LOGINMorana’s POV
Xavier mentioned the gala the same way he mentioned everything he didn’t want me involved in which was right before leaving the room. It seems like he wanted to take his LEGAL wife to go there. “It’s a pharmaceutical fundraiser and too formal. You’d be bored.” He adjusted his cufflinks without looking up. “Stay in and rest this morning if you want.” Across the table Iris was already dressed in deep green silk with her hair pinned perfectly. She didn’t look at me and it seems like these days she’s got something up her belt. “Of course. You’re probably right.” I muttered my eyes back on him. Xavier’s shoulders relaxed slightly but enough for me to actually see it. I need to know what is going on. He kissed my forehead and they left together. Aiden stayed with his nanny upstairs and the house went quiet. I sat there for exactly three minutes before my plans got the best in me. I went upstairs to learn more about this gala. I didn’t touch the Greene side of my wardrobe. I went back to the past, the careful ordinary life I’d constructed and maintained for five years. My fingers found the garment bag I hadn’t opened since the night I became Morana Greene. The dress still fits perfectly. I’d bought it for a Mortaine board dinner five years ago and never wore it because I met with the accident that led me to Xavier. It is rhe kind of dress that didn’t ask for a room’s attention but took it. I stood in front of the mirror for a moment and smiled at myself. There she was! Morana Mortaine that has stacked her degrees and awards in a drawer and lock it five years ago. I picked up my clutch and left. The hotel was exactly what I expected, which was that particular kind of quiet that money buys. Two security personnel stood at the entrance with tablets and practiced smiles that didn’t reach their eyes. “Name please.” “Morana Mortaine.” It sounded so strange coming out of my mouth and I almost feared Xavier or Iris would show up behind me and hear me say that. I haven’t used that name for five years that it starts not to feel like mine. The smile on the security guard stayed but something shifted behind it as he scrolled. He doesn’t believe I am Morana Mortaine. It’s clear as day on his face. “I’m sorry ma’am. I don’t see that name on the list.” “Check again.” “I have.” He said it gently like he’d done this before. “I’m afraid if you’re not registered—” “I’m aware of how lists work. Check again.” I kept my voice even. Felix said he was going to add my name to the list and would be here too. Except if for the first time he’s failed at his job, this shouldn’t be the issue. Mortaine is a name that makes people shake in their boots in America. He exchanged a brief glance with his colleague then looked back at his tablet with the expression of someone who had made a decision. “Ma’am I’m going to have to ask you to step aside.” Step aside? I didn’t move immediately and behind me I heard the soft click of heels as two women approached the entrance, laughing at something. They stopped when they saw the situation. I felt their gaze sweep over me the way people assess a problem that doesn’t concern them. One of them murmured something to the other. I caught the word embarrassing before their names were found immediately on the list and they walked inside without looking back. I stood there thinking how five years ago this would have destroyed my image. But five years ago, this would never have happened because everybody knows me. “That’s alright Jacob.” The voice came from somewhere behind the security and it was gruff and completely unbothered. The kind of voice that didn’t need volume because every room it entered already belonged to it. Both security personnel straightened immediately and I looked up. My eyes trailed from his limited edition wrist watch to his tall muscled physique and knew who it was. There was this air around him that screams it. He was taller than I expected in a dark suit without tie. The kind of man who got dressed in thirty seconds and still made everyone else feel underdressed. His eyes found mine across the entrance and something in his expression shifted. He doesn’t look surprised, he recognized me. “Sir she’s not on the—” Jacob started. “I know who she is.” He said it without looking away from me. “Let her in.” Marcus stepped aside immediately. Tristan Rothschild walked toward me and stopped at a distance that was close enough to be a mistake. His eyes moved once across my face then back up. “You came alone.” It wasn’t a question. “I usually do.” I said. Something crossed his expression like amusement but not a smile. “Morana Mortaine.” He said my name like he’d said it before in private setting. “You already knew.” I said. “I’ve known for years.” His voice was even. “I was wondering how long it would take you to find me.” The noise of the gala continued around us like we weren’t standing in the middle of it having a conversation that was rewriting everything. I held his gaze and didn’t blink. “Then you know why I’m here.” “Five years off the grid and you walk into a pharmaceutical gala in a dress that costs more than most people’s quarterly salary.” “I wasn’t off the grid. I was busy.” I answered looking him dead in the eyes. “Married.” His eyes dropped briefly to my hand on the hideous ring Xavier put there. “To Xavier Lancaster.” The way he said Xavier’s name was flat with something underneath that intrigued me fast. “You’ve done your research.” I said. “It’s what I do.” He tilted his head slightly. “The question is what you’re doing here tonight alone. Without him knowing.” I held his gaze and didn’t answer immediately. Let him sit in the silence for a beat because men like Tristan Rothschild were used to rooms that rushed to fill the quiet for them. I didn’t rush to do his bidding. “You’ve been watching Mortaine.” I finally said. “Mortaine has been worth watching.” “And Vance?” “Your brother is ambitious.” He said carefully. “He’s not my brother.” The words came out quieter than I intended. “And you know exactly what he’s been doing to my company.” “We should talk somewhere private.” He gave a sharp nod that made me almost move but stopped. “I don’t follow men into private rooms based on three minutes of conversation. You want to talk you can start here. Convince me you’re worth my time.” I tilted my head. He stared at me for a long moment then something in his expression changed. “Xavier Lancaster has been running illegal pharmaceutical trials using a blood compound that doesn’t belong to him. I’ve been building a case against him for eight months. I’m three weeks from having enough to take it to the board of health authority.” He paused his eyes sweeping over me. “And I’m missing one thing.” “What?” “The source.” His eyes stayed on mine. “The person whose blood he’s been using. Their testimony.” “Come.” He said again but with less command and more something else entirely. I looked at him for another moment then followed.Morana’s POVThe courtroom was fuller than the arraignment had been, every seat in the gallery occupied and a line of press credentials stretched down the hallway outside. Sentencing day had a different weight than everything that came before it. Arraignments were procedural. Sentencing was an ending.I wore navy this time instead of black, something Catherine had chosen for me specifically because she said black read as performance and navy read as certainty and certainty was what I needed the room to feel when I stood to speak.Tristan sat directly behind me in the gallery, close enough that I could feel his presence without needing to turn around and confirm it. Theodore was beside him. Felix on the other side, uncharacteristically quiet, his usual commentary absent in a way that told me even he understood the weight of what this particular morning required.Iris was three rows back. I hadn’t expected her. She’d flown back voluntarily to face her own charges and I understood from m
