CHAPTER FOUR

Catherine poured herself a glass of brandy, her hands steady. Elegant. Like she hadn’t just destroyed a girl upstairs.

Tony loosened his tie and dropped into the leather chair across from her. “She made it easy.”

“She always does.” Catherine took a sip, savoring it. “Did you see her face when you called her an embarrassment? I thought she might actually faint.”

Tony laughed. It was cold. Empty. “She’s pathetic.”

“Useful, though.” Catherine swirled the brandy in her glass. “For now.”

“For now,” Tony agreed.

Silence settled between them. Comfortable. Conspiratorial.

Catherine walked to the window, looking out at the manicured gardens. The estate that now belonged to them. Every inch of it paid for with blood and lies.

“I spoke with the warden today,” she said casually.

Tony looked up. “And?”

“Your dear step-brother is doing poorly.” Catherine’s lips curved into a smile. “Apparently prison doesn’t agree with him. No family visits. No phone calls. No hope. It’s all very depressing.”

“Good.”

“Better than good.” Catherine turned to face him. “The warden says he’s stopped eating properly. Lost significant weight. Spends most of his time alone in his cell, staring at walls. The man’s breaking, Tony. Slowly. Beautifully. Completely.”

Tony stood and walked to the bar, pouring his own drink. “How long until he cracks completely?”

“Hard to say.” Catherine shrugged. “Could be months. Could be years. But either way, he’s not coming out of there. Not alive.”

“You’re sure?”

“Darling, I made sure of it.” Catherine’s voice was silk wrapped around steel. “The charges are airtight. The evidence is damning. The witnesses, well, they were very convincing when properly motivated. Your step-brother will rot in that cell until his bones turn to dust.”

Tony raised his glass. “To justice.”

Catherine clinked hers against his. “To what we deserve.”

They drank.

Catherine returned to her chair and sat down, crossing her legs elegantly. She looked like a queen surveying her kingdom. In a way, she was.

“Do you ever think about them?” Tony asked suddenly. “Father? His first wife?”

“Think about them?” Catherine’s eyebrow arched. “What’s there to think about? They’re dead.”

“I know. I just.” Tony paused. “Sometimes I wonder if we could have done it differently.”

“Differently?” Catherine’s voice turned sharp. “You mean less effectively? Less permanently? No, Tony. We did exactly what needed to be done.”

She took another sip of brandy, letting the silence stretch.

“Your father,” she said finally, her voice quiet but cutting, “was a sentimental fool. He loved his first wife. Worshipped her. Put her son on a pedestal as the rightful heir while treating you like an afterthought. A spare. Something to be tolerated but never celebrated.”

Tony’s jaw clenched.

“So yes,” Catherine continued, “I poisoned him. Slowly. Carefully. Every night in his tea for three years. Just enough to weaken his heart. Just enough that when he finally died, the doctors called it natural causes. Stress. Age. Heart disease.”

She smiled at the memory. “No one suspected a thing.”

Tony was quiet for a moment. “And his wife?”

“That dried-up b**tch?” Catherine’s voice dripped with venom. “She lasted exactly two days after his funeral. Heard the news of her beloved husband’s death and dropped dead from a heart attack. Right there in that pathetic little house we’d moved her to.”

“Grief killed her.”

“Weakness killed her,” Catherine corrected. “She couldn’t survive without him. Couldn’t imagine a world where her perfect husband was gone and her precious son was rotting in prison for crimes he didn’t commit. So her pathetic heart just gave up.”

She set down her glass with a sharp clink.

“And that,” she said softly, “was the best thing that could have happened to us. Because now there’s no one left to fight for him. No one to hire lawyers or ask uncomfortable questions or dig into the evidence. Just a lonely, desperate man sitting in a cell with no family, no hope, and no future.”

Tony exhaled slowly. “Sometimes I still can’t believe we pulled it off.”

“We pulled it off because we were smarter than them.” Catherine’s eyes glinted in the dim light. “Because we were patient. Because we planned every detail while they assumed family meant loyalty.”

She stood and walked to the mahogany desk in the corner. On it sat a photograph in an expensive frame, Tony’s father with his first wife and their son. The family that should have inherited everything.

Catherine picked it up and studied it with detached amusement.

“They thought they were untouchable,” she said quietly. “The first wife. The golden son. The beloved heir. They never saw us as threats. Just the second family. The less important ones.”

She set the photo down face-first on the desk.

“That was their mistake.”

Tony joined her at the desk. “How long until the company is fully consolidated?”

“It already is.” Catherine turned to face him. “The moment your father died and the death certificate was signed, everything transferred to you. The company. The properties. The accounts. All of it. Because you, the stable, married, responsible son, were the only viable heir.”

“While my step-brother sits convicted of embezzlement and fraud.”

“Crimes he didn’t commit,” Catherine added with mock sympathy. “But crimes that are now part of his permanent record. Even if by some miracle he got out, which he won’t, no one would ever trust him again. His reputation is destroyed. His life is over.”

She walked back to her chair and sat down. “And we made sure of that.”

Tony sat across from her again. “The board?”

“Completely loyal.” Catherine’s eyes gleamed. “Every Alpha and elder on that council sees you as the natural successor. Young, capable, married.” She emphasized the last word. “That’s important, Tony. They needed to see stability. A man ready to lead the pack.”

“Which is why I have to stay married to that girl.”

“For ten more months,” Catherine confirmed. “Then the contract ends. We pay her off. She disappears back to whatever hole she crawled out of. And you’re free to marry someone actually appropriate.”

Tony’s face twisted. “Ten months of pretending to tolerate her.”

“You barely have to interact with her,” Catherine pointed out. “She lives in her room. You live in yours. You show up together at events when necessary. That’s it. Surely you can manage that.”

“I can manage it,” Tony muttered. “I just don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it.” Catherine’s voice was firm. Final. “We’ve come too far to let your discomfort ruin everything. Your step-brother is in prison. His parents are dead. The company is yours. All that’s left is maintaining appearances until we’re completely secure.”

She leaned forward, her eyes hard.

“And that means keeping Leslie in line. Making sure she plays her part. Making sure she doesn’t embarrass us again like she did tonight.”

“It wasn’t her fault.”

“I don’t care whose fault it was.” Catherine cut him off. “What I care about is that our family name was attached to a spectacle. That people were laughing. That photos and videos are circulating on social media of your wife covered in filth.”

Her voice dropped to something dangerous.

“That cannot happen again, Tony. We control the narrative. We control how this family is perceived. And right now, Leslie is a liability.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Make her understand her place.” Catherine’s words were ice. “Make her smaller. More afraid. More desperate to please us. She needs to know that stepping out of line has consequences.”

“I think tonight made that clear.”

“Good.” Catherine picked up her glass again. “Then we’re aligned.”

Tony nodded slowly. “When father’s assets finish transferring.”

“They already have,” Catherine interrupted. “I received confirmation this afternoon. Every account, every property, every share. It’s all legally yours now.”

Tony’s face broke into a genuine smile. “We actually did it.”

“We did.” Catherine raised her glass one more time. “To the second wife who became the only wife. To the spare who became the heir. To the family that everyone underestimated.”

Tony raised his glass to meet hers.

“And to the step-brother rotting in prison while we enjoy everything that should have been his.”

They drank deeply, savoring both the brandy and the victory.

Outside the window, the moon hung cold and distant over the estate. Inside, two monsters celebrated in the dark, believing they had won completely.

Believing no one could touch them now.

Believing Leslie was just a helpless girl who would never be a threat.

They had no idea how wrong they were.