The Heiress’s Revenge Chapter 02
Applause. The first waltz ended.
Skylar leaned against Greyson’s shoulder, cheeks flushed.
The three men who’d come for me crowded around her, offering champagne.
Greyson crossed the room toward me.
He bent low. “Thea. You’re strong. You’re a survivor. I know you can handle something like this. But Skylar… she’s fragile. Not like you. If I don’t reach for her, she’ll break. Do it for me. Alright?”
I said nothing.
His voice dropped. “Half the people here tonight came to laugh at Skylar. If I’m not on her side—the circle will shred her by morning.” A pause. “Can you understand that?”
“If word gets out about tonight,” I cut in, “what will they say? The Wentworth daughter can’t even hold her own floor?”
He frowned. “You overthink everything. Who’d dare laugh at you, Thea?”
I looked down. He didn’t know. The Wentworth succession had hit its breaking point.
My father’s legal notice was clear. Grandfather’s family trust had a hidden clause. All heirs must marry before thirty. Or forfeit their inheritance rights.
I had three days left.
He wanted me scrambling. Either beg Greyson to marry me—disappointing my grandfather—or let him “generously” introduce me to a string of bankrupt speculators under his thumb. Let marriage destroy me.
I’d wanted to stay outside the game a little longer. That one waltz shattered every option I had left.
Skylar hurried over, eyes bright with expectation. “Greyson, will you introduce me to the directors? I’m not… thorough like my sister. She has this encrypted file on her laptop. Detailed analysis of every director’s voting patterns, equity vulnerabilities, even scandals about their children. She calls it ‘due diligence.’ Says you can’t strike until you know everything.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth. Her voice came out breathy. “I—I don’t mean she’s scheming. She’s just… thorough.”
Two matrons nearby let their smiles thin. “Compiling dirt on the directors? This Wentworth daughter has quite the mind.” “No wonder she clawed into the heir candidacy in three years.”
The murmurs drifted over. My blood went cold.
That file was an assignment from Grandfather. He’d told me to study every director’s business strategy. Greyson had helped me with it.
He said nothing. Let me become the storm’s center.
Skylar tugged Greyson’s sleeve. “Did I say something wrong again? I just admire how capable she is. I’m so useless…”
She touched my head. “It’s fine. Your sister’s too big-hearted to get angry at you.” Then she led Greyson away to greet the guests.
“Greyson—”
The whispers drowned me out. “I almost felt sorry for her, getting upstaged. God. She’s that calculating.”
***
I stood there. Cold all over.
Thought of the rainy day three years ago. The day I first came back to Wentworth.
My adoptive parents were upper middle class. But next to a dynasty like Wentworth, they were nothing.
The day I was brought to Wentworth Manor, Boston was drowning in rain.
I stood outside the gates alone. Grandfather wanted to test me. Made me wait.
That’s when I met Greyson. He walked over with an umbrella. “Little girl, just getting home? I’ll protect you from now on.”
Now his umbrella shaded someone else.
I set down my glass. Walked to the terrace. The night wind cut cold against my face. The composure I’d forced all evening began to crack.
Grandfather was flying back from Palm Beach in three days. If word of tonight got out—in his eyes, it would be a mark against me.
***
I stood there a long time before walking back inside.
Kieran strode toward me. “Thea. Don’t.”
I followed his gaze. The pair on the floor were still spinning.
He thought I was going to fight for him. Of course he did.
Of the three, Kieran was the only one who’d been with me before my adoption. We’d survived years together in that Southside foster home.
Every time they handed out apples, I’d charge in and grab the biggest, reddest one. Then shove it at him. He was slow at everything. I was scared he’d starve.
After I got adopted, I saved every penny of my allowance. Begged my adoptive parents to pull strings. Got him into an expensive art school.
I poured everything into lifting him up. Made him a respected art authenticator.
But I was just a weed who’d clawed out of the mud beside him. No amount of nurture could compete with the unreachable moonlight in the sky.