Chapter 80
Margaret's POV
"I want what's mine. I want to live at home as your wife. I want Emma to be acknowledged. I want this family to give me the respect I deserve. This is what you promised me."
"Absolutely not," I snapped, finding my voice again. "I won't have that child—"
"That child is your granddaughter, whether you acknowledge it or not. If you keep fighting me on this, I'll make sure the whole world knows exactly what kind of people the Harrisons really are."
The line went quiet, complete silence.
"I'm coming over now," Laura said.
"What? Didn't you already board the plane to Valhalla? I personally drove you there," Richard said, clearly unaware that Laura was still in Starport.
"Richard, your promises have never been kept. I have to think for myself and Emma." Laura hung up after saying this.
---
Thirty minutes later, I watched from the front window as a black sedan pulled up our circular drive. My stomach churned as Laura stepped out, no longer cowering. She radiated a different aura than before.
Aria hobbled past me with her cane, heading upstairs, the cane angrily tapping against the marble floor. "I won't be here for this circus," she muttered. "Call me when that woman is gone."
The front door opened, and Laura walked into our home like she owned it.
"Hello, Margaret," Laura said pleasantly, removing her coat. "Thank you for the reception."
I wanted to scream. Instead, I turned on my heel and stalked toward the kitchen, muttering under my breath, "Shameless bitch."
---
Holden's POV
The contract sat on my desk like a loaded gun. Laura had come prepared—too prepared. This wasn't the desperate move of a scorned woman. This was a calculated business negotiation.
"During the IPO period, you will not make any public appearances," I read from the terms. "You will not disclose your relationship with Richard to any media outlets or business partners."
"Agreed," Laura said smoothly, sitting across from me with perfect posture. "But I'm adding a clause. Once the company goes public successfully, you will formally acknowledge our marriage."
I looked up sharply. "That wasn't part of our discussion."
"It is now." Her green eyes were steady, unblinking. "I've been patient long enough, Holden. I've played by your rules for six years. Now we play by mine."
I stared at the woman who'd just cornered my entire family with surgical precision. "And if we refuse?"
"Then I hold a press conference tomorrow morning. Your choice."
---
My pen hovered over the signature line. Everything we'd built, everything we'd worked for, hung in the balance. The IPO, Richard's future, the family's reputation—all of it could be damaged by this woman's outburst.
"There's one more condition," I said finally. "You'll live here, in the estate. Not in his villa."
Laura's eyebrows rose slightly. "Why?"
"Because as far as the public knows, Richard and Grace Wilson are still married. If you're seen living with him openly, it raises questions we can't afford to answer right now."
She considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. But I want the master suite across from Margaret's room. And Emma stays with me."
Of course she did. The power play was obvious—claiming territory in the heart of our family's domain.
"Agreed," I said heavily, signing the contract. "I'll have someone collect Emma."
As she signed her name with a flourish, I couldn't help but wonder what other surprises she had in store for us.
---
Elizabeth's POV
Wilson Estate gardens, weekend evening
The evening air carried the scent of late-blooming roses as I supervised the staff setting up our outdoor dining area. Crystal glasses caught the last rays of sunlight, and the champagne tower gleamed like a beacon of sophistication.
For this banquet, I invited the Morgan family and the Davidson family, along with some of our family's business partners. But the most important protagonist is still Grace. I've already meticulously designed the stage for her, just waiting for her to step onto it.
"Mrs. Wilson?" One of the servers approached hesitantly. "The Morgan family representatives have arrived."
Perfect. They were today's main characters.
Charles appeared on the terrace with Sophia, both looking annoyingly relaxed. Andrew emerged from the house behind me, adjusting his cufflinks with the practiced ease of someone born to this life.
I smoothed my wrap and caught Andrew's eye. He nodded almost imperceptibly, understanding the signal. Time to execute our plan.
"Sophia, darling," I called out sweetly. "Would you mind checking on the hors d'oeuvres in the kitchen? I want everything perfect for our guests."
She hesitated, clearly sensing the undercurrent, but good breeding won out. "Of course, Aunt Elizabeth."
Andrew found his own excuse to disappear, leaving Charles and me alone on the terrace. The champagne bubbled softly in my glass as I prepared for the conversation that would reshape our family's future.
---
"You've been a stranger lately, Charles," I said, offering him a flute of champagne. "I hardly see you at the estate anymore."
He accepted the glass with a wry smile. "Work keeps me busy. You know how it is."
"Though I notice you haven't been to Wilson Holdings much either. Are you comfortable leaving the company to Andrew and Grace?" he continued.
"I wouldn't mind, as long as she doesn't kick me out of this house," I sighed.
"Grace isn't vindictive, Elizabeth. She's still learning, still finding her footing. The company still needs you."
I sipped my champagne, letting the bubbles dance on my tongue before responding. "You always see the best in people, Charles. It's one of your most endearing qualities."
But inside, I was calculating. Before Robert's death, I'd thought Charles's lack of ambition was a sign of loyalty, of family devotion. Now I wondered if his gentle words and supportive smiles masked something far more dangerous than any of us realized.
The more reasonable he sounded, the more convinced I became that he was playing a deeper game than any of us realized.