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Mother clutched the back of the chair, her knuckles white against the dark leather.
"Everything I've done has been for you, for us, for the family legacy—"
"The family legacy." I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Let me explain what our family legacy looks like from where I'm standing. You've turned me into an unwitting accomplice in corporate sabotage. You've made our firm complicit in a conspiracy that could result in criminal charges. You've damaged relationships with business partners who trusted us to operate with integrity." I picked up the final folder—the thickest one. "And you've orchestrated all of this while manipulating your own son's emotions for financial gain."
Mother sank into the chair as if her legs could no longer support her. "What... what do you want from me?"
"I want you to fix it." I loomed over her, my shadow falling across her face. "You're going to contact every business partner you pressured to drop their dealings with Gardens & Home Television. You're going to personally ensure their contracts are reinstated with improved terms. You're going to have yourmedia contacts print prominent retractions about the paparazzi incident, including a statement about the staged nature of the photography." I leaned down, my voice dropping to courtroom precision. "And you're going to do it all within forty-eight hours."
"Edward, that's impossible. The damage is done, the contracts are signed, my reputation—"
"Then you'd better get creative with your approach." I straightened, looking down at her with the cold calculation she'd taught me. "Because if you don't, I'm going to transfer every asset in my name out of Grosvenor holdings. I'm going to resign from the board of directors and withdraw my voting shares. I'm going to publicly distance myself from every charity, every social commitment, every business relationship that bears our family name."
Her face went ashen. "You wouldn't dare. The inheritance laws, the trust structures—"
"I'm a lawyer, Mother. I know exactly what I can and cannot do." I pulled out my phone, scrolling to James's contact. "James has already reviewed my options. The Grosvenor Trust requires a direct male heir to maintain control. Without my participation, everything you've built reverts to the crown. Shall I call him to explain the mechanics of how I dismantle your life's work?"
For the first time in my memory, Mother looked genuinely afraid. Not concerned about appearances or social standing, but truly, bone-deep terrified. Her hands shook as she reached for her clutch.
"What you're asking... it will require admitting mistakes. Apologizing to people I've... people who..." Her voice trailed off.
"People you've crushed under your heel in service of your grand plans?" I nodded. "Yes, Mother. It will require precisely that. Humility. Accountability. Concepts that appear to be foreign to your vocabulary."
She looked up at me with something that might have been respect, if it hadn't been mixed with fear. "You've become quite ruthless, Edward."
"I learned from the best." I returned to my chair, gathering the folders with methodical precision. "You taught me that power isn't worth having unless you're willing to use it when it matters most. Consider this my master class in applied authority."
Mother stood slowly, her movements those of a woman who'd aged decades in the span of an hour. At the door, she paused without turning around, her hand trembling on the brass handle.
"And if I do this? If I somehow manage to undo years of careful planning? What then?"
"Then maybe you'll earn the right to hold your grandchildren."
The handle slipped from her grasp. She turned, eyes wide with shock. "Edward?"
"Forty-eight hours, Mother." I met her gaze steadily. "Don't make me choose between preserving our family's legacy and protecting my family's future."
After she left, I remained seated in the study, surrounded by the evidence of my family's betrayal and my own unwitting complicity.
The fire had burned low, casting long shadows across the scattered documents. Somewhere in Texas, Lili was probably lying awake, believing I'd used her for business gain. The truth was somehow worse—I'd been the weapon my Mother had used to destroy the woman I loved.
My phone buzzed with a text from James:
James:Daphne's asking questions about why Victoria's making calls to business associates at 9 pm. What should I tell her?
Me:Tell her everything. All of it. We're done with secrets.
James:And if she asks about your plans?
I stared at the phone for a long moment, then typed:
Me:Tell her I'm going to Texas. With or without Mother's cooperation.
Forty-eight hours to repair a lifetime of calculated damage.
If Mother succeeded, perhaps I could earn Lili's forgiveness.
If she failed, I'd burn down the Grosvenor empire and build something worthy of the woman who'd shown me what honor actually looked like.