The dining room of the Blackburn estate was a chilly, vaulted chamber that felt more like a medieval courtroom than a place for a family meal. Despite the scorching July heatwave paralyzing the streets of Manhattan outside, the heavy stone walls kept the room damp and cold.
Elena sat at the long mahogany table, entirely aware of the sharp eyes tracking her every move. To her right sat Ethan, his presence commanding and silent. At the head of the table sat Arthur, presiding over the lunch like a king reviewing his subjects. But it was the woman sitting directly across from Elena who made the air feel truly toxic.
Julianna Vance—the sharp-witted, impeccably groomed heiress to the Vance shipping fortune, and the woman the Blackburn board had originally chosen for Ethan—was smiling. It was a
