The manager glanced at the back of my head, and a sheen of cold sweat instantly broke out across his forehead.

Two days prior, the true, hidden ultimate owner of the club—a subsidiary of Blackwood Holdings—had issued the strictest directive in the establishment’s history. An incredibly high-ranking guest will visit. Even if she only asks for a glass of tap water, she is to be served like a reigning monarch.

The manager completely ignored Genevieve’s screeching. He took three massive, hurried strides toward my couch and bowed deeply, showing profound respect and palpable, vibrating fear.

“Miss Blackwood,” he stammered slightly. “Is the AC bothering you? Is the tea not to your liking? Shall I have the executive chef prepare some fresh hors d’oeuvres?”

Genevieve was dumbfounded. Her jaw went slack. “Manager, are you blind? Her name is Ellie! She’s a broke, dumped housewife that Julian just threw out onto the street! And you’re sucking up to her? I’m calling Julian right now. He’s going to cancel his membership and pull his investments from this dump!”

Part 3

Genevieve pulled out her bedazzled phone, her fingers furiously dialing Julian’s number. She turned the speakerphone on, eager to broadcast my public humiliation to the entire marble lobby.

“Julian!” she shrieked into the mic, glaring at me with eyes full of venom. “You won’t believe this! Your pathetic ex-wife Ellie is at Serenity causing a scene! She’s acting like she owns the place, and the spineless manager here is actually bowing to her! Cancel your membership right now and demand his fire—”

“Genevieve, shut up!” Julian’s voice barked through the speaker, devoid of its usual arrogant calm. He sounded breathless, frantic, and on the razor’s edge of absolute panic.

Genevieve froze, her smug smirk faltering. “Julian? What’s wrong with you?”

“Where are you?! Get back here right now!” Julian bellowed, background noise roaring through his line—shouting executives, ringing phones, and slammed doors. “The board just called an emergency meeting! Our primary credit lines were frozen twenty minutes ago! Every single institutional investor is pulling out, and Blackwood Holdings just hostile-overtook our majority debt portfolio! We are losing everything!”

“W-what?” Genevieve stammered, her voice dropping an octave as the phone trembled in her hand. “Blackwood Holdings? What does that have to do with us?”

I slowly closed my magazine and set it down on the glass table with a quiet clack. I stood up, smoothing the front of my white shirt, and turned around to face her.

“It has everything to do with you, Genevieve,” I said softly, my voice carrying effortlessly across the silent lobby.

Genevieve stared at me, her eyes widening as realization began to scrape against her shallow mind. “No… no way. You’re… you’re just Ellie. You’re a nobody!”

“Manager,” I said calmly, without taking my eyes off her.

“Yes, Miss Blackwood!” the manager replied instantly, bowing his head even lower.

“Revoke the Vance family’s membership. Effective immediately. Call security and have this woman escorted off the premises. She’s disturbing my tea.”

“Right away, Miss Blackwood!” The manager signaled to four towering, suit-clad security guards who had already moved into formation.

Before Genevieve could scream, two guards firmly gripped her arms, lifting her off her towering stilettos. Her phone tumbled onto the floor, Julian’s panicked shouts still crackling through the speaker until a guard’s boot accidentally crushed it into pieces.

“Get your filthy hands off me! Do you know who I am?!” Genevieve shrieked as she was dragged backward toward the glass doors. “Ellie! You bitch! You can’t do this to me! Julian will ruin you!”

I didn’t bother answering. I picked up my black tea, took a small sip, and walked toward the private elevator. Harrison was waiting for me at the Grand Aster.

The Grand Ballroom of the Grand Aster Hotel was a monument to obscene wealth. Cascading crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light over three hundred of New York’s most powerful elites, corporate titans, and political figures.

Julian Vance stood near the fountain at the center of the ballroom, sweating through his custom tuxedo. His mother, Victoria, clutched his arm, her diamond necklace heavy against her trembling collarbones.

“Julian, what is happening?” Victoria hissed, her eyes darting nervously around the room. “Why is everyone looking at us like that? Why aren’t the board members returning your calls?”

“I don’t know, Mother!” Julian whispered harshly, dabbing a silk handkerchief at his forehead. “Someone is shorting our stock. Someone with bottomless capital is systematically liquidating our assets. But it doesn’t matter—once we make our speech tonight and announce our merger with the Sterling Group’s regional branch, the market will stabilize.”

Just then, the grand double doors of the ballroom swung wide open.

The brass fanfare silenced instantly. Every head in the room turned toward the entrance.

Harrison stepped through first, flanked by six personal guards in charcoal suits. He raised his hand, signaling the master of ceremonies.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer’s voice boomed across the hall, trembling with genuine awe. “Presenting the supreme executive chair of Blackwood Dynasty, sole heiress to the global empire… Miss Eleanor Blackwood!”

A collective gasp swept through the room.

I walked into the ballroom wearing a floor-length, backless gown of deep emerald velvet. My hair was swept up, revealing a breathtaking teardrop diamond necklace from the Blackwood private vault—a piece worth more than the entire Vance Enterprises headquarters. Beside me, holding my hand with a radiant smile, was my daughter Maya, wearing a matching white silk dress and a tiny silver tiara. Her smile was whole, her spirit restored, and her hand held safely in mine.