Chapter 4 4

Sunday brunch at the Garrison Estate was a theatrical performance of wealth and hypocrisy. The sunroom was flooded with light, reflecting off the crystal flutes of mimosas held by people who despised each other.

Avery sat at the far end of the long table, her hands folded in her lap. She wore a pale yellow dress that washed her out, making her look even more ghost-like than usual.

Augustus sat at the center, radiating arrogance. To his right sat his mother, Eleanor, a woman whose face was pulled so tight by surgery she looked permanently surprised.

And to Augustus's left sat Gilda.

She wasn't invited, technically. But the Garrisons tolerated power, and Gilda was currently projecting it.

A servant approached with a pitcher of mimosas. Gilda held up a hand, a dramatic, sweeping gesture that silenced the table.

"No alcohol for me," she said, her voice carrying clearly to the ends of the room.

Eleanor paused, her fork hovering halfway to her mouth. "On a diet, dear?"

Gilda smiled, turning to look at Augustus. He looked smug, patting her hand on the tablecloth.

"Not exactly," Gilda said. She placed a hand on her stomach. "We're expecting."

The sound of silverware clattering against fine china echoed in the room. Eleanor dropped her fork. Franklin Garrison, Augustus's father, lowered his newspaper.

"An heir?" Franklin boomed, a smile breaking across his stern face. "A Garrison heir?"

"Yes," Augustus said, puffing out his chest. "A boy, we think. It's early, but the doctors are optimistic."

The table erupted. Eleanor was out of her chair, rushing to hug Gilda. Franklin called for a toast to the future of the lineage. They cooed and fawned, their excitement palpable.

Avery sat in silence. She was completely erased. It was as if she didn't exist. She was the wife, sitting ten feet away, while her husband celebrated his mistress's pregnancy with his parents.

Augustus cleared his throat. The room quieted down. He looked at Avery, his expression hardening. He reached under his chair and pulled out a thick manila envelope. He slid it down the table. It stopped just in front of Avery's untouched plate.

"It's time to formalize the transition, Avery," he said. "We need to make room for the family."

Avery picked up the envelope. Her hands trembled-just enough for them to see. She opened it.

It was a divorce settlement.

She scanned the terms. They were offering her the villa in the Hamptons-a money pit that needed a new roof-and fifty million dollars.

Fifty million. Augustus was worth four billion.

"It's a generous offer," Eleanor said, her voice sharp. "Considering you're... well, barren. You provided no value to this family, Avery. This is a kindness."

Gilda smirked, stroking her flat stomach. "We just want what's best for everyone."

Avery lowered her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the moisture to gather in her lashes. When she looked up, a single, perfect tear tracked down her cheek.

"Is there no other way?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

"We need an heir, Avery," Augustus said coldly. "You couldn't give me one. Gilda did. It's simple biology."

Avery nodded slowly, looking defeated. She pushed the paper back toward him, but stopped.

"I will sign," she said.

Augustus let out a breath he had been holding. "Good."

"But," Avery added, sniffing. "I need my lawyer to review it first. Just... just to make sure I understand the tax implications. I'm not very good with numbers."

Augustus laughed. It was a cruel, barking sound. "Of course you aren't. Fine. Have your little lawyer look at it. But make it quick. I want this done by Tuesday."

Avery stood up. "Excuse me. I... I need a moment."

She turned and walked out of the sunroom. Behind her, she heard the pop of a champagne cork. She heard Eleanor laughing, saying, "Thank God she's finally gone. Such a depressing little thing."

Avery walked into the hallway. The moment she was out of sight, she stopped.

She reached up and wiped the tear from her cheek with a single, brutal swipe of her thumb. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders rolled back. She didn't look back at the sunroom.

She walked toward the exit with the stride of a predator who had just set a trap and was now waiting for the snap.