Morana’s POVThe Mortaine offices were empty by nine, the cleaning crew long gone, just the hum of the building settling into itself and the city glittering through the windows of my father’s office like it had somewhere better to be.I’d been sitting at his desk for two hours with a legal pad and eleven crossed-out attempts and I still didn’t have anything I was willing to say in front of a courtroom.The first version had been too clinical. Facts and timelines, the extraction protocols, the medical consequences, everything documented and precise and completely bloodless like I was presenting a board report instead of describing what it felt like to watch my own blood move through a tube while the man I loved told a doctor to continue.The second version had gone the opposite direction entirely, raw enough that I’d read it back and felt embarrassed by my own vulnerability sitting exposed on a page that other people would eventually read. I’d crossed that one out fastest.Tristan came
MoranaWe went through the drive together at the kitchen island, the laptop between us and the city dark outside the windows and by the third file I understood that whatever I’d braced myself for wasn’t close to enough.The consent forms were the worst part. Not because they were absent, but because they existed, carefully worded documents that used phrases like experimental compassionate protocol and terminal patient participation program while burying the actual substance of what patients were agreeing to somewhere in paragraph nine of a document most of them were too sick to read carefully.Eleven patients. All terminal. All told they were receiving an experimental treatment that might extend their lives. None of them told the treatment was derived from research into my mother’s biology, continued years after my father had supposedly ordered it destroyed.Four of them died within weeks of treatment. The files didn’t specify whether the treatment killed them faster or simply failed
Morana’s POVIris was already at the corner booth when I arrived and it took me a full three seconds to be certain it was actually her.She’d lost weight in a way that wasn’t flattering, the kind of thinness that came from a body running out of something it needed rather than discipline or vanity. Her cheekbones stood out sharper than I remembered and there were shadows under her eyes that no concealer was hiding properly. Her hair was pulled back without effort. No emerald silk. No diamonds. Just a plain grey coat and hands wrapped around a mug she wasn’t drinking from.She didn’t perform anything when she saw me. No warm smile, no rehearsed warmth, none of the careful softness she’d deployed at every dinner and every kitchen conversation for years. She just watched me approach with an exhausted kind of directness that felt more honest than anything she’d ever said to me before.I sat down across from her. “You look terrible.”“I know.” Her voice was flat not defensive. Just tired.
Morana’s POVThe text came through at 11pm from a number I didn’t recognize.“I need to see you. Alone. It’s about your mother.”I stared at it for a long moment sitting on the couch with my laptop still open to a board report I’d stopped reading twenty minutes ago. My thumb hovered over the delete option. This was exactly the kind of message that could be a trap, could be Iris fishing for something, could be nothing at all.I almost deleted it. Then I read it again. About your mother. Nobody outside my immediate circle knew Mira existed. We’d kept it contained deliberately, Felix and Theodore and the small legal team handling the facility paperwork. If Iris knew, it meant either she’d had access to something we didn’t know about or Xavier had told her before everything collapsed. Either way I needed to know which.I showed Tristan the phone. He read it once, jaw setting in that particular way and reached for his own phone before he’d even set mine back down.“I’ll have Reid pull a t
Morana’s POVTristan looked at Gerald. Gerald looked at Tristan with the unbothered energy of an animal that had no concept of reputation management.“Put him down”“He seems comfortable.”“You’re comfortable” I said. “You’re standing in a chicken pen holding Gerald because you don’t want to admit you looked up how to do it and now you’re committed.”He set Gerald down with the same carefully. Gerald wandered away immediately with absolutely no acknowledgment of what had just happened.We spent the next hour and a half doing things I had never done in my life and would not have predicted doing at any point in the last decade. Tristan had apparently watched three videos about property maintenance before we arrived because he knew things about the barn that he definitely hadn’t known before this week and was presenting them as general knowledge.I found actual eggs in the nesting boxes which was somehow both obvious and completely shocking. I stood holding two eggs and stared at them li
Morana’s POV“This is my husband, Tristan Rothschild” I said and watched the color literally drain from their faces.Tristan didn’t stand up. He just turned his head slightly and looked at each of them in turn with the kind of expression that suggested he was calculating exactly how much they were
Tristan’s POVI was waiting outside City Hall when the Rolls-Royce pulled up. I didn’t recognize the car at first. I just knew it was the kind of vehicle that made people stop and stare because it screamed money in a way that was impossible to ignore. The engine shut off and I watched the door ope
Tristan’s POVReid was waiting when I got to the office. He didn’t have the usual morning briefing energy. He had the energy of someone who’d been awake for thirty-six hours straight staring at data that didn’t add up in a way anyone wanted it to.“Xavier met with Vance Mortaine yesterday,” he said
Tristan’s POV The deal closed at 6:47 on a Saturday morning. I know the exact time because my assistant sent the confirmation while I was still in the car heading to the office and I read it once then put my phone face down on the seat. Four billion dollars for Veltane Pharmaceuticals. We have h







