Richard stared at me as if he were seeing a complete stranger. For the first time in his life, he realized he had no leverage over me. He slammed the door hard enough to rattle the glass and stomped back toward the courtyard, where guests were frantically piling into valeted cars under the watchful eyes of four private security guards.

I put the Volvo in drive and pulled out of the gates of Ashford Manor. In my rearview mirror, the grand wrought-iron gates were slowly closing behind me, sealing off the darkened estate.

My phone rang again on the dashboard console. This time, the caller ID showed an unlisted number with a New York area code.

I tapped the speakerphone button. “Marianne Ashford.”

“Ms. Ashford,” a deep, polished male voice answered. “My name is Julian Vance. I am the managing partner at Vance & Sterling Legal. I believe you received the footage my team pulled from the estate security cameras five minutes ago?”

I paused, merging onto the highway. “Arthur Vance’s firm?”

“Arthur is my uncle,” Julian replied smoothly. “And as per your standing orders regarding trust security violations, my office has already drafted three formal notices. One for civil battery against Natalie Ashford, one for defamation against the bridal party members caught on audio, and an immediate freezing order on all credit lines tied to the Ashford Trust.”

May you like

I took a deep breath, feeling the warm air from the car heater hit my freezing ankles. “Execute all of them, Mr. Vance.”

“With pleasure,” Julian said, a subtle edge of satisfaction in his tone. “Oh, and Ms. Ashford? Welcome to the fight. Grandmother Rose always said you’d wake up eventually.”

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