Chapter 3 - The Ambush
Seventy-two hours later, Mason walked into the glass-walled boardroom of Whitaker Development.
He wasn't alone.
Riley walked beside him, practically unrecognizable. Gone was the soaked delivery jacket. She wore a flawless, tailored emerald pantsuit that cost more than her delivery car, her dark hair swept into a sleek, commanding style. But it wasn't the clothes that made the executives stare—it was the absolute, icy confidence radiating from her.
Sitting at the end of the mahogany table was Mason's uncle, Arthur. And sitting right beside him, completely uninvited but hungry for a piece of the fallout, was Vanessa.
"This is a joke," Arthur snarled, slamming his hands on the table as Mason and Riley took their seats. "You found a peasant off the street and paid her to play dress-up. The board will never recognize this marriage, Mason. You forfeit the company."
Vanessa leaned forward, a vicious, mocking smile on her lips.
"You really are pathetic, Mason," Vanessa purred, looking Riley up and down with sheer disgust. "Did you even teach her how to use a fork before you dragged her in here? You can put a delivery girl in Chanel, but she still smells like cheap takeout. You're losing the empire today."
Mason leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable, and looked at Riley. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to.
May you like
Riley slowly opened the leather folder she had carried in, pulling out a stack of documents.
"It's funny you mention cheap things, Vanessa," Riley said. Her voice was smooth, cultured, and devastatingly calm. She slid the first document down the table. "Because I was reviewing the company ledgers last night. And I noticed some fascinating irregularities in Arthur's offshore accounts."
