Chapter 2

Now Vivienne stood in front of me with the same chin-up certainty her mother had worn twenty years ago, and I looked at her and felt something go very still inside me.

"Vivienne," I said, "your mother chose to enter another woman's marriage. She knew what she was doing. That's not a trait I want introduced to my family."

Ethan's head jerked up, staring at me. He hadn't expected me to be this direct.

Vivienne's eyes went bright with anger, but she held her ground. "In love, the one who isn't loved is the intruder. My parents were meant for each other. Your marriage was already over — the failure of it wasn't their fault."

"My father told me you were a selfish person," she added. "He was right."

"You're only blocking this relationship to punish my mother. You want to use your own son as a weapon. I won't let you."

I was shaking. I hadn't expected to still be capable of shaking.

She said the one who isn't loved is the intruder. She said the failure of your marriage wasn't their fault. She said you're selfish. You're using him as a weapon.

These were Melissa's words. Exactly Melissa's words. Standing in my own home twenty years ago, certain and unrepentant, grinding my life into dust with the phrase true love.

And now her daughter stood in the same room, wearing the same certainty.

While my son watched and said nothing.

"Children raised by a cheater and the woman he cheated with," I said quietly, "don't tend to develop a healthy sense of right and wrong. I was wrong to expect a real conversation. You should go. You're not welcome in my home."

"Mum, can you not—" Ethan started.

"Ethan." Vivienne pulled her arm free of his. "You need to choose. Right now. Which side are you on?"

He broke out in a sweat. "Vivienne, please — give her a little time, she just needs—"

"Time?" Her voice cut. "I've given you enough of my time. Your mother destroyed my parents' reputation. They were shunned everywhere. I was bullied at school because of her. We had to move away. Do you have any idea what that was like? And I still chose to love you. But I will not stand here and let someone insult my family while you say nothing." She looked at me. "You're not protecting your son. You're controlling him. And I refuse to be your target."

She picked up her bag.

"Ethan. Come with me right now, or we're done."

He froze. One hand on the door handle. The knuckles white.

He stood there for a long time. Then he said, voice strained: "Mum, I know you need time. Let me take her out of here so you can cool down. I'll come back."

And he left.

He thought I was bluffing.

He'd seen me do it before — threaten to walk away, then open the door again the moment he cried. He knew my threats. He knew my love.

The moment they were gone, I picked up my phone.

"Gemma." My assistant answered on the second ring. Her voice carried that slight surprise of someone expecting an early night.

"I need a few things handled tonight."

"Go ahead."

I kept my voice level. This was a business conversation.

"First: every bank account in Ethan's name — the linked accounts, the credit cards, the savings — I want them all frozen by morning. Every one."

A pause.

"...Understood, Ms. Whitmore. On what grounds?"

"They're supplementary accounts under my name. I'm withdrawing my support. No grounds needed."

"Of course."

"Second: his title. Managing Director. I want the paperwork prepared to rescind the appointment before the offices open tomorrow. I'll sign at nine."

Longer silence this time.

Whitmore Enterprises was mine. I'd built it on nothing — on a market stall, on stock bought with waitressing tips, on years of barely sleeping. I'd given Ethan the finest education. I'd handed him a company and a corner office while other men his age were still starting from zero.

I'd named him Ethan because I wanted him to be solid, dependable — someone who could weather anything and still stand firm.

Instead, he'd kicked the door open and walked out.

So I was taking it all back.

"One more thing," I said. "The Lakeside Residence — the apartment he's been living in. It's under my name. Have legal draw up the notice to reclaim it. Three days for him to vacate."

"Ms. Whitmore..." Gemma hesitated. "Does Ethan know?"

"He will, when he's notified."

"And the car?"

"The Porsche is registered to the company. Have someone collect it tomorrow."

"Yes, Ms. Whitmore."

I hung up and set my phone on the nightstand.