Chapter 245

Chapter 245
Elsa

I shrugged, carefully extracting my hand from her grip, wiping my palm against my pants leg under the table. "When it's right, it's right."

"Of course." She reached into her purse, pulling out a small gold card embossed with the logo of an exclusive medical facility. "I want you to have this. It will grant your mother access to Stone family medical resources. The best care available."

My spine stiffened. I stared at the card without taking it, heat rising to my cheeks as I remembered what Drake had told me about Miranda's possible involvement in my mother's deteriorating condition before. Fuck that.

"That's very generous," I said carefully, my voice dropping an octave, "but not necessary. I can handle my mother's treatment myself."

Miranda frowned, her hand still extended. "Don't be prideful, Elsa. This could be life-changing for your mother."

I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, fingers gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles turned white. "Listen carefully, Miranda. If my mother's condition shows any unusual changes or complications, I will hold you personally responsible. I know you've been interfering."

The mask slipped momentarily, her eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about?"

"The nurse you hired. You paid her to feed my mother stories about Oliver getting into fights. You knew it would trigger her anxiety." My hands trembled with anger beneath the table, but I kept my voice steady. "That's some fucked-up manipulation, even for you."

Miranda withdrew the card, sliding it back into her purse with deliberate slowness. "You're mistaken, Elsa. I would never do something so cruel. I've always considered you family."

I couldn't hold back my bitter laugh, the sound harsh and grating even to my own ears. "Family?"

"That's unfair," Miranda's voice softened, taking on a wounded quality. "I've always treated you like a daughter. Always pushed for Drake to make things official with you."

She reached for my hand again, her touch gentle but somehow suffocating. I jerked back, almost knocking over my coffee cup.

"It's been difficult for me too, you know. Being the 'stepmother' in the Stone household isn't easy. Marcus never fully accepted me, and Drake..." she sighed dramatically, "Drake has always blamed me for what happened to his mother's mental health."

I said nothing, my teeth grinding together as I watched her performance with new eyes. How had I never seen through this act before? My leg bounced rapidly under the table, a physical outlet for the mounting tension.

"Did you know," Miranda continued, her voice conspiratorial, "that Drake and Vera were in Europe together last month? The business conference?" She sighed. "I shouldn't tell you this, but as family now..."

I stared out the window, a humorless smile curving my lips, my finger tracing the condensation on my water glass. "Is that what you're doing, Miranda? Telling me that even though we're getting married, Drake is still involved with Vera?"

Miranda's eyes widened in feigned innocence. "No, no! I just thought... well, you should know that at the last family gathering, Drake promised his father he would marry Vera. Marcus was quite pleased."

I turned back to her, seeing her clearly for the first time. "You want me to be jealous. You're hoping I'll confront Drake, make a scene, ruin our relationship." I let out a short, harsh laugh. "What kind of shit is that?"

Miranda's smile faltered. "I'm only concerned about you rushing into marriage. Perhaps you should postpone—"

"Miranda," I interrupted, slamming my palm on the table hard enough to make the silverware jump, "your acting skills are wasted here. You should have pursued theater instead of manipulation."

The pretense of warmth vanished from her eyes, replaced by calculating coldness. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you?" I leaned forward, my voice trembling with barely contained rage. "For years, you've been using me as a fucking pawn. Encouraging me to push back against Drake, creating rifts between him and his father. All while pretending to be on my side."

Miranda sat motionless, her face impassive, but I could see her throat working as she swallowed.

"At first, I couldn't understand why. What did you gain by driving wedges in the Stone family?" I tapped my fingers on the table, my leg bouncing faster under the tablecloth. "But now it's clear. You were never trying to help me—you were setting up your own daughter."

Something dangerous flashed in Miranda's eyes. "Watch yourself, Elsa."

"Chloe isn't just some distant relative, is she?" I pressed on, my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. "She's your daughter. Your and Marcus's biological daughter."

Miranda's knuckles whitened around her teacup. I continued relentlessly, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

"Marcus was still married when he met you. The timeline fits. Chloe would be, what, about two years older than Drake?" I sneered, unable to contain my disgust. "You've been playing the long game—turning Drake against his father, making him seem unstable and unworthy of leadership."

I leaned back, watching comprehension dawn on her face as she realized how much I knew. A twisted satisfaction curled in my stomach. "You want Chloe to replace Drake as the next CEO of Stone Enterprises."

Miranda's mask was gone now. Her eyes, cold as winter, assessed me with new calculation. "You've been busy with your little investigation."

"It wasn't hard to connect the dots once Drake mentioned your name." I met her gaze unflinchingly, my breathing shallow and quick. "What I don't understand is why Drake kept protecting you all these years."

A dangerous smile curved her lips. "Perhaps you don't know him as well as you think."

The café door opened again, the bell chiming cheerfully in contrast to the tension at our table. I didn't need to turn around to know who had entered—the atmosphere in the room instantly changed, charged with an unmistakable energy that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Drake's imposing figure appeared beside our table, dressed in a black suit that emphasized his broad shoulders. His eyes, cold and mocking, rested briefly on Miranda before finding mine.

"Let's go," he said simply, extending his hand toward me.

I blinked rapidly, disoriented by the sudden shift. Miranda had mysteriously vanished from the table in the seconds it had taken me to register Drake's presence. Her half-finished tea was the only evidence she'd been there at all. Holy shit, the woman moved like a ghost.

Drake's fingers brushed against my engagement ring as he helped me to my feet, the contact sending an electric current through my body. "I told you not to meet with her alone," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of frustration beneath the calm surface.

"I needed answers," I replied, gathering my purse with shaking hands. "And I'm not some damn porcelain doll who needs protection 24/7."