Vanessa snatched the phone, her manicured nails practically cracking the glass screen. “Julian! Baby, listen to me, it’s a misunderstanding! We were just—”
*Click.* The line went dead.
The silence in the glittering boutique was deafening. Vanessa’s terror instantly curdled into a feral, cornered rage. She slammed the phone onto the marble floor. “You rich old bitch. You set me up.”
Eleanor didn’t even flinch. She elegantly adjusted the cuffs of her immaculate white suit. “I merely provided the microphone, dear. You wrote the script.”
Vanessa lifted her chin, desperately clinging to her trump card. “It doesn’t matter. He won’t leave me. I’m pregnant.”
Eleanor smiled. A slow, chilling smirk that instantly dropped the room’s temperature. “I know.”
Vanessa froze.
Eleanor glides closer, her own diamonds catching the harsh overhead lights. “Did you really think a billionaire falls for a bartender by accident? Our bloodline needed an heir. We needed a surrogate. Someone young, greedy, and easily disposed of.”
Vanessa backed up, her spine hitting the cold mirrored wall. “The wedding…”
“A fairy tale to keep you compliant,” Eleanor purred. “But that ‘prenup’ you eagerly signed yesterday morning? It wasn’t a marriage contract. It was an irrevocable custody surrender. It came with a massive payout—provided you didn’t breach the morality and fraud clause.”
Eleanor leaned in, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Which you just did. On a recorded line.”
The boutique’s heavy glass doors locked with a sharp *thud* as two towering security guards emerged from the back room.
Eleanor effortlessly unclasps the teardrop diamond necklace from Vanessa’s trembling neck, pulling it away like ice.
“Keep the earrings,” the matriarch said, turning away without a backward glance. “You’ll need something to pawn for your bus ticket home. Gentlemen, take out the trash.”