“You are going upstairs,” he hissed. “You are fixing your makeup. Tomorrow night, you will stand beside me at that gala and smile like the luckiest woman alive. Do you understand?”
I looked toward the heavy front doors.
Any minute now.
Margaret came down the stairs, her heels clicking like a countdown.
“Tomorrow morning, Ava, my lawyers will send some estate documents for you to sign,” she said sweetly. “Just standard updates before the baby arrives. You will sign them without questions. Then after the gala, you’ll go quietly to the summer house until the birth. The city stress is not good for my grandson.”
The summer house.
Three hours away. Woods. Private security. A beautiful cage.
I looked at her perfect lips, cold eyes, and absolute belief that she owned my life.
Then I straightened my spine.
“No,” I whispered.
The word hung in the foyer.
Nathaniel blinked. “Excuse me?”
