The voice was cold-so cold, it seemed to carry no trace of warmth at all.


    Yet Victor recognized it instantly. It was Isadora''s voice.


    Hearing this, Victor''s expression barely changed, save for a slight darkening of his features. But Deanna noticed the way his hand, clutching the small recorder, turned white-knuckled. Slowly, a faint, grim smile curled at the corner of his mouth.


    Her precious grandson, Victor, had grown up at the very top of the world.


    From childhood, he''d been raised under the Fitzgerald family''s unyielding standards for an heir: ruthless, decisive, relentlessly logical. That cold-blooded resolve, that calcting mind, and—deeper still-a bone-deep detachment from emotion... These were the qualities Dorian and Deanna once took the most pride in.


    Only with such traits could he be a worthy sessor to the Fitzgerald name, the only one capable of leading the family''s empire into its next century.


    Deanna had never imagined a woman could threaten all of that.


    And she would never allow it.


    "Victor, money means nothing to us. But I won''t tolerate anyone deceiving you or hurting you. That woman doesn''t love you. She''s only using you to climb higher."


    The heavy silence in the grand hall stretched on, oppressive and thick.


    Victor''s gaze was unreadable, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful.


    Under the icy brilliance of the crystal chandeliers, his shadow stretched long and severe against the floor-sharp-edged and forbidding.


    With a sudden crash, he hurled the recorder to the ground. Without a word, he turned and strode out, his footsteps echoing behind him.


    *


    Vaughan Manor.


    For the past two days, Isadora hadn''t gone back to Summit Crest Estates after work.


    Ever since she''d forced Richard and Prescott out, the housekeeper had cleared out everyst trace of their belongings. Still, little reminders of their presence lingered everywhere.


    Isadora was already making ns to sell the ce and buy a new home.


    Eleanor, too, had changed-subtly, but unmistakably-since everything that had happened.


    She sat on the sofa, gazing at Isadora with a gentle, moonlit warmth in her eyes. A loving smile touched her lips.


    "Isadora, as long as I get to live with you, it doesn''t matter where we are."


    Now, only Isadora and Eleanor lived at Vaughan Manor. The household staff had shrunk from nearly eight people down to just two.


    The house felt quieter, but warmer, too.


    It was as if Isadora had stepped into the kind of family life she''d always longed for. Thefort she felt wasn''t overwhelming, but it seeped in slowly-like lost childhood affection finally returning to fill all the empty spaces.


    For a moment, the changes in the Vaughan family struck her with fresh rity.


    It seemed like only yesterday-just over three years ago that she''d first been brought back into their lives, frightened and utterly adrift. Now, she was truly the mistress of the Vaughan family, and she even had a mother who, thoughte, finally loved her.


    Eleanor''s expression softened as she remembered a phone call from that afternoon.


    "One of my old friends heard about what''s been happening. She lives up in Northmarch, and she wants me to visit for a little while, just to get away and clear my head. I haven''t decided yet."


    The shift in their rtionship was still new and delicate; even the thought of leaving for a couple of months made Eleanor hesitate.


    Isadora understood. She also thought it would do her mother good to get away.


    "You should go," she smiled. "When youe back, we''ll find a new ce to live -together."


    Eleanor''s eyes grew misty at that. Not wanting Isadora to notice her tears, she quickly stood and excused herself, saying she needed to make a phone call.


    Isadora lounged back on the sofa, lost in thought.


    Since the day Victor had dropped her off at work, she hadn''t received a single message from him. She hadn''t sent any, either.


    It felt like they were locked in a silent standoff, neither willing to make the first move.


    Almost without thinking, Isadora nced at her phone, staring at the little reminder on her calendar.


    Three days left until the deadline for their breakup.


    Hershes lowered, shadowing her eyes.