Chapter 5 - The Counter-Strike
By 8:00 a.m. the following morning, the scandal of the Grand Marlowe engagement party had become the primary topic of discussion across the city's high society.
A video filmed by a guest had gone viral overnight: Veronica Vale slapping Lena, Adrienne catching Veronica’s wrist with tenderness, and Lena calmly sliding the ring off her finger and pouring brandy over the engagement cake. The tabloids called her "The Broken Bride."
Inside the grand dining room of the Cross estate, Celeste Cross sat at the head of a long mahogany table, her silver coffee cup trembling against its saucer.
Adrienne stood by the window, his tuxedo replaced by a sharp grey suit, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep.
"She isn't answering her phone!" Adrienne snapped, turning around to face his mother. "Her studio is locked! The neighbors said she left in a black car at two in the morning!"
"Calm down, Adrienne!" Celeste hissed, slamming her cup onto the table. "You look weak! The board is already calling emergency sessions regarding Monday’s audit. If the press suspects that the Marlowe deeds are missing, our stock will collapse before the market opens!"
"Then give Veronica what she wants!" Adrienne yelled. "She’s threatening to release our text messages!"
"Veronica Vale is a greedy little worm who can be bought with a piece of property in Aspen!" Celeste snarled, her eyes narrowing into cold slits. "Lena Hart is the problem. She has her father’s blood in her veins. She thinks she's righteous."
The heavy oak doors of the dining room swung open.
The Cross family butler stepped inside, looking unusually pale. "Madam... you have visitors."
"I told you no press!" Celeste shouted.
"It isn't the press, Madam," the butler whispered.
Stepping past the butler, dark, imposing, and completely unbothered by the grand decor, was Julian Vance. And walking right beside him, dressed in a sharp, tailored black suit with her dark hair pinned up into a sleek, professional crown, was Lena Hart.
Her left cheek still bore a faint, faint shadow of a mark, but she held her head so high that the mark looked less like an injury and more like a war medal.
Adrienne froze. "Lena..."
Celeste rose slowly from her chair, her eyes darting between Julian and Lena with venomous fury. "Julian Vance. You have no business in this house. And you—" She pointed a long, manicured finger at Lena. "—you are trespassing on private property. Leave before I have security throw you out."
"Security won't be touching anyone today, Celeste," Julian said smoothly, stepping into the room and pulling out a chair for Lena. She sat down with effortless grace, resting her hands on the table.
"What is this?" Adrienne demanded, stepping forward, his voice rising in desperation. "Lena, what are you doing with this man? He’s a shark! He’s trying to ruin my family!"
Lena looked at Adrienne. For two years, she had thought his blue eyes were handsome, soft, and deep. Now, looking at him, she saw only emptiness—a hollow boy hiding behind his mother’s apron.
"Your family ruined itself, Adrienne," Lena said, her voice ringing clear through the dining room. She pulled a single white sheet of paper from her leather portfolio and slid it across the table. "This is a formal notice of freeze on all Cross Global accounts, issued by the High Court thirty minutes ago."
Celeste’s hand shot out, grabbing the paper. As her eyes scanned the legal text, the blood drained completely from her face.
May you like
"On what grounds?!" Celeste screamed, her composure finally breaking into ugly, jagged pieces. "This is illegal! You have no standing!"
"I have every standing, Celeste," Lena said quietly, leaning forward, her dark eyes locking onto the older woman’s terrified face. "Because I am not just Thomas Hart’s daughter. I am the sole surviving grand-niece of Eleanor Marlowe. Which makes me the legitimate owner of seventy percent of the land your hotel sits on."
