in my leather chair and looked at her. "Victoria. Security must be slipping downstairs, or they wouldn't have let someone without an appointment past the lobby."

"Don't play games with me," Victoria spat, slamming her handbag onto the edge of my desk. "Grant is rotting in a federal penitentiary, our family name has been dragged through every tabloid in Connecticut, and you’re sitting up here playing corporate queen! You knew he was drowning, and you let him fall!"

"Grant didn't fall, Victoria," I said, my voice dropping into a dangerous, icy calm. "He jumped. He built a lifestyle on stolen Beaumont money, lied to his investors, brought his mistress into my home, and invited half of Greenwich to watch him mock our marriage. If anything, I gave him the softest landing he deserved."

"He’s your husband!" she shrieked.

"He was a parasite," I corrected, pressing the intercom button on my desk. "And you seem to have forgotten that I don't fund charity cases anymore."

The door opened instantly. Two towering security guards stepped into the room, their expressions stone-cold.

"Escort Ms. Whitmore out of the building," I instructed, looking back down at my paperwork. "And ensure her name is permanently blacklisted from all Beaumont properties nationwide."

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Victoria glared at me with pure venom as the guards grabbed her arms. "You’re a cold, unfeeling monster, Lena!"

"No, Victoria," I whispered as they dragged her toward the hallway. "I’m just a woman who finally checked the deed."

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