Chapter227 Payback
Miranda left the Lancaster estate the next morning in a great mood after breakfast.
Her son Christian was in equally high spirits.
But back in the dining room, Dominic and Evelyn were a different story. Dominic's face was dark as a storm cloud, and Evelyn's eyes burned with barely concealed hatred.
All of it traced back to the slap Dominic had given Miranda the day before.
Miranda had long since stopped caring about Dominic as a father. So when he hit her out of nowhere, she made sure she got something in return.
With Miranda's "gentle persuasion," Dominic had no choice but to sign the estate over to her name.
Christian had already finished breakfast and gone out to the garden for a walk. That left Dominic and Evelyn alone at the table.
"Dominic, you actually transferred the estate directly to Miranda?" Evelyn finally snapped, unable to hold it in any longer. "You told me that house would go to me after you divorced my sister!"
Dominic's grip tightened around his knife and fork. His knuckles went white, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.
"What was I supposed to do? Miranda made it very clear she'd take me to court for domestic abuse. Someone caught the whole thing on video. I had no leg to stand on."
Miranda's ultimatum that morning had been simple: sign the estate over to her, or she'd walk into a courthouse with that video and the bruise on her face.
Dominic valued his reputation above everything. He couldn't let a scandal like "Lancaster chairman physically assaults own daughter in public" destroy everything he'd built. No matter how furious he was, no matter how hard he ground his teeth, he had to swallow it and hand over the estate.
Evelyn's stomach twisted with rage and panic. She couldn't take it out on Dominic, so she silently added another mark against Miranda and Christian.
--
Out on the road.
While stopped at a red light, Miranda glanced at the manila envelope sitting on the passenger seat. Inside was the property deed to the estate.
The corner of her mouth curved up.
The place that held every memory she and her brother had growing up now belonged entirely to her, at least on paper.
For now, she was just holding onto it for their mother.
She and her brother had already worked out the plan: they were going to get their mother away from Dominic, one way or another. If they transferred the estate directly into their mother's name now, it could be classified as marital property in the divorce and turn into a whole mess.
Keeping it in Miranda's name meant she could transfer it cleanly to her mother when the time came.
As for the divorce itself, she and her brother would bring it up gradually and let their mother make her own decision.
But no matter what happened between their mother and Dominic, the one getting kicked out of that estate would be Dominic. Never their mother.
--
Dozens of miles away, at the harbor.
Salt-thick sea wind rattled the edges of the shipping containers, sending a low, hollow groan through the air.
Clifton stood in full black tactical gear, his tall frame hidden in the shadow of a massive container, eyes sharp and fixed on the busy dock ahead.
"Captain," a heavily armed operative said quietly, "this is the pipeline we traced. Whoever's behind this has been using this port for smuggling."
He paused, his voice dropping lower. "Based on our intel, the volume is massive, and the pattern is completely irregular. Every run uses different timing, different vessels, different cargo types."
Clifton said nothing. He stared out at the water, listening to the steady slap of waves against the seawall.
There was a traitor inside the Prescott family, someone buried deep, using the family's power and resources to line their own pockets. If this kept up, they'd hollow out the Prescott empire from the inside.
The only way to stop it was to drag that person into the light.
"Captain, we've been sitting here for over twenty-four hours," another operative said. "Should we rotate positions?"
Clifton's eyes darkened slightly. He turned his head and spoke into his tactical earpiece, his voice flat and cold. "Status report from the other unit."
Static crackled, then a clear voice came through. "Nothing to report, Captain. No suspicious activity."
Clifton pressed his lips into a hard line.
Whoever was behind this had nerves of steel.
So did he.
Just then, several massive cargo ships appeared on the horizon, horns blaring as they moved toward the dock. Within minutes, the waterfront came alive with workers swarming to unload the freight.
Clifton's gaze sharpened. He cut a glance to the two operatives on his right.
"You two. Blend in. Check those containers for anything that shouldn't be there."
"Yes, sir."
Both men melted into the shadows without a sound.
Two hours passed.
The port stayed quiet. Every crate they checked had proper documentation. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Then his radio crackled with a transmission from another unit.
"Captain, we've got a new lead. The day after tomorrow, the Pullman Estate on the east side of the city is hosting an exclusive members-only trade gathering. On the surface, it has nothing to do with smuggling, but we've traced several suspicious accounts that had prior dealings with the organizers."
Something flickered in Clifton's eyes.
That evening, he returned to the Prescott estate and went straight to his study.
He finally picked up his phone, which had been powered off for two days.
The moment it turned on, a message from his assistant Mia appeared.
He played the voice note.
Mia's calm, professional voice came through clearly. "Sir, something I thought you should know. Yesterday afternoon, Harrison visited your wife at her office. They spoke privately for about ten minutes. After he left, she had an invitation to the Pullman Estate trade gathering."
Clifton's hand stilled almost imperceptibly.
Mia continued. "She appears to be planning to attend. I noticed she placed an order today through her personal studio for a custom gown and matching jewelry."
He hadn't asked anyone to keep tabs on Miranda. But Mia, as his most capable assistant, made a habit of tracking anything that could affect him, and Miranda, as his wife, naturally fell within that scope.
Clifton's brow drew together slowly.
He let out a low hum and ended the call.
He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping an absent rhythm on the armrest. One tap, then another.
A restless, inexplicable irritation stirred in his chest.
It didn't go away. It stayed there, smoldering, right up until the sound of a car engine cutting off drifted in from outside.
Miranda was home.
Clifton wheeled out of the study and stopped at the second-floor corridor, looking down.
He watched the slender figure step through the front door, swap her shoes at the entrance, then look up.
Her eyes met his.
The moment she saw him, her face lit up. Her eyes were bright with undisguised delight.
"You're back?" Her voice carried a warmth she didn't bother hiding.