Chapter 2Ruling Wall Street In Pink Pajamas

"This private dinner is pathetic. They couldn't even manage to have fresh bluefin flown in from Tokyo?"

The attic door flew open with a heavy kick, and Aunt Cynthia’s shrill voice cut through the stillness.

I had been asleep on the cot all afternoon. Waking up, I rubbed my eyes, taking in the sight of Savannah standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a sweeping champagne silk gown, around her neck hung a vivid pink diamond pendant—an heirloom that had belonged to my late mother, traditionally passed down to the true matriarch of the Sutton line.

"Dad said tonight is just an internal family prelude," Savannah murmured, fingering the massive gem. "Once the board officially hands me the gavel tomorrow, we're booking out the Plaza ballroom for a three-day celebration."

Her gaze slid over to me, full of disdain. "Bring her down. The extended family is gathered. Let them see what the great main branch has degenerated into."

Two maids stepped forward, hoisting me by my armpits, and marched me down the winding stairs.

The ground-floor salon was ablaze with crystal chandeliers. A banquet table groaned under tiered platters of oysters, roasts, and champagne flutes. A dozen distant cousins and branch uncles stood in tight clusters, kissing Uncle Richard’s ring.

"Richard, your patience has finally paid off. Savannah has been brilliant since she was in boarding school."

"Two master's degrees by twenty-two! With her at the helm, the family portfolio will double. God knows it’s better than leaving our fortunes tied to an unresponsive toddler."

I was shoved into the center of the marble foyer.

Every eye in the room locked onto me.

I stood there in my rumpled pink pajamas, my curls sticking out at awkward angles. Right on cue, my stomach let out a soft, audible rumble.

Ignoring their mocking stares, I walked straight toward the banquet table. Resting on a silver pedestal was a slice of strawberry mousse cake. When you're hungry, you eat. It’s simple biology.

The rhythmic "clack-clack" of heels echoed behind me. Just as my fingers reached out for the silver cake fork, Savannah swept past. She feigned a sudden stumble, throwing her entire weight in my direction.

Her crystal flute tilted, splashing full-bodied Cabernet and the entire strawberry mousse cake directly over my chest.

The cold, sticky cream and dark purple wine saturated my pajamas, dripping down my hair and into my collar.

"Oh, goodness! My deepest apologies," Savannah gasped, covering her lips with faux horror, though her eyes danced with malicious glee. "I didn't notice you scrounging down here like a stray dog."

A wave of harsh, sycophantic laughter rippled through the room.

"Look at her—does that look like the heir to an empire?"

"The old man was completely blind, treating that little thing like a saint."

Uncle Richard stepped over, dabbing Savannah’s silk cuff with a linen napkin. "Careful, darling. Don't waste your energy on someone who doesn't even know what year it is. You’ll ruin your gown."

Savannah wiped her fingers, gazing down at me with arctic coldness.

"Molly, you're hungry, aren't you? Look, there's plenty of cake left." She raised her champagne-colored stiletto and ground the fallen mousse into the polished marble, crushing the delicate sponge into a smear of red and white mush. "Get on your knees and lick it clean. Consider it your dinner."

The room fell dead silent. Everyone watched with amused anticipation. Not a single person seemed to care that this was a four-year-old child standing in the wreckage. To them, Savannah held the keys to the kingdom; her cruelty was simply sovereign privilege.

I stood completely still, looking down at the sticky mess on the floor. The cold sensation of wet silk against my skin was deeply unpleasant.

Without a word, I turned toward the stairs to go change.

My indifference drove Savannah over the edge. She took a swift step forward, her sharp heel coming down directly onto the trailing hem of my pajama bottoms.

"Did I give you permission to walk away?" she hissed. "An idiot who can't even count to ten dares to ignore me?"

She yanked back, trying to force me to lose my balance and tumble backward.

I didn't cry out. I didn't lose my temper. With calm deliberation, I bent down, worked my small fingers under the sole of her shoe, and slid the damp fabric free.

"You got my pajamas dirty," I said, my voice level and clear.

Savannah froze for a fraction of a second, unsettled by the quiet in my eyes, before pointing a shaking, manicured finger at my face.

"Tomorrow morning, you won't even have the right to breathe the air in this house."