Chapter 11
Marcus laughed when I accused him.
“You think everything is a takeover.”
“I think you attacked me four years ago.”
Silence.
“And stole the woman I intended to marry.”
Silence.
“And wore my proposal ring on your sister’s hand.”
Celeste looked down.
The missing ring had left a pale band around her finger.
I continued.
“You watched my daughter for three years.”
No answer.
“You moved Mae back into my house.”
Still nothing.
“Now you want access to my father’s routes.”
Marcus smiled.
“There. Your father.”
“What?”
“He built everything.”
“And?”
“You inherited too young.”
I almost laughed.
Thirty-one at the time.
“Your point?”
“The organization needed balance.”
Celeste added:
“Wainwright balance.”
There it was.
They believed they were rescuing my empire from me.
Marcus continued:
“Your father understood partnerships.”
“My father hated yours.”
His expression shifted.
Good.
I knew something he hoped I didn’t.
“Why?”
I asked.
Marcus said nothing.
Mae looked toward the piano.
“Because of Evelyn Ashford.”
My mother.
Dead nine years.
I turned.
“What?”
Mae hesitated.
“Your mother knew the Wainwrights.”
Celeste’s face changed.
“How do you know that?”
Mae touched the piano.
“She taught me here.”
Memory returned.
Mae had been invited to Ashford House years before we met because my mother funded young musicians.
I had forgotten.
Mae continued:
“Evelyn told me never to trust a Wainwright invitation.”
Marcus stepped forward.
“Shut up.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
Mae stared at Celeste.
“Because Evelyn said their family tried to enter Ashford command once before.”
Silence.
Celeste laughed nervously.
“Old gossip.”
Mae shook her head.
“She said Marcus’s father tried through marriage.”
My chest tightened.
Same pattern.
Different generation.
Marcus snapped:
“This has nothing to do with today.”
“No?”
I held up the engraved ring.
“You stole a proposal.”
I looked at Celeste.
“Replaced the bride.”
Then Marcus.
“And tried to turn marriage into access.”
His face hardened.
History had not inspired them.
It had given them a blueprint.
Then one of my bodyguards entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“There’s a man at the north gate.”
“Who?”
The guard looked at Marcus.
May you like
“His father.”
And suddenly the person who taught them the blueprint was standing outside my house.
