Nathaniel lifted his wineglass and smiled as though he were hosting the perfect family dinner.
“This,” he declared, sweeping his gaze across the table, “is what a real family looks like—choosing forgiveness, staying united, and moving forward.”
Then he turned to me, wearing that polished, devastating smile he used so well in public. It was flawless, charming, and completely empty.
“I’m glad we’ve finally put all that unpleasantness behind us, Audrey,” he said. His attention shifted to my brother. “David, you have to admit, this wine is exceptional.”
“Excellent,” David replied in an even tone before taking a measured sip. Judging by the look in his eyes, he probably wished it were poison.
Nathaniel either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He turned toward Victoria, and his expression softened in a way I hadn’t seen directed at me in years.
“And Victoria,” he said warmly, “it’s nice to see you smiling again.”
Victoria let out a cheerful laugh that made my skin crawl.
“I’m just so happy we’re all getting along,” she said brightly. She reached across the table and placed her hand over mine. Her touch was warm and familiar, and somehow that made it worse. “Thank you for forgiving me, Audrey. I know this whole situation has been difficult, but I really hope we can become closer after this.”
She squeezed my hand.
“Like sisters.”
Every instinct in my body screamed at me to pull away.
I didn’t.
Instead, I forced a smile so tight it felt painful.
“Of course, Victoria,” I said in a syrupy voice. “Like sisters.”
Nathaniel looked pleased with himself as he cut into his duck.
“I told you she’d come around,” he said, sounding smug. “Audrey has always been practical. She knows how to see the bigger picture.”
I picked up my fork and took a small bite before speaking.
“Since you mentioned the bigger picture,” I said lightly, “I’ve been thinking about something your grandfather said.”
Nathaniel paused, knife suspended over his plate.
“What part?”
“The part about an heir.”
I said it casually, as if discussing weather.
“He seemed deeply disappointed about the… accident. He’s been calling almost every day, asking when we plan to try again. He keeps saying the Jones family needs someone to carry the legacy.”
Victoria went rigid.
The subtle shift in her posture didn’t escape me. Her eyes flicked toward Nathaniel, alarm flashing across her face.
Nathaniel cleared his throat.
“Well, Grandfather can be impatient,” he said carefully. “But you’re still recovering, sweetheart. The doctor said—”
“The doctor said I’m physically fine.”
The lie came easily.
I tilted my head and smiled.
“And it made me think about something else. Our fifth wedding anniversary is in five days, isn’t it?”
I leaned forward and rested my chin on my hand, staring at him with deliberate softness.
“What if we celebrate properly? Maybe a honeymoon. Somewhere beautiful. The Maldives, perhaps.”
I let the suggestion hang for a beat.
“We could try again,” I said gently. “For the baby.”
Nathaniel blinked.
His gaze flicked to Victoria, then back to me.
I could practically hear the calculations in his head.
He didn’t want me.
He wanted her.
But he still needed his grandfather’s approval, and more importantly, he needed me cooperative until the merger was finalized.
“That sounds…” He forced a smile. “Wonderful.”
He reached for his wineglass.
“A honeymoon. Just the two of us?”
“Just us,” I said.
“A fresh start.”
Victoria’s fingers tightened around her glass.
“But,” Nathaniel added quickly, dabbing his mouth with a napkin, “before we disappear on some romantic getaway, we still need to finalize the merger.”
There it was.
Business.
Always business.
“The transfer papers for your father’s logistics company still need to be completed,” he continued. “The board has been anxious. You know how these things are.”
I waved my hand as if dismissing something trivial.
“Oh, the merger.”
I bent slightly and reached beneath the table.
“I actually brought the papers.”
From under the table, I pulled out a thick manila envelope and placed it beside the roast duck.
Nathaniel’s eyes sharpened instantly.
There it was.
That hungry look.
The expression of a predator spotting easy prey.
He reached for the envelope, but I placed my hand over it first.
“Not so fast,” I said with playful disapproval. “Opening paperwork during dinner is terribly rude.”
Nathaniel laughed, though the sound came out strained with anticipation.
“Right. Of course.”
He tried to sound casual.
“We can review it afterward.”
“Actually,” I said, lifting my hand from the envelope, “there’s nothing to review.”
I slid it toward him.
“I already signed everything.”
Nathaniel froze.
“You did?”
I nodded.
“This afternoon. I already sent digital copies to legal. Those are just the original signed documents for your files.”
He snatched the envelope and opened it immediately.
His fingers moved quickly as he flipped through the pages until he found the signature page.
The moment he saw my name, I watched tension leave his body.
He exhaled like a man who had been holding his breath for weeks.
Then he looked at me.
For the first time in a very long while, his happiness seemed genuine.
Not because he loved me.
Because he believed he had won.
He thought he had taken everything.
My child.
My dignity.
My inheritance.
“You’re incredible, Audrey,” he said, closing the folder. “Truly. This changes everything.”
“It certainly does,” David murmured into his wineglass.
Nathaniel didn’t catch the meaning.
I lifted my own glass.
“Well then,” I said smoothly, “shall we toast? To the merger… and to our anniversary?”
Nathaniel raised his glass without hesitation.
“To us.”
Our glasses touched.
Victoria joined in, her smile bright and triumphant.
She looked almost radiant.
She thought she had won too.
She probably imagined herself replacing me soon enough, boarding that honeymoon flight in my place.
Later that night, silence settled over the house.
Nathaniel was in the shower, humming under the running water.
He was in excellent spirits.
I sat at my vanity, removing my earrings one by one and placing them carefully on the marble surface.
He had no idea.
He didn’t know the signature on those documents meant nothing.
He didn’t know that three hours before dinner, David and I had completed an entirely different transfer.
My father’s company had never been a single operating entity.
It was a holding company.
And as majority shareholder, I had the legal authority to restructure every asset under it.
I hadn’t handed Nathaniel the company.
I had handed him the shell.
The brand.
The logo.
The office leases.
That was all.
The real assets—the trucks, warehouses, shipping routes, contracts, and operating capital—had already been moved into a separate trust.
A trust controlled solely by David.
A structure Nathaniel had no access to and no authority over.
Tomorrow morning, when his legal team filed those merger papers, they would discover the truth.
They had just acquired a corpse.
A company that looked valuable on paper but carried nothing except debt and liabilities.
By the time they understood what had happened, I would already be gone.
“Honey?”
Nathaniel’s voice drifted from the bathroom.
“Are you coming to bed?”
“In a minute,” I called back smoothly. “I’m just finishing my skincare.”
My phone buzzed against the marble countertop.
One message.
Unknown number.
I picked it up.
Unknown: Hello, my bride.
My pulse skipped.
Another message arrived almost immediately.
Unknown: The jet is fueled. The contract is ready. Are you prepared to marry me and destroy your ex-husband?
A third message appeared.
Unknown: If your answer is yes, I’ll see you soon.
