“So I wait?”
“You wait,” Mark said. “You hold the cards. And when he makes a mistake, you play them.”
I left the office carrying a folder that weighed a thousand pounds. I walked through the city as the sun set, watching people rush home to their lives, unaware of the dramas unfolding around them.
I thought about Mrs. Catherine Harrison, the elegant, silent wife. I thought about Sarah, desperate for her father’s approval. I thought about Michael, who believed he was marrying into stability.
And then I remembered Robert’s words to my son: Not just anyone can support her.
He was projecting. He was the one who couldn’t support anyone. He was the fraud.
I went home and hid the folder under the blankets in my closet. I decided then: I would go to the wedding. I would bring the folder. And if Robert Harrison dared to humiliate my son one more time… I would burn his kingdom to ash.
The week of the wedding was a blur of tension. There was a rehearsal dinner at the Harrison estate—a mansion that smelled of money but was likely mortgaged to the hilt.
Robert cornered me in his study. It was a room lined with leather-bound books that looked unread.
