Chapter 3 - The True Bloodline
Adrien stumbled backward, his espresso splashing onto the pristine mahogany table.
"Ashford?" Adrien stammered, raw panic bleeding into his voice. "Charles Ashford? The London syndicate? Why the hell is the apex predator of Wall Street coming after a mid-level tech firm? I don't even know him!"
"You don't know him, Adrien," a cold, even voice echoed from the hallway. "But you know his daughter."
The heavy glass doors of the boardroom swung open.
Four heavily armed private security contractors stepped into the room in perfect synchronization, forcing the European delegates and the CFO back against the windows.
Then, Charles Ashford walked in.
He was a terrifying force of nature, radiating the kind of quiet, lethal authority that could only be bought with generations of ruthless power. And walking directly beside him, wearing a flawless tailored trench coat that draped elegantly over her seven-month baby bump, was Evelyn.
Adrien physically staggered. His brain short-circuited as he stared at the woman he had left weeping by a kettle exactly two hours ago.
She wasn't crying anymore. Her posture was flawless. Her chin was lifted. She looked at Adrien not like a heartbroken wife, but like a queen inspecting a ruin she had just ordered to be burned.
May you like
"Evelyn?" Adrien choked out, his eyes darting frantically between her and the billionaire titan standing beside her. "What... what are you doing here? Who is this?"
"I am the man whose grandchild you just tried to reduce to a 'reasonable visitation' clause on a yellow sticky note," Charles stated lethally.
