The Crown of Cinders

The penthouse suite of the Valois-Montclair Tower in downtown Richmond—a skyscraper that had quietly been purchased by sovereign holdings two years prior—offered a breathtaking, panoramic view of the entire Virginia valley.

The room was vast, minimalist, and silent, save for the soft hum of the climate control system.

When the private elevator doors opened, two security guards escorted a broken Chase Whitaker into the suite. He looked smaller than he had at the altar, his shoulders hunched, his bespoke suit looking rumpled and tired.

Sitting behind a massive mahogany desk near the floor-to-ceiling glass window was Olivia.

She wore a structured ivory silk blouse and tailored trousers. A sleek silver tablet sat before her, but she wasn't looking at it. She was looking out over the horizon, sipping a cup of Earl Grey tea with absolute, unhurried serenity.

"Leave us," Olivia instructed softly.

The guards nodded and stepped back into the elevator, closing the doors behind them.

Chase stood awkwardly in the center of the vast room, clearing his throat. "Liv..."

"Please, don't," Olivia interrupted, not even turning her head to look at him. Her voice was quiet, completely devoid of anger or bitterness—which somehow made it infinitely more terrifying. "Let's save ourselves the performance, Chase. You aren't here to apologize. You're here because my lawyers told you that if you didn't show up within ten minutes, the federal fraud charges against your mother would include conspiracy to commit grand larceny."

Chase swallowed hard, taking a slow step forward. "Liv, please. I know what I did was wrong. I was weak. My family was desperate, the estate was falling apart, and... and Vanessa's father dangled a carrot in front of me that I was too stupid to resist. But we history... we had three years together. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

At that, Olivia finally turned her head. Her dark eyes locked onto his with a clarity that pierced right through his excuses.

"Three years," Olivia repeated slowly. "Three years of me helping you fix your ledgers, defending your family to local townspeople who knew you were frauds, and believing that when you looked at me, you saw a partner."

She stood up from her chair, walking slowly toward him until she stood just inches away. Though she was shorter than him, she towered over him in presence and authority.

"You didn't see a partner, Chase. You saw a placeholder," Olivia said evenly. "You thought I was an orphan with no name, no family, and no power—someone you could trade up the moment a richer bride walked through your doors. You humiliated me in front of three hundred people because you thought I had no defense."

Chase dropped his gaze to the floor, a single tear slipping down his cheek. "What do you want from me, Olivia? My family is ruined. Our home is gone. We have nothing left."

"I don't want your money, Chase. You never had any," Olivia said coldly. "I want your resignation. From everything. I want you, your mother, and your brother to sign a permanent legal waiver relinquishing any historical claim, title, or association with Willowmere forever. You will pack your bags, leave Virginia, and never step foot in this state again."

Chase looked up, horror flashing across his face. "Forever? Exile? Liv, that's everything we are!"

"No, Chase," Olivia corrected softly, stepping past him toward the window. "That's what you pretended to be. Now, you get to find out who you are when you have to build something with your own two hands—without a family name to hide behind, and without an orphan to exploit."

She didn't look back as she picked up her teacup.