The morning sun hit the glass tower of Vale Meridian Holdings like a scalpel. Margaret and his father, Arthur, sat at the end of the mahogany boardroom table, their faces pale but their postures rigid with defensive pride. Vanessa sat behind them, furiously typing on her phone, trying to maintain an illusion of control. They had brought three high-priced defense attorneys, men who looked around the room with the practiced confidence of wolves.
Then I walked in. I wasn’t wearing the soft linen dresses Daniel liked. I wore a tailored, midnight-black suit, my hair pulled back, the bruise on my cheek entirely uncovered.
“This is an outrage!” Arthur slammed his hand on the table. “You used fraud to infiltrate our family! Our lawyers will have this marriage annulled and your fraudulent acquisition thrown out of court!”
I didn’t sit. I stood at the head of the table, resting my hands on the polished wood. “Arthur, you didn’t look at the contract you signed three years ago. Vale Meridian didn’t infiltrate you. You begged us for a lifeline when your offshore gambling debts threatened to leak to the press.”
