Chapter 7 - The Phone Call That Changed Everything
I picked up the phone, my hand remarkably steady, and pressed accept.
"Clara?" My mother’s voice burst through the speaker, frantic, breathless, and dripping with an artificial sweetness that made my skin crawl. "Clara, thank God. Are you alright? We’ve been trying to call you for hours, but the cell towers in Vermont—well, in Aspen—were down because of the storm."
"I'm fine, Mom," I said, my voice ice-cold.
"Oh, sweetheart, thank goodness. Listen, we had the most dreadful time getting out here, and Grant’s parents are just exhausted, but we were talking about you last night—"
"Did you miss your flight?" I interrupted smoothly.
There was a sudden, sharp silence on the other end of the line. "What? No, of course not. We're at the resort. The photographs are breathtaking. But Clara, listen to me very carefully. Brenda Mercer called my cell phone ten minutes ago in absolute hysterics."
I took a slow sip of my coffee, looking straight into Nico’s dark, amused eyes. "Did she?"
"She said the police are at her apartment," my mother hissed, lowering her voice as if someone in Aspen might overhear. "She said Julian was arrested an hour ago for some corporate embezzlement scheme involving the bakery accounts. And she said... she said the commercial lease has been revoked by Vale Harbor Holdings."
"That sounds terrible," I said mildly.
"Clara, don't use that tone with me!" My mother’s veneer of polite maternal concern vanished instantly, replaced by the sharp, shrill panic of a woman whose social standing was crumbling. "Brenda said you were involved! She said you threatened them last night before you left! You need to call whoever is in charge—some billionaire named Vale—and straighten this out immediately. Paige’s fiancé's family cannot be associated with a criminal investigation!"
I looked at Nico. He reached out, gently taking the phone from my hand, his long fingers brushing mine. He pressed the speakerphone button and held it between us.
"Mrs. Bennett," Nico said, his voice cutting through the speaker with the absolute, bone-chilling authority of a man who owned the ground she was standing on. "This is Nico Vale."
A sharp gasp echoed from the phone. "Mr... Mr. Vale? I... I didn't realize—my daughter was just—"
"Your daughter is no longer employed by Winter & Rye," Nico interrupted smoothly, his gaze locked onto mine. "In fact, as of eight o'clock this morning, Clara Bennett is the sole owner and executive director of the entire property, as well as the commercial building it inhabits."
Silence descended on the line—a heavy, suffocating silence that lasted ten full seconds.
"Owner?" my mother whispered, her voice cracking with sheer disbelief. "How... how is that possible?"
"Because unlike you, Mrs. Bennett, I recognize value when I see it," Nico said coldly. "And as for your family trip to Aspen? I suggest you enjoy the photographs. Because when you return to Boston, you will find that your social circle is remarkably smaller when you no longer have a daughter to exploit for free labor and emotional convenience."
May you like
Nico didn't wait for her to answer. He tapped the screen, ending the call, and tossed the phone onto the marble counter as if it were nothing more than a piece of trash.
I stood there, breathless, my chest rising and falling. The ghost of every holiday I had ever spent apologizing for my presence was suddenly gone, burned away by the fire of a man who had heard a desperate wish in the dark and decided to make it law.
