A few days later, the physical therapy began paying off.
Altagracia-she had to get used to thinking of herself as Altagracia now-refused the wheelchair the nurse offered. She needed to feel the ground under her own feet.
She wore a pair of silk hospital pajamas and a thick cashmere shawl draped over her shoulders. She walked slowly down the corridor of the hospital's exclusive VIP wing, approaching the restricted-access solarium. The air was humid, smelling of damp earth and orchids.
In her hand, she held a sleek tablet. Her thumb swiped rapidly across the screen, reading the latest financial news from Wall Street.
The headline made her stomach churn. Vance Group Assets Liquidated. Travis Tech Acquires Core Patents for Pennies on the Dollar.
Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edges of the tablet. Julian had moved fast. He had swallowed her grandfather's legacy without a single hiccup.
Suddenly, the low murmur of voices drifted from inside the private glass room. Julian had posted guards at the main entrance, but he clearly didn't realize the side door connecting to Altagracia's adjoining suite was unlocked. It was accompanied by the distinct squeak of a wheelchair rolling over the polished marble floor.
Altagracia froze.
She recognized that voice. It was a voice that had whispered in her ear in the dark, a voice that had ordered her destruction.
She quickly tapped the screen of her tablet, turning it black. She stepped sideways, pressing her back against the wall behind a massive Monstera plant just inside the doorway.
Julian walked into view. He was pushing a leather-bound wheelchair. Sitting in it was Howard Travis, the ruthless patriarch of the Travis family.
Altagracia's heart hammered against her ribs. A wave of pure, physiological disgust washed over her. Her hands shook, but she forced herself to breathe quietly.
"The acquisition is complete, Grandfather," Julian said. His tone was smooth, dripping with arrogance. "The patents are being integrated into our new energy division as we speak."
Howard coughed, a dry, rattling sound. "Make sure you cut the roots clean, Julian. I don't want any loose ends from the Gamble girl's side."
Julian let out a short, dismissive laugh. "April Gamble burned to a crisp in her sedan three nights ago. There is no threat left. She was always too stupid to see the bigger picture anyway."
Behind the leaves, Altagracia closed her eyes. The sheer cruelty of his words felt like a knife twisting in her gut.
She took a deep breath. The scent of the orchids filled her lungs. When she opened her eyes, the pain was gone. Only ice remained.
She quickly searched through Altagracia's memories. The original Altagracia had been obsessed with Julian. She had chased him to parties, embarrassed herself publicly, and been the laughingstock of their social circle.
Julian thought she was a pathetic, brainless groupie.
Perfect, she thought.
Altagracia adjusted her cashmere shawl, ensuring it sat perfectly on her shoulders. She stepped out from behind the plant and walked directly into their path.
The sharp click of her slippers on the stone caught Julian's attention. He looked up.
When he saw who it was, his jaw visibly tightened. A flash of intense annoyance crossed his features. He stopped pushing the wheelchair.
He clearly expected her to run up to him, batting her eyelashes and begging for his attention.
"Miss Blanchard," Julian said, his voice laced with cold dismissal. "I heard about your accident. Shouldn't you be resting?"
Altagracia didn't smile. She didn't rush forward.
She stopped exactly two paces away from him. She kept her spine perfectly straight. She tilted her chin up just a fraction, looking down her nose at him with an expression of absolute, crushing boredom.
"Mr. Travis," she said. Her voice was cool, distant, and completely devoid of the desperation he was used to hearing.
Julian blinked. The sudden shift in her demeanor threw him off balance. He stared at her, trying to find the lovesick girl he knew. She wasn't there.
Howard narrowed his eyes from the wheelchair, his sharp gaze assessing the heiress standing before them.
Altagracia didn't even give Julian a second glance. She shifted her attention to the old man.
"Mr. Travis Senior," she said, offering a slight, polite nod. "I trust your health is holding up despite the stress of your recent... acquisitions."
The air in the corridor shifted. The power dynamic flipped in a matter of seconds.
Julian's hands tightened on the handles of the wheelchair. A strange, uncomfortable sensation crawled up his spine. He felt like he was being looked at by a predator.
Altagracia watched the confusion war with anger on his face.
