Chapter 2

The phone rang at 7:10 AM.

I woke up on the living room couch. My back ached terribly. The thin blanket did nothing against the night chill.

I answered the call. It was Mount Sinai Hospital.

My grandfather, Victor Hawthorne, had collapsed. He suffered a sudden medical emergency during a late-night board meeting. He was in surgery.

I hadn't spoken to him in years. But a cold spike of fear hit my chest. I threw on a coat. I ran out to the garage.

My parking spot was empty.

Our shared SUV was gone. Grant had taken it.

I pulled out my phone and called my husband. He answered on the third ring.

"What is it?" he asked. His voice was irritated. In the background, I heard soft music and women chatting.

"Where are you?" I asked. "Where is the car?"

"I'm out," Grant said. "Bianca has an early fitting for tonight’s investment reception. I need the car today."

"It’s barely seven in the morning." I said. My voice cracked. "Grant, I need the car. The hospital just called. My grandfather is in emergency surgery."

Silence on the other end. Then, a heavy, impatient sigh.

"Elena, be reasonable," Grant said in his perfectly calm, logical business voice. "You haven't spoken to that old man in years. He's basically a stranger. I am not canceling my crucial schedule for this."

"Crucial schedule?" I choked out. "You are watching your mistress try on clothes!"

"Don't be dramatic," he snapped. "Take a cab. And Elena?"

"What?"

"Don't use the joint account for the fare," he warned. "It's a personal expense."

He hung up.

I stood in the cold, empty garage. I stared at the dark screen of my phone. My breathing grew ragged.

Suddenly, the screen lit up. It was a bank alert from our joint account.

Scheduled Payment Processed: $60,000 to Cartier.

He told me to pay for my own cab. But he just used our joint account to pay the deposit on Bianca's necklace.

I didn't scream. The pain was too deep for that. Instead, a bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips. I ordered a cab with my personal card.

---

I arrived at the hospital forty minutes later.

Victor was awake. He looked small in the stark hospital bed. He was seventy-eight years old. He was the legendary founder of the Hawthorne Hotel Group. Now, he just looked fragile.

"You came," he rasped.

"I came," I said quietly. I sat by his bed.

My mother had hated him. She ran away from the Hawthorne family years ago. But looking at him now, I felt a heavy sense of duty.

Victor waved his lawyer over. The lawyer handed me a thick folder.

"I am stepping down," Victor said. His voice was weak, but his eyes were sharp.

He looked at me intently. "You ran from this family, Elena. But you still have my blood. And right now, the group needs a strong leader."

He tapped the heavy folder. "I am transferring my controlling voting rights to you, The emergency succession resolution has already been signed. Effective tonight, you will serve as Chairman."

I looked at the documents. My name was already printed on the dotted lines. Elena Hawthorne.

"There is something else," Victor said. He coughed weakly. "Your husband. Grant Holloway."

I froze. "What about him?"

"His company is bidding for our new billion-dollar resort project," Victor said. "He made it to the final shortlist."

Victor watched my face closely. He knew my marriage was falling apart. He didn't know the ugly details, but he knew enough.

"Elena," Victor asked softly. "Need me to delete him from the list right now?"

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I took it out. It was a message from Grant.

He had sent me a new spreadsheet. It detailed the month's shared expenses, right down to the last dollar.

Please transfer your half of the utilities by tonight, the message read.

I stared at the screen. My vision blurred for a second.

He wanted me to pay for the water bill. But he wanted me to pay for his mistress's necklace. He wanted me to pay for the house he stole from me.

I wiped my eyes. I looked up at Victor.

"No," I said calmly. "Let him attend the final bidding."

I didn't want him quietly removed. I wanted him to stand on that stage.

I wanted to watch him beg for the very money he tried to steal from me.