Chapter 3
Three days before the ceremony,
Charles Carter's assistant made a phone call. It wasn't made to me; it was made to Grace Turner.
When Grace answered, the assistant said, "Hello, Ms. Turner. Mr. Carter wanted me to let Ms. Carter know—she's invited to the Carter family ceremony at the Bluewave Hotel this Saturday."
Grace covered the phone and mouthed at me, "Are you going?"
I nodded.
Grace let go of the phone. "She's going. And I'm coming with her. Make sure there's a seat for me too."
The assistant was clearly caught off guard, stammering for a few seconds. "Uh, Ms. Turner, the list—"
"Charles is inviting my best friend to watch him name someone else's kid as his heir. You can't expect her to go alone, can you? That's just not right," Grace said.
The assistant, probably not wanting any trouble, said he'd check with Mr. Carter and hung up.
Ten minutes later, the assistant texted back: "Got it. Both seats are reserved."
Grace tossed her phone onto the couch. "He actually invited you?"
"Not surprised," I said.
"What do you mean?" Grace asked.
I picked up my coffee and took a sip.
"He wants to announce Ethan as the heir with me right there watching. If I'm not present, the whole spectacle loses its punch. He needs the ex-wife standing by, just to set off how dazzling his new heir looks," I said.
Grace took a deep breath.
"Emma, what if he tries to embarrass you in front of everyone?" she asked.
"That's not going to happen," I said.
"And how can you be so sure?" Grace pressed.
I set my cup down and met her gaze, dead serious.
"Grace, I'm not going there to be anyone's punching bag," I said.
Grace held my eyes for a long moment, then a slow smile spread across her face.
"Alright," she said, standing up. "Let me go raid my closet for something fabulous. On Saturday, we're showing up looking sharp."
The night before the ceremony, Alex kept to himself in his room for ages, not coming out.
I knocked on his door.
"Alex, about tomorrow—"
The door swung open. Alex stood there in an immaculate white shirt, his hair neat as can be. He didn't look like a high schooler—more like someone about to close a big deal.
"Mom," he said, "you don't need to do anything tomorrow. Just be there."
"I don't have to do anything?" I asked.
"Nothing at all," he repeated, then added softly, "Just sit and watch."
I looked into his eyes—there was a steadiness there that didn't belong to a teenager.
"Okay," I said.
He flashed me a quick smile and closed the door.
I stood in the hallway, listening as his phone buzzed inside—once, twice, three times.
The buzzing was so constant, it sounded like everyone was messaging him at once.
Saturday. Bluewave Hotel.
The lobby was laid out with a red carpet and flower baskets lining both sides. There was a queue at the sign-in desk, and I recognized most of the faces—relatives from the Carter family, business partners, and a few local big shots.
Grace and I stood at the entrance. She wore a striking red suit dress, her lips a bold crimson—like she was ready to go into battle.
"Ready?" she whispered to me.
"Yeah," I replied.
We walked in.
At the sign-in desk, the receptionist paused when she saw my name, then forced a bright smile. "Ms. Carter, your seat is in the third row on the right."
Third row.
I used to sit right in the middle of the front row at The Carter Family events.
Grace started to say something, but I stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Let's go."
We took our seats. Right in the middle of the front row sat Charles and Vanessa. Vanessa was dressed in a white suit, adorned with jewelry, and around her neck was a sapphire pendant about the size of a pigeon's egg.
I recognized that necklace. It was an heirloom passed down from Charles's mother, and he'd given it to me on our wedding day.
Vanessa noticed my gaze and instinctively touched the sapphire, giving me a slight smile.
Ethan sat next to Vanessa, his suit perfectly tailored, hair slicked back with gel—at sixteen, he was trying to pull off the look of a thirty-year-old businessman. He kept glancing around, his leg bouncing nervously, clearly on edge.
On the stage, there was a signing table covered with a red tablecloth, a gold pen holder on top, and uniformed staff flanking either side.
In the center was a folder with the cover facing down, hiding whatever was inside.
"That must be the inheritance papers," Grace whispered.
I didn't say anything.
