When my father died, his illegitimate daughter, Becca, flew back from Europe to stake her claim on the Hamptons seaside manor—my mother’s legacy.
I was the sole legal heir, with the trust documents held firmly in my hands.
But I still couldn't protect what was rightfully mine.
Because my own fiancé, Hobs, one of New York's most powerful men, was determined to help her instead.
He stood protectively before Becca’s wheelchair, his voice tight with impatience. “The money I give you could buy half of Long Island. How can you be so heartless? Why are you trying to take a home from a disabled woman?”
My voice trembled with disbelief. “Take? Hobs, that manor is the last thing my mother designed with her own hands.”
In the end, Hobs’s legal team found a loophole in the trust.
He glanced at my tear-rimmed eyes, a flicker of guilt in his own. “Blair,” he promised, “I’ll make it up to you.”
But I knew then, looking at him, that our future was over.
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1
"I'll write you another blank check. Just give Becca the manor."
"She had a skiing accident in Europe and she'll be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. Do the right thing, Blair. Show some compassion."
Every casual word from Hobs’s mouth sent a fresh wave of fury through me.
"Absolutely not! My mother designed that house!"
"Her mother was a maid in our house. She seduced my father while my mother was pregnant with me. Then, she had the gall to flaunt her pregnant belly in front of my mother, who was so distraught she went into premature labor. A massive hemorrhage… she died right after I was born."
"You want me to pity her? Who’s going to pity my mother? Who’s going to pity me?"
I screamed at him, tears of rage blurring my vision. Hobs simply took off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shot me an irritated glare.
"Blair, stop making a scene. I'll get you a penthouse in Manhattan, one worth several houses like that. You should be satisfied."
"Now, sign the transfer deed."
I stared at the man before me, tears streaming down my face.
"Hobs, I'm your fiancée! Not helping me is one thing, but siding with a stranger against me?"
"What about 'til death do us part'? Did you forget the vow you made at Tiffany's?"
Hobs knew he was in the wrong.
He was silent for a long moment before his tone softened.
"I just feel she needs someone to look after her."
"Blair, sign it. I swear, from now on, I'll only ever protect you."
He pushed the deed toward me again.
I didn’t hesitate.
I ripped the document to shreds and threw the pieces in his face.
"Forget it. I'm not signing."
"The trust transfer is official tomorrow. If you still insist on helping Becca, then I'll see you in court."
I grabbed my bag and stood to leave.
His warning followed me out the door.
"Blair, don't make me do something we'll both regret."
My steps faltered for a half-second before my resolve hardened and I kept walking.
Suddenly, a loud dragging sound and the clang of metal erupted behind me.
"Woof!" A familiar, terrified bark ripped through the air.
My heart plummeted. I spun around, and what I saw made me shriek in horror. "Hobs, are you insane?!"
"You're using Cody to threaten me?!"
Cody was our Golden Retriever. We had raised him together for five years. He was our baby.
Now, two bodyguards were forcing him into a cramped, cold iron cage. Hobs held up his phone, the screen showing a live feed from a city shelter.
One call was all it would take. Cody would be sent to a shelter where any animal unclaimed after twenty-four hours is put down.
Hobs sighed, a look of feigned helplessness on his face.
"Blair, you're forcing my hand."
"I have another deed right here. Sign it."
"You have one day. Whether Cody lives or dies is up to you."
Seeing Cody trapped, I felt my world start to crumble.
I lunged forward, grabbing Hobs’s sleeve and sobbing, "Hobs, that's Cody! Our Cody! How could you do this to him? He's old, the stress alone could kill him!"
My tears meant nothing to him.
He glanced at his watch. "You have twenty-three hours left," he said calmly. "The manor, or the dog?"
Cody thrashed in the cage, whimpering in terror. The bodyguards slammed the door shut, locking him in a space so tight he couldn't even turn around.
He couldn't speak, but his watery eyes pleaded with me to save him. The tail that always thumped with joy now drooped between his legs. His gaze, full of terror and agony, was locked on mine.
Every second I looked at him felt like a knife twisting in my heart.
But that manor was the only thing my mother had ever left me.
How could I hand it over to the daughter of the woman who destroyed my family? How could my mother rest in peace if I did that?
"Blair, twelve hours left." Hobs's text arrived, cold and clinical.
