The Ultimatum

A sudden call at 2:17 AM jolts me from a restless sleep, where I’m drowning in red ink and balance sheets. My phone vibrates across the nightstand, slicing through the dark.

“You need to come now!” Victoria’s voice is brittle with fury, stripped of its usual fake warmth. “Immediately.”

“What’s happened? Is it Dad?” I’m already fumbling for the light, my heart thudding against my ribs.

“Just get here.” The line goes dead.

Outside, the night feels hostile. Rain lashes my windshield as I drive up the winding road to the mansion, each burst of lightning illuminating the path for a terrifying second before plunging me back into blackness. My wipers fight a losing battle against the downpour. It feels like my struggle to keep Dad’s company afloat—relentless, hopeless.

By the time I reach the house, I’m soaked from the mad dash to the door. No housekeeper greets me; instead, Victoria stands in the marble foyer, still in evening clothes, her perfect makeup streaked with mascara tears—almost theatrical in their precision.

“Where is she?” Her voice echoes off the cold surfaces.

“Who? What’s happened?” I push wet hair from my face. “Is Dad okay?”

“Your precious father is upstairs, sedated.” She spits the words. “After what your sister has done, it’s a miracle he didn’t have another heart attack.”

Another. The word knocks the breath from my lungs. “Another? When did he have a heart attack? Why wasn’t I told?”

She waves the question away, diamond rings flashing. “Six months ago. Minor. We handled it privately. Follow me.”

My mind reels as I trail her up the sweeping staircase. Six months of Dad suffering, hidden from me. Six months of a potentially fatal condition, kept secret while I worked beside him every day.

Victoria throws open the door to Vivian’s suite so hard it slams against the wall. The room is chaos—drawers yanked out, clothes thrown everywhere, jewelry boxes emptied onto the carpet.

“She’s gone.” Victoria trembles with rage. “Eloped. With that… that model.” She spits the word like a curse. “A nobody with a pretty face and not a penny to his name.”

I stand frozen in the doorway, trying to process. “Eloped? But what about Xavier? The contract—”

“The contract that was to be signed tomorrow.” She sinks onto the edge of the bed, voice hollow. “The contract that would have saved your father’s company. The contract that would have secured our position with the Harringtons.” Her eyes snap up, suddenly sharp. “The contract you will now fulfill.”

The words hang between us, impossible.

“What are you talking about?” I barely recognize my own voice.

She crosses to Vivian’s desk and grabs a tablet. “My daughter was kind enough to leave this behind. All her communications with her… lover.” She thrusts the device at me.

On the screen, I see a series of texts between Vivian and someone named Diego:

Vivian: It’s all arranged. Tickets to Santorini. We leave tonight while everyone’s at the Hendersons’ gala.

Diego: What about the contract? Your mother will kill you.

Vivian: Let her try. I’ve transferred enough money to keep us comfortable for years. Xavier Harrington can find another society bride to warm his bed. I choose you.

Diego: Your sister? Could she take your place?

Vivian: Aria? Don’t be ridiculous. Xavier would never accept that fat, boring substitute. Besides, she’s not a Pierce. Mother only tolerates her because of Robert.

My hands shake as I read, every word slicing deeper. When I look up, Victoria is watching me, calculating.

“Your sister has destroyed everything we’ve worked for.” Her voice is eerily calm now. “Unless you take her place.”

“That’s insane.” My whisper trembles. “Xavier Harrington doesn’t even know me. He’d never agree—”

“He doesn’t need to know until it’s too late.” She cuts me off. “The initial contract doesn’t specify which daughter. It simply states ‘daughter of Victoria Pierce and stepdaughter of Robert Taylor.’ A deliberate ambiguity I insisted upon, thank God.”

“You can’t be serious.” I back away, bumping into a mannequin draped in silk and lace that would never fit my body.

“Oh, I’m deadly serious.” She advances. “Your father’s company owes millions to the Harringtons. Loans Xavier can call in at any moment without this merger. Loans your father secured with everything he owns.”

“I’ll find another way. We can restructure, find new investors—”

“There is no other way!” The last of her composure shatters. “And that’s not all. Your father’s tax situation for the past years has been… creative. Necessary adjustments I made to keep us afloat while he drowned in grief over your mother.”

Ice forms in my veins. “What did you do?”

“What I had to.” Her eyes are flinty. “And I have every document, every falsified form, every manipulated number saved. If you refuse to cooperate, I’ll turn them over to the authorities myself.”

“You’d destroy him?” I stare at the woman my father chose to replace my mother. “You’d send your own husband to prison?”

“To save myself? Without hesitation.” She smiles, terrible in its honesty. “Your father is a means to an end, Aria. He always has been. The Taylors gave the Pierces the veneer of old money we needed. The Harringtons will give us the actual money.”

A crash from down the hall slices through Victoria’s chilling confession. My heart leaps into my throat as I sprint toward the sound.

Dad’s bedroom door stands ajar. Inside, I find him crumpled on the floor beside his bed, one hand clutching his chest, the other reaching for a spilled bottle of pills scattered across the hardwood like tiny white stars.

“Dad!” I drop to my knees, gathering his frail body into my arms. His skin feels clammy, his breathing shallow and ragged. “Call an ambulance!”

Victoria appears in the doorway, her gaze cold and calculating. “His medication is right there. Two pills under the tongue should stabilize him. Unless you’d rather wait for an ambulance while I make a call to the IRS.”

My hands shake as I snatch two small tablets from the floor and slip them under Dad’s tongue. His eyelids flutter. He finds my face with effort.

“Aria,” he whispers. “My girl. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“Don’t talk, Dad.” Tears drip onto his ashen cheek. “Just breathe.”

“The company,” he gasps. “My legacy to you. I’ve ruined it.”

“Shh. It’s okay. We’ll fix it.” I glance up at Victoria, still watching with the dispassionate interest of a scientist observing a failed experiment. “We need to get him to a hospital.”

“What we need,” she says, voice icy, “is your answer. Will you take Vivian’s place, or shall I make that call?”

Dad’s fingers tighten around my wrist. “What’s happening?” he wheezes.

I look down at him—the man who taught me to ride a bike, who held me through the long nights of Mom’s illness, who somehow lost his way in grief and Victoria’s schemes. His eyes, so much like mine, plead for reassurance I’m not sure I can give.

“Nothing, Dad.” I smooth his thinning hair back from his forehead. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Victoria stands tall and unbroken in the doorway, the tablet with Vivian’s damning messages still clutched in her manicured hand like a weapon.

“I’ll do it.” The words taste like ash. “I’ll take her place.”

Victoria’s smile unfurls—a victory flag planted on the battlefield of my surrender. “Wise choice. I’ll call Dr. Winters. He’s discreet.”

She turns, then pauses. “Oh, and Aria? You’ll need to start a rather aggressive diet immediately. We have six weeks to make you… presentable.”

Her footsteps fade down the hall. I hold Dad close, feeling his heartbeat slowly steady beneath my palm. Outside, lightning splits the sky, flooding the room with harsh white light and revealing the full weight of what I’ve just agreed to.

In the flash, I catch sight of myself in Dad’s mirror—soaking wet, cradling the broken man who was once my hero. Behind my reflection, just visible on the nightstand, sits a framed photograph of Mom, smiling and beautiful in the summer before her diagnosis.

“I don’t know what to do, Mom,” I whisper to her image as darkness swallows the room again. “I don’t know how to save him from her.”