Chapter 3She Smashed My Ferrari First

Around two in the morning, a parched throat forced me out of bed.

The estate was cloaked in heavy, moonlit silence. As I padded down the carpeted hallway toward the stairs, a muffled sound caught my attention. A crack of yellow light sliced across the floor from Dustin’s guest suite.

Courtney’s voice, sharp and laced with pure venom, leaked through the door.

"I don't give a damn, Dustin! Why does that bitch get to lounge in the master suite and cruise around in a sports car while we have to beg for scraps like dogs?"

"Keep your voice down," Dustin hissed.

"No! You are Thomas Stratton’s only son! His sole heir! Every single brick of this estate belongs to you, but you don't even have the spine to buy your own fiancée a house!"

Dustin’s reply sent a sudden, icy shockwave down my spine. His voice wasn't weak or appeasing. It was cold, dark, and utterly devoid of warmth.

"You think I don't know that? My father is completely blinded by her. Do you know how many times I’ve tried to drive a wedge between them? Last year, I secretly took candid photos of her through the bathroom window, mocked up fake messages, and spread rumors that she was sleeping with her personal trainer. And my dad didn't even blink! He threatened to disinherit me if I ever brought it up again."

I froze in the dark hallway. The breath died in my lungs.

My fingernails bit into the drywall beside me.

"Secret photos. Manufactured scandals."

Even when Dustin had learned I wasn't his biological mother, I had poured every ounce of maternal devotion into shielding him, loving him, treating him as my own blood. And all the while, behind my back, he had used the most vile, disgusting tactics imaginable to tear my marriage apart and brand me a cheater.

Thomas had been right all along. Some seeds were planted in poison. Some people were born with a rotten soul.

And I had spent twenty years watering a weed, believing it would blossom into a son.

God, what a blind, pathetic fool I had been.

Inside the bedroom, Courtney continued to whine. "I can't take another day of this. If she keeps spending like this, she’s going to drain our trust fund!"

Dustin’s voice turned mercilessly flat. "I’ve had enough of that old parasite too. She sits around doing nothing, never worked a day, just living off my father’s back and burning through my inheritance."

They kept talking, their voices dropping into hushed, conspiratorial tones, plotting how to hire a lawyer to declare me financially irresponsible, how to seize power of attorney over the family trusts, and how to lock down my debit cards before I could "waste" any more of their fortune.

Every word was a blade carving away whatever lingering affection remained in my heart.

I didn't confront them. I turned around, moving like a ghost through the shadows, and slipped back into my bedroom.

I lay in the dark, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. The grief was gone now, burned away by a cold, searing clarity.

I reached for my phone and dialed Zurich.

When Thomas answered, his voice thick with concern, I didn't hesitate.

"Thomas," I whispered, my voice steadier than it had ever been. "I signed the papers."

There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by the soft sound of a man letting out a long-held breath. "I’m proud of you, darling. I'm boarding the next flight. I’ll be home before noon."