The speakerphone crackled. Ryan’s voice echoed through the room, cold and hollow.
“I heard everything, Mother.”
For a split second, panic flashed in Vanessa’s eyes. But she was a professional. She quickly composed herself, crossing her arms as her signature arrogant smirk returned.
“So what?” Vanessa scoffed. “He’s obsessed with me. I’ll cry, tell him you provoked me, and he’ll be begging for my forgiveness by dinner. You haven’t won anything.”
Catherine calmly locked her phone screen. She stood up, smoothing the lapels of her immaculate white suit, and walked over to the mirror-lined walls of the high-end jewelry boutique they were standing in.
“Oh, Vanessa,” Catherine said, her voice dripping with quiet pity. “You completely misunderstood.”
Vanessa’s smirk faltered.
“I didn’t call Ryan to break up your little engagement,” Catherine murmured, admiring a flawless diamond necklace resting on a black velvet bust. “I called him to record you.”
“A recording won’t hold up in court!”
“I don’t need a court,” Catherine whispered. She turned around, the heavy diamonds around her own neck catching the light, flashing like tiny blades. “I needed it for the family trust’s hostility clause. The one that automatically and irrevocably disinherits any Whitmore heir who conspires against the estate.”
Vanessa froze. The color didn’t just drain from her face—it vanished.
“You see, darling,” Catherine smiled, leaning in. “Ryan isn’t a billionaire anymore. As of sixty seconds ago, his trust is dissolved. His black cards are canceled. His name is off the deed.”
Inside Vanessa’s purse, her phone began to buzz violently. Caller ID: *Ryan*.
Catherine tilted her head, her gaze utterly merciless. “Congratulations on your upcoming wedding. He’s penniless, and he’s all yours.”
Catherine turned to the clerk. “I’ll take the necklace. Wrap it up.”