Chapter 3Inheritance Betrayal And Cold Revenge

When I got home that evening, Madeline was in the living room on a call. Seeing me, she lowered her voice, whispered, “I’ll call you back,” and hung up.

“Adrian, perfect timing. I wanted to talk to you.”

She patted the cushion beside her, gesturing for me to sit. I remained standing.

“Dominic is incredibly impressed with the project proposal,” she said, her voice light and airy as she crossed her legs. “We might sign the framework agreement as early as next week. See? I told you it would only be a couple of days—”

“He posted on social media calling it a gift, Madeline.”

Her legs uncrossed. Her smile faltered. “What?”

I handed her my phone.

She stared at the screen for five seconds. A small frown appeared between her brows, then vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

“He’s just posturing, Adrian. People in his position need to maintain an image. Calling it a gift sounds better for his brand. I have it under control. The moment the contract is signed, I’ll get it back.”

“Madeline, it’s a twenty-million-dollar heirloom. You don’t ‘have it under control’ when it’s on another man’s wrist.”

She stood up and walked to the kitchen island to pour a glass of wine. “Can you please try to have some perspective? This is a three-hundred-million-dollar deal. What is one watch compared to that? When this closes, I’ll buy you something even better. Whatever you want.”

Something better.

There were only three in the world. What could possibly be better?

The doorbell rang. Madeline went to answer it.

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

My father-in-law, Arthur, walked in wearing a cashmere overcoat, his hair perfectly coiffed. He was carrying a thermal container.

“Madeline told me you were feeling a bit… stressed lately,” he said, setting the container on the dining table and giving me a pointed look. “I had the cook make some sea bass. Good for the nerves. Sit down, let’s eat.”

For the nerves.

“Arthur,” I said, my voice steady. “Madeline took my grandfather’s watch and gave it to another man.”

Arthur opened the container, steam billowing out. “Madeline told me about that. It’s just a loan for business purposes, Adrian. You’ll get it back. Don’t be so sensitive.”

“It’s not a two-hundred-dollar trinket.”

“I know what it’s worth,” Arthur said, spooning the fish onto a plate and sliding it toward me. “But Madeline is doing this for the family business. She’s worked incredibly hard to get where she is. As her husband, shouldn’t you be her biggest supporter?”

“It was my grandfather’s legacy.”

“The man is gone, Adrian. Are you really going to tell me a piece of metal is more important than your wife’s future?”

My breath hitched for a second.

Arthur didn’t seem to notice. He kept talking. “Besides, you’ve been part of this family for five years. We’ve provided everything—the clothes, the cars, the lifestyle. Has Madeline ever mistreated you? It’s one watch. Is it really worth causing this much drama?”

Madeline sat at the table, silent, staring into her wine glass.

I looked at her, but she refused to meet my gaze.

“Arthur,” I said, picking up the plate and setting it back down. “When you went to my father’s house last Thursday and asked where his jade collection was… did Madeline send you?”

Arthur’s hand paused for a fraction of a second. Then he shrugged. “I was just checking in on things. Family looks after family.”

“That jade belongs to my father. It is not, and will never be, part of our marital assets.”

“You see?” Arthur turned to Madeline. “Your husband is interrogating me like I’m a common criminal. Madeline, are you going to let him talk to me like this?”

Madeline finally spoke. “Adrian, just drop it. Dad is just looking out for us.”

Looking out for us.

From the beginning, not one of them had asked for my permission.

“Madeline,” I said, standing up. “I’m saying this one last time. Get the watch back. You have three days.”

She sighed, a long, weary sound. “Fine, fine. I’ll talk to Dominic. Happy?”

As Arthur was leaving, he patted my shoulder with a patronizing heavy hand. “Don’t be so petty, Adrian. Look at your own father—he’s been married to your mother for decades and never started a fight over ‘things.’ Be a bigger man. That’s how a marriage lasts.”

The door clicked shut.

I stood in the foyer, staring at the cooling sea bass.

Three days. I gave myself a deadline.