Chapter 3 - The Miami Return
Four days later, the sun was shining brilliantly over Boulder.
A black G-Wagon—paid for entirely by my business accounts—pulled up the sweeping driveway of the Redwood Crest estate. Brent stepped out, deeply tanned and wearing designer sunglasses, looking incredibly relaxed. His mother, Diane, and his sister, Karen, climbed out of the passenger doors, laughing loudly as they dragged their Louis Vuitton luggage toward the front steps.
"I still can't believe Tessa was crazy enough to change the locks before we left," Diane scoffed, adjusting her sun hat. "You really need to put your foot down, Brent. This is our family home."
"Don't worry, Mom," Brent smirked arrogantly, walking up to the glowing keypad. "I've let her sweat it out at her sister's house long enough. Once she realizes I'm not playing games, she'll put my name on the deed like she should have on our wedding day."
He typed in his new code.
The keypad buzzed an angry red.
Brent frowned. He typed it again. Red.
"Tessa!" Brent yelled, pounding his fist against the heavy oak. "Open the damn door! I'm not doing this today!"
The locks clicked heavily.
But when the massive door swung open, it wasn't a weeping, defeated wife begging for her husband's forgiveness.
It was a wall of armed tactical security guards.
Brent stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own expensive suitcase. Diane let out a sharp gasp, clutching Karen's arm as the security detail seamlessly parted down the middle.
Vaughn Sterling stepped onto the threshold.
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The sheer gravitational pull of Vaughn’s presence sucked the oxygen straight out of the mountain air. He didn't look like a man; he looked like a natural disaster in a tailored suit.
"Who the hell are you?!" Brent demanded, his voice cracking as he looked from the armed men to the terrifying billionaire standing in the doorway of what he thought was his house.
