“And her?”

Laurel’s question hung between them.

Nolan looked at Camille, then back at his wife.

“Camille understands the world I live in.”

Laurel felt her daughter move again.

“And I don’t?”

“You used to.”

Five years of marriage ended in those three words.

Camille lowered her eyes, but Laurel caught the smile forming at the corner of her mouth.

Nolan straightened his jacket.

“I’ll have the driver take you home. We’ll discuss everything tomorrow.”

“No,” Laurel said.

His expression changed.

“No?”

“I won’t be going home with your driver.”

“Laurel, don’t be ridiculous.”

She reached into her small evening bag and removed a folded white card.

For the first time that evening, Nolan looked uncertain.

“What is that?”

“A reminder.”

“Of what?”

Laurel handed it to him.

He unfolded it.

The card contained only an address and a time.

Pierce Urban Holdings.
Executive Conference Room.
Monday, 9:00 A.M.

Nolan stared at it.

“Why would you be coming to my office?”

Laurel smiled faintly.

“You’ll find out.”

Camille laughed.

“Oh, sweetheart. Are you planning to embarrass him at work too?”

Laurel turned toward her.

“No, Camille. You’ve done enough embarrassing for all three of us.”

Then she walked away.

Nobody stopped her.

Outside Halcyon Hall, snow was beginning to fall over Manhattan.

Laurel stood beneath the awning, shivering in her ruined dress.

A black sedan pulled up.

The rear door opened.

An older woman stepped out wearing a charcoal coat and carrying a leather briefcase.

Evelyn Hart.

Seventy-one years old.

Silver-haired.

And one of the most feared corporate attorneys in New York.

“Laurel,” Evelyn said softly.

Laurel’s composure finally broke.

“He said I had nowhere to go.”

Evelyn looked at the champagne stains across Laurel’s stomach.

For a moment, something dangerous moved behind her eyes.

“Then I suppose it’s time we showed him exactly how wrong he is.”

She opened the car door.

Laurel climbed inside.

Evelyn followed.

The driver pulled away.

For several minutes neither woman spoke.

Then Evelyn opened her briefcase.

Inside lay a thick folder stamped with the words:

PRIVATE TRUST DOCUMENTS.

Laurel stared at it.

“Are you certain?”

“Completely.”

“And the board?”

“They’ve been informed.”

Laurel closed her eyes.

She had spent eleven months preparing for a day she hoped would never come.

Eleven months gathering documents, speaking with accountants, and listening to Evelyn explain the truth about the fortune her late grandmother had left behind.

Nolan believed Laurel had inherited a modest apartment and a few sentimental pieces of jewelry.

He had never asked for details.

He preferred believing his wife had nothing without him.

That arrogance had been useful.

Evelyn removed a document.

“Your grandmother’s trust has held its position in Pierce Urban Holdings since the company’s first major financing round.”

Laurel nodded.

“Forty-one percent.”

“Forty-one percent of the voting shares,” Evelyn corrected. “And effective control over the founder’s special voting rights.”

Laurel looked out at the falling snow.

Nolan had spent five years treating her like an accessory to his success.

He had never understood that the company he worshipped had been built with money from the family he dismissed.

But Evelyn wasn’t finished.

“There’s something else.”

Laurel turned.

“The Westcott partnership,” Evelyn said, “isn’t what Nolan thinks it is.”

“What do you mean?”

Evelyn placed a photograph on the seat between them.

It showed Nolan entering a private building in Connecticut three weeks earlier.

Beside him stood Camille’s father, Victor Westcott.

And between them was a man Laurel recognized immediately.

Her breath caught.

“No.”

Evelyn nodded.

“Yes.”

The man in the photograph was Daniel Mercer.

Laurel’s former fiancé.

The man who had disappeared from her life six years earlier after being accused of stealing millions from her grandmother’s estate.

And according to the records Evelyn had uncovered, Daniel had been secretly working with Nolan for almost two years.

Laurel stared at the photograph.

“Why would Nolan be meeting him?”

Evelyn’s answer made the car feel suddenly smaller.

“Because, darling, I don’t believe your husband married you for your money.”

Laurel looked at her.

“I believe he married you to find something your grandmother hid.”

And before Laurel could speak, Evelyn added:

“Something worth considerably more than Pierce Urban Holdings.”

END OF PART 2