Chapter 2
Julian stared at the red cord lying between his polished dress shoes. A smirk touched the corner of his mouth. "What is that supposed to be? Some dramatic peasant ritual? You really think theatrical nonsense is going to save you from a divorce court?"
"You've had five years to prove what you were made of, Julian," Eleanor said, her voice dropping into a chilling, unfamiliar register.
"I made myself into a titan while you played housewife on an allowance!" Julian sneered, stepping closer until his cologne overpowered the scent of the foyer flowers. "You brought nothing to my table. You gave me a sickly daughter and a threadbare apartment. Genevieve’s father brings a nine-figure logistics network. So take your pride, take your brat, and crawl back to whatever gutter you crawled out of."
"Genevieve’s father owns nothing that wasn't mortgaged to the hilt three months ago," Eleanor replied calmly.
Genevieve gasped, her face flushing crimson. "How dare you! My father is Marcus Sterling! He could buy your entire bloodline with pocket change!"
"Shut her up, Julian," Genevieve hissed, tugging at his arm. "She’s insane. Look at her. A cheap off-the-rack suit and delusions of grandeur."
Eleanor didn't look at Genevieve. She reached into the interior breast pocket of her tailored blazer. She didn't pull out a cheap smartphone with a cracked screen. She withdrew a matte-black, titanium-encased satellite phone with no commercial branding—an encrypted terminal issued exclusively to the executive board of Blackwood Global.
Julian frowned, his arrogance faltering for a fraction of a second. "Where did you get that?"
Eleanor pressed her thumb against the biometric scanner. The screen flared to life, illuminating her fair, sculpted cheekbones in stark white light. She tapped a single, dedicated speed-dial key and brought the device to her ear.
The line didn't ring twice. A voice answered instantly—deep, gravelly, and vibrating with absolute deference.
"Director Blackwood," the voice said over the speaker. "We have tracked your transponder. Are you ready?"
Eleanor kept her eyes locked on Julian’s face. "Harrison. Tell my father I'm done hiding."
A heavy, breathless pause echoed over the satellite link. "Understood, ma'am. And the protocols?"
"Lift all restrictions," Eleanor commanded, her voice cutting through the foyer like a guillotine. "Unfreeze the shadow trusts. Revoke every third-party proxy granted under the Vance surname. Authorize full executive deployment. I am stepping back into the light."
"At once, Miss Blackwood," Harrison replied. "The Chairman is already in the main ballroom. He has been waiting for this call for five years."
The call disconnected with a sharp, digital beep.
Julian burst into loud, mocking laughter, though the sound was slightly too high, slightly too fast. "Who was that? An actor you hired with my credit card? 'Director Blackwood'? You're a Vance, Eleanor! A nobody whose parents died in an auto shop in New Jersey!"
"You really believed that story, didn't you?" Eleanor murmured softly.
May you like
"I believed it because you look like trash, you live like trash, and without my name, you have nothing!" Julian yelled, pointing a finger at her chest. "Now get out before I have you arrested for trespassing!"
"I'm not leaving, Julian," Eleanor said, shifting Maya comfortably in her arms and kissing the child’s warm temple. "We have a party to attend."
