She got into her Maserati, the engine roaring to life without a moment's hesitation. The glittering lights of the Hudson estate vanished in her rearview mirror.
Her phone buzzed violently. The screen lit up with her father's name: Charles Turner.
She let it ring, her eyes fixed on the dark highway ahead.
The ringing stopped. A text message appeared, harsh and demanding. "Home. Now."
A cold, humorless laugh escaped her lips. She tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.
She didn't drive to the main Turner residence. Instead, she went to her own penthouse, a sterile glass tower overlooking the city.
She walked into the empty apartment, kicked off her heels, and let the cold marble floor shock her bare feet.
Without turning on the lights, she went to the massive floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the sleepless sprawl of New York.
The sound of a key card, followed by the door being shoved open, broke the silence. Her father, Charles, stormed in, his face a mask of fury.
Cristobal followed him, his expression a practiced mask of "concern."
"Are you insane?" Charles's roar echoed in the vast, dark room. "Do you have any idea the damage you've done to the Turner family tonight?"
Chandler turned slowly, her face blank. "Damage? Compared to my dignity, which is more important?"
Charles was momentarily speechless, then his anger surged back. "Dignity doesn't pay the bills! The Hudsons are our most important partners!"
Cristobal stepped forward, adopting his usual look of deep affection. "Chandler, stop this. I know you're angry, but we can talk."
He reached for her hand. She sidestepped him.
"Talk about what?" Chandler's gaze flickered past him to her father. "Talk about how I'm supposed to accept being a wife in name only, to make room for your prized son-in-law and my dear sister?"
Charles's face went rigid. He knew.
Cristobal looked genuinely shocked that she knew the details.
"It's temporary," Charles argued stiffly. "Men make mistakes. You need to be more understanding. For the family."
"For the family," Chandler repeated, the words dripping with sarcasm. "So I should just hand over everything I am?"
Charles's patience snapped. "I am ordering you to go to the Hudsons tomorrow, apologize, and accept Cristobal's terms."
He paused, then delivered the real blow. "And you will sign over management of your mother's trust fund to the family. We can't risk you doing anything else this impulsive."
Chandler finally smiled, a chilling expression that didn't reach her eyes. "So that's it. My money."
"Chandler, we're a family," Cristobal chimed in. "Your assets are the family's assets."
Her gaze swept over them, cold and assessing. She finally saw them for what they were.
She walked to her desk, pulled open a drawer, and took out a document.
Charles's eyes lit up with greed, thinking she was complying.
Chandler slapped the document onto the desk. "This is a legal copy of my mother's will. It states, very clearly, that my trust fund is absolutely independent before I marry. After marriage, the sole beneficiary is my legal spouse."
She looked up, her eyes locking onto theirs. "So, you will not be getting a single cent."
Charles trembled with rage, pointing a finger at her. "You... you ungrateful daughter!"
Chandler picked up her clutch and keys, walking past them toward the door. Her voice was quiet, but unbreakable. "From this day on, I am no longer your pawn."
