Chapter 3 - The Queen’s Command
Margaret stood in the grand entryway, her hands resting aggressively on her hips, tapping a manicured fingernail against her handbag.
"Well? Are you deaf, Maya?" Margaret snapped, stepping closer and wrinkling her nose as if my presence offended her senses. "I asked you a question. Why are you standing in the middle of the foyer instead of resting upstairs? And where is Julian?"
Before I could answer, the sound of footsteps echoed down the grand staircase.
Julian and Chloe appeared on the landing. Julian was buttoning the cuffs of his shirt, laughing at something Chloe had whispered, right up until his eyes locked onto mine standing by the front door.
The color drained from Julian’s face so fast he looked like a ghost.
Chloe froze beside him, her fingers clutching the lapels of my silk robe in sudden panic.
"Maya..." Julian stammered, stumbling down the last two steps. "You... you're home. Why didn't you call? We... we were expecting you tomorrow."
"You were expecting me tomorrow?" I repeated, my voice terrifyingly calm, cutting through the cavernous foyer like a razor blade. "That's odd, Julian. Because this morning you swore on your life you'd be at the hospital by nine to pick us up. Did you lose track of the days while playing dress-up upstairs?"
Margaret whipped her head around, staring between her son and Chloe standing on the stairs in my bathrobe. A normal mother would have been horrified. Margaret, however, merely tightened her lips into a hard, defensive line.
"Don't make a scene, Maya," Margaret hissed, stepping forward to shield Julian with her own body. "You just had a baby; your hormones are clearly out of control. It’s ungraceful."
"A scene?" I let out a quiet, chilling laugh. "Margaret, your son is entertaining a woman in my marital bed while wearing my clothes, and I'm the one being ungraceful?"
"Julian is a successful businessman under immense pressure!" Margaret defended instantly, waving a dismissive hand. "Chloe is an old family friend offering him professional support during a difficult merger. If you spent less time playing the victim and more time supporting his career, perhaps he wouldn't need to look elsewhere for intelligent company!"
Chloe, sensing she had an ally in Margaret, regained her composure. She stepped down the stairs, pulling the silk robe tighter around her waist with a smug, condescending smirk.
"Really, Maya," Chloe purred, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. "You should learn to read the room. Not everyone is cut out for the fast-paced life of Richmond's elite. Some women are just meant for suburban quiet."
I looked at the three of them standing there—united in their arrogance, believing they held all the cards, believing I was trapped, dependent, and powerless.
They had no idea who they were dealing with.
I gently unbuckled the baby carrier, carefully lifting sleeping Cora out of it. I walked over to the entryway console table, cleared a small space away from the champagne glasses, and laid my infant daughter down safely in her portable padded bassinet insert, whispering a soft, soothing lullaby to keep her asleep.
Then, I turned around, straightened my shoulders, and pulled my phone from my pocket.
Julian took a cautious step forward, his voice losing its arrogant edge, replaced by nervous desperation. "Maya... put the phone down. Let's talk about this like adults. We can work this out."
"Work what out?" I asked, unlocking my screen. "You made your choice, Julian. Now you get to live with the math."
I pressed speed dial number one and put the phone to my ear.
It rang once. Twice.
On the other end of the line, a deep, resonant, impossibly powerful voice answered instantly.
"Maya, sweetheart. Are you home safe? Where is Julian?"
It was my father.
Not a small-time local businessman. Not a quiet retiree.
Arthur Sterling—no relation to Chloe’s family, but the sole owner and titan behind Sterling-Vance Global Holdings, the multi-billion-dollar international logistics empire that held the primary debt, mortgages, and commercial leases on every single property Julian and his father owned.
May you like
"Dad," I said, my voice echoing clearly through the silent foyer, loud enough for every person in the room to hear. "I'm home. And I need you to execute Protocol Red on Pembroke-Vance Enterprises immediately."
Silence fell over the foyer. Julian went completely pale. Margaret gasped, her eyes widening in sudden, unadulterated terror.
