Chapter 3 - The Scramble for Allegiance
Within twenty minutes, the holiday brunch had disintegrated into a disaster of epic proportions. Aunt Melissa and Uncle Ray were packing their coats into their designer luggage with furious whispers, casting poisonous glances at Travis and Zia as they made their hurried exits.
"You're tearing this family apart over a kid who isn't even yours by blood!" Melissa hissed at Travis as she slammed her car door in the driveway.
Travis didn't even blink. "If keeping my family safe means cutting out a cancer, I’ll take the surgeon's knife every single time."
Inside the house, the silence returned, heavier this time. I sat at the kitchen island, staring at the half-eaten cinnamon rolls, my mind spinning. I had known Travis was planning something, but executing a complete legal takeover of his mother’s multi-million-dollar estate was a nuclear option I hadn't anticipated.
"You bought us a house?" I asked softly as Travis walked back inside, hanging his coat on the rack.
"We didn't buy it, honey. We inherited it through my father's true intentions," Travis said, walking over to wrap his arms around me. He kissed the top of my head. "Dad loved Zia from the moment he saw her ultrasound picture. He knew what kind of woman my mother was—he lived with her for forty years. He built a safety net into the estate specifically to protect any child I brought into this home, regardless of what Lorraine tried to pull."
Zia walked in, holding the brass key up to the light. "Does this mean I get to paint my bedroom whatever color I want?"
Travis laughed, the tension finally breaking from his shoulders. "Any color you want, kiddo. Even neon pink with glitter."
May you like
Upstairs, behind closed doors, Lorraine was packing her life into cardboard boxes. But she wasn't planning on leaving quietly. She still had fifty years of social connections, a circle of wealthy neighborhood friends who believed she was the absolute victim, and a bitter resolve to destroy the little girl who had stolen her crown.
By evening, Lorraine’s phone was buzzing incessantly on the guest room nightstand. The war for the estate was only just beginning.
