Chapter 3

Mara’s POV

The cameras zoomed in.

The room erupted.

Celeste lunged toward me, trying to snatch the medical report from my hand.

“You forged that!”

“The report carries the hospital’s official seal.” I held it higher. “If you think it’s fake, we can pull the records right now.”

“Cut the livestream.”

Soren’s voice came from below the stage.

He looked at me coldly.

“Mara, you promised me you wouldn’t cause another scene.”

“She lied.”

I waited for him to react.

For once, I wanted to see doubt cross his face. Instead, his expression remained unreadable.

“So what?”

My chest tightened.

“She was afraid of losing me. You humiliated her in front of everyone. What did you expect?”

I stared at him.

“So the truth doesn’t matter?”

He said nothing.

I took a step back.

“What matters is that she’s Celeste?”

His jaw tightened.

“The truth doesn’t excuse what you’ve done to her.”

Celeste immediately slipped her arm through his.

“Soren, I don’t think Mara is actually sorry.”

He took the documents from his assistant and held them out to me.

“Sign them.”

I didn’t move.

“Apologize.”

“You promised me everything in the Calloway vault would be returned.”

“Then have your father come and collect it himself.”

My fingers curled.

Soren paused for barely a second.

“On the condition that he publicly apologizes to Celeste.”

“And if I refuse?”

He glanced at his watch.

“You have until nine tomorrow morning.”

His voice was calm, almost indifferent.

“If you haven’t apologized by then, the Voss property goes to Celeste.”

He leaned back.

“And once that transfer is complete, you won’t have the right to keep a single room.”

I looked at him for a long moment then I walked away.

—

By the time I reached the Voss property, the locks had already been changed.

Workers were carrying my father’s furniture out through the gates.

The old wooden table he’d used for twenty years was being loaded onto a truck. One corner had been scraped badly, exposing the pale wood underneath.

“Who authorized this?”

The project manager showed me the work order. “Mr. Calloway. We’re clearing the property today.”

“This house doesn’t belong to him.”

I pushed through the gate.

Celeste stood in the courtyard surrounded by broken bricks and construction equipment.

She was wearing my father’s old gray cardigan. The one he’d worn around the house every winter.

She smiled when she saw me.

“Mara, it’s dusty here. I found this upstairs and thought it would be useful.”

I held out my hand.

“Take it off.”

She immediately stepped behind one of Soren’s men.

“You just apologized to me in front of the whole city, and now you’re threatening me again?”

I ignored her.

I turned to the project manager.

“This property belonged to Gideon Voss. You don’t have permission to renovate or remove anything.”

“But Ms. Arden showed us authorization from your father.”

Celeste smiled.

She pulled a document from her handbag.

A faint smile played across her lips.

“He signed it before he passed.”

I took the paper.

My eyes landed on the date. It was signed yesterday when my father had been lying in the morgue.

I looked up.

“Where did you get his seal?”

“From the Calloway vault.” Her smile widened. “Soren gave me access.”

I reached for my phone to call the police but Celeste’s expression changed.

She immediately called Soren and put him on speaker.

His voice came through. “Mara. Put the phone down.”

“She forged this authorization.”

“I gave her access to the seal.”

“You knew about this?”

“The renovation can’t wait for your father’s condition to improve. Celeste was told he wasn’t able to handle the paperwork himself. She used his seal. The authorization is valid.”

I stared at Celeste. “Who told you my father couldn’t handle paperwork?”

“The staff at the hospital.” Her answer came too quickly.

“So you knew exactly how serious his condition was.”

Her eyes immediately filled with tears.

“Soren, she’s doing it again.”

His voice hardened.

“Enough.” He sounded irritated now. “Celeste’s gallery opens in three days. I won’t let you derail everything because you’re angry.”

“That is my father’s house.”

“And you’re my wife. I have the authority to make decisions regarding our marital assets.”

“My father isn’t a marital asset.”

“I’ll deal with this when I’m finished.”

“When?”

Celeste answered before he could.

“The day after tomorrow.” She smiled. “Soren promised to take me out of the city.”

In the past, I would have demanded to know why she always came first.

I would have screamed, broken something. Made sure everyone knew how much it hurt.

This time, I simply put my phone away.

“Fine.”

There was a brief silence.

“See you the day after tomorrow.”

Soren’s tone softened slightly. “Alright. When I get back, I’ll take you to see your father.”

The call ended.

Celeste slowly removed my father’s cardigan.

She tossed it onto the wooden table then she stepped closer and brushed a speck of dust from my shoulder.

“You know, things would have been much easier if you’d acted like this from the beginning.”

I said nothing.

She smiled.

“That night, Soren didn’t ignore your calls because he was busy.”

My fingers tightened.

“He heard I was upset.”

She lowered her voice. “And he hung up immediately. He said you were always using your father’s illness to make him feel guilty and stir up trouble between us.”

I looked at her.

She took a step back.

“Want to hit me?”

She glanced toward the bodyguard.

“Go ahead. Just touch me, and Soren will sign this entire property over to me.”

I didn’t move.

I bent down and picked up my father’s cardigan.

I brushed the dust from it carefully.

Celeste frowned.

“Why aren’t you angry?”

“There’s no point.”

“What?”

“There’s no point wasting energy on people who don’t matter.”

I walked toward the gate.

Behind me came a sudden crash.

The wooden table my father has used for twenty years suddenly fell from the truck and slammed onto the pavement.

The legs snapped.

The project manager hurried over.

“Mrs. Calloway, I’m sorry. We can—”

Celeste interrupted him. “If it’s broken, throw it away.”

I stopped for half a second.

The wind moved through the narrow street. The cardigan in my arms still smelled faintly of my father’s soap.

This time, I didn’t smash a car. I didn’t fight the guards. I didn’t beg Soren to save something that belonged to my family.

I took photographs of the broken table and the forged authorization.

I sent both to my lawyer.