Chapter 5 - The Trap is Set
Saturday arrived with a gray, threatening sky, but inside the penthouse, the atmosphere was dizzy with manic excitement.
Roberta had spent the entire morning ordering me around like a scullery maid. "Ivy! The crystal glasses have water spots! Polish them again! And why haven't you started the beef tenderloin? Arthur Sterling only eats prime-grade meat, and if it's overcooked by even a second, Wade’s promotion could be jeopardized!"
"I'm on it, Roberta," I said mildly, buffing a Baccarat crystal flute with a white cloth.
Chloe was lounging in the living room, screaming at her sons as they kicked a soccer ball against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. "Mason, stop! You’re going to scuff the glass! Jaden, go tell your aunt to bring me some more of that sparkling water!"
Wade walked into the kitchen at three in the afternoon, wearing a bespoke three-piece navy suit that I had purchased for his birthday last year. He adjusted his silk tie in the reflection of the stainless-steel refrigerator, looking immensely pleased with himself.
"Everything looking good, Ivy?" he asked, running a hand through his slicked-back hair.
"Everything is precisely on schedule, Wade," I answered, keeping my eyes fixed on the cutting board.
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a blue leather folder, sliding it across the marble counter toward me.
"Here are the papers," he said casually. "The quitclaim deed and the full power of attorney. I had my buddy in legal notarize my signature already. All you need to do is sign on the yellow tabs."
I picked up a pen from the counter, holding it lightly between my fingers. I flipped open the folder.
The language was atrocious. It wasn't just a quitclaim deed adding his name to the title; it was an irrevocable transfer of fifty percent ownership to the "Mitchell Family Trust"—a trust where Wade and Roberta were the sole trustees, completely excluding me. If I signed this, Wade could legally sell the penthouse out from under me tomorrow, and Roberta would control half the proceeds.
"Wade," I said softly, looking up into his eyes. "You really thought of everything, didn't you?"
He grinned, leaning in close, his breath smelling of expensive cologne and peppermint. "I told you, babe. I’m taking care of you. You don't have to worry about business, or money, or property ever again. Just focus on being a good mom to Leo, keep the house clean, and let me handle the world."
"You want me to sign it right now?"
"Yeah. Sign it before the guests arrive. That way, when Arthur Sterling offers me the EVP position tonight, I can announce to everyone that we’re officially expanding our family portfolio."
I uncapped the pen. I pressed the tip against the paper, right above the black line marked *Grantor: Ivy Chen.*
Wade’s eyes widened with greed. His chest swelled. He was practically vibrating with anticipation.
I raised the pen.
"Actually," I said smoothly, clicking the cap back onto the pen with a sharp *snap*. "Let’s do it in front of Arthur. It would be much more symbolic, don't you think? A public testament to our partnership."
Wade blinked, caught off guard. A flicker of suspicion crossed his face, but his overwhelming vanity quickly smoothed it away. To him, the idea of having Arthur Sterling witness his wife publicly handing over half a multi-million-dollar property was the ultimate power move. It would cement his image as the absolute master of his domain.
"Symbolic," Wade repeated slowly, a wide, arrogant smile spreading across his face. "I like that. A public demonstration of family unity. You’re smarter than you look, Ivy."
"Thank you, Wade," I whispered. "I try."
By six-thirty, the food was prepared. The beef tenderloin was resting, the roasted seasonal vegetables were arranged on silver platters, and the vintage wine was decanted. I had dressed in a simple, elegant black high-necked dress that completely concealed my compression bandages, my hair swept up in a neat chignon.
At six-forty-five, the doorbell rang.
Roberta smoothed down her lavender dress, clapped her hands together, and hissed at me, "Remember, Ivy—you speak when you’re spoken to. You serve the drinks, you smile, and you let Wade do the talking. If you embarrass my son tonight, you’ll wish that pitcher of water was all I dumped on you."
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"I won't embarrass him, Roberta," I said, meeting her cold gaze with a serenity that made her slightly uncomfortable. "Tonight will be completely unforgettable."
***
