The crunch of tires on gravel violently cut Julianne’s laughter short. A sleek black SUV glided up the driveway, idling like a predator in shallow water.
Marcus sneered, crossing his arms and adjusting his silver watch. “Who is that?” he mocked, glancing down at Maya. “Coming to beg for your job back?”
The heavy door of the SUV swung open. A silver-haired man in a razor-sharp suit stepped out, carrying a single black leather folder. He didn’t spare a glance for the faux-royalty on the porch. Instead, he walked decisively to Maya’s side, planted his feet, and leveled a lethal, unblinking glare at the couple.
He flipped the folder open. “I represent the legal owner of the Blackwood Estate,” his voice boomed, carrying absolute, terrifying authority. “The deed is hers. You have ten minutes to leave.”
Julianne’s smug mask shattered. “That’s impossible! We hold the transfer signatures!”
“You hold the transfer for Blackwood Holdings,” the lawyer corrected, his tone turning to ice. “A shell corporation currently defaulting on forty million dollars of hidden debt. But the physical estate was placed in an unassailable, blind trust decades ago—triggered only when the counterfeit heirs attempted to seize the land.”
Genuine shock ripped through Maya. She stared at the legal parchment in the folder. The watermark matched the exact symbol on the battered silver ring she had worn since childhood. She hadn’t just been the architect’s apprentice; she was the true bloodline.
Marcus went dead pale. In his arrogance, he hadn’t stolen a fortune—he had forged his way into a massive, inescapable bankruptcy.
Maya reached down, plucking her silver ring from the scattered boxes and slipping it onto her finger. The shock melted into a slow, wicked smile.
“Ten minutes,” Maya echoed softly. “Start walking.”