Guests started filing in and taking their seats. I scanned the room and spotted a few familiar faces. David Price, one of Charles's business partners, was sitting in the second row, chatting animatedly with the person next to him, his signature loud laugh echoing through the room. Linda was sitting right behind me, and she gave me a nod.
There were also some people I didn't know—dressed sharp, sitting up straight, scattered all over the place.
The ceremony kicked off.
A host took the stage and launched into the usual spiel about Carter Holdings, the Carter family legacy, bloodlines, blah blah blah.
Then Charles stepped up onto the stage.
He stood there, scanning the crowd, and his gaze paused on me for half a beat.
"I've invited you all here today to witness a big moment," he began, his voice booming. "Carter Holdings didn't get here easily, and now it needs a gutsy, dependable young man to take over. I'm lucky to have a son like him."
He swept his hand toward the crowd.
Ethan got up, fixed his collar, and walked onto the stage with his head held high.
Vanessa clapped from her seat, tears shining in her eyes, looking like she'd finally hit the jackpot thanks to her son.
Charles put his hand on Ethan's shoulder. "This is my son, Ethan. Starting today, he's the one and only heir to Carter Holdings."
The applause was sparse and half-hearted. I noticed a lot of people were barely clapping, their hands hardly leaving their laps.
Charles didn't pay any mind. He turned, flipped open the folder on the table, grabbed the pen, and was about to sign his name.
Just then, the doors to the banquet hall swung open.
There wasn't much fuss, but every single person turned to see who it was.
Three people stood at the entrance. The one in front was tall, dressed in a dark gray suit, and wore gold-rimmed glasses.
It was Alex.
But this wasn't the Alex I remembered—the kid in a school uniform, always looking down and shuffling his feet. Now, he walked in with his back straight, calm and confident, and his presence alone made everyone go silent without even realizing it.
Behind him were a man and a woman, both in business suits, each carrying a briefcase.
Charles's pen froze in mid-air.
Vanessa's smile stiffened on her face.
Ethan took a half-step back.
Alex walked down the aisle to the front row and stopped. He didn't look at Charles or the stage.
He glanced at me.
Then he adjusted his glasses and spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but everyone in the room could hear him.
"I'm not too late for this ceremony, am I?"
The room fell silent.
Charles's face changed. He set his pen down and stared hard at Alex. "What are you doing here?"
Alex slipped his hands into his suit pockets, his tone flat. "Just wanted to see what kind of stand-in my dad picked out for me."
Ethan's face flushed red as he stepped forward. "Who the hell do you think you are? A piece of trash who got kicked out doesn't belong here."
Alex didn't even spare him a glance.
Alex's eyes never left Charles.
"Charles," Alex called him by his full name, not "Dad." "Did you forget something?"
Charles clenched his fists. "Get out. You have no right to speak here."
Alex lifted his chin, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Are you sure about that?"
He glanced back at the two people behind him. The woman opened her briefcase and pulled out a file folder.
"Are you sure you want to throw me out before you even know who I am?"
Charles shot to his feet, his chair sliding back with a loud scrape.
"Alex, who the hell do you think you are? A piece of trash I cut off, and you think you can just show up here causing a scene? Security!"
But the security guards didn't move.
The two at the door just stood there, like they were nailed to the floor.
Charles turned to look at the security guards, his brow furrowing.
Alex stood there, completely still.
"Dad," Alex suddenly changed his tone—so gentle it sent a chill down everyone's spine. "Do you even know who your company signed that huge deal with last month?"
Charles's lips moved, but no words came out.
Alex went on, "Do you have any idea whose servers your company's data systems, client records, and supply chain info are actually stored on?"
Someone in the room sucked in a sharp breath.
David's smile vanished. He straightened up, his eyes darting between Alex and Charles.
Alex took the folder from the woman behind him, opened it, and pulled out a document.
He held it up high, making sure everyone could see.
"This is a notarized document. The one officially disowning me as your son. The one you forced my mom to sign."
He paused.
"Do you even know what this notarized document actually means for you?" Alex said.
Alex finally tore his eyes away from Charles and scanned the room.
"Legally, I have zero ties to Carter Holdings now."
A smirk played at his lips.
"Which also means I don't have to keep holding onto the most valuable assets of Carter Holdings anymore."
Charles's face turned pale as a ghost.