Chapter 3

The dining room of the Reynolds mansion was a shrine to old money and bad taste. Crystal chandeliers hung over a table that seated twenty. The smell of bacon and expensive coffee filled the air.

Darleen walked in, holding Julian's hand. Aria skipped beside her, her princess backpack bouncing. The moment they crossed the threshold, the clinking of silverware stopped.

Britteny sat at the table, draped over Kian's shoulder. She wore a silk robe that probably cost more than Darleen's entire wardrobe. Kian had his arm around her, his fingers playing with the collar of her robe.

Britteny looked up and flashed a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Well, well," Britteny cooed. "The prodigal slut returns. And with two little souvenirs, I see."

Darleen didn't react. She pulled out a chair for Julian, then lifted Aria into the seat next to him. She placed napkins in their laps.

Kian smirked. He looked Darleen up and down, his gaze lingering on her faded jeans.

"Four years, Darleen," Kian said, shaking his head. "You disappear without a word, and now you show up with two kids in tow? Who was the unlucky guy? Let me guess, he didn't want you either?"

Julian stopped eating. He turned his head slowly, his dark eyes fixing on Kian. The look was so cold, so intense, that Kian actually flinched, his hand freezing mid-air.

Britteny laughed, breaking the tension. She leaned forward, examining Aria's dress.

"Target clearance rack?" Britteny sneered. "Does your baby daddy even pay child support? Or is he as broke as you are?"

Aria's lower lip trembled. She dropped her fork and clutched her backpack to her chest, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Crash.

Darleen slammed her coffee cup down. The hot liquid splashed over the rim, staining the white tablecloth. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

She looked at Kian, her gaze lethal.

"You cheated on me with my stepsister," Darleen said, her voice low and biting. "You have absolutely no right to talk about dignity or face. You traded yours for a trust fund."

Kian's face turned red. He slammed his palm on the table and stood up.

"You watch your mouth," he snarled.

Britteny rolled her eyes. "Please, Darleen. You're living in our house, eating our food. You're an unemployed beggar. Don't act high and mighty."

Darleen stood up. She was tall, and standing at her full height, she seemed to tower over the seated couple. Her posture was rigid, her eyes blazing with contempt.

"I've only ever accepted what was necessary for the children," Darleen said. "Nothing more."

Britteny opened her mouth to retort, but Aria suddenly popped her head out from behind Darleen.

"My daddy is the stinky king!" Aria shouted, her voice ringing with childish defiance. "He has a big castle!"

Kian and Britteny stared at the little girl. Then, they burst out laughing. The sound was harsh and grating, echoing off the high ceilings.

"A king?" Britteny wheezed, wiping a tear from her eye. "You're delusional. Did you hit your head, or are you just passing your crazy on to the kid?"

"Even a king wouldn't look twice at a boring nobody like you," Kian added, his laugh dying into a sneer.

Darleen didn't explain. She didn't defend herself. She just stared at them, a faint, knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Ding-dong.

The front doorbell rang, loud and insistent. A maid came running in, her face pale and flustered.

"Ma'am!" the maid stammered, looking at Britteny. "There are... there are people at the door. Important people."

Britteny perked up. She smoothed her hair, assuming it was her socialite friends coming for brunch.

"Finally," she said, standing up. "Some real conversation."

She strutted toward the foyer. Darleen followed at a slower pace, holding the children's hands. She knew what was coming. She had been waiting for it.

The heavy oak front door swung open.

Four men in black suits stepped inside first. They moved with military precision, scanning the room, their earpieces glinting. The air in the house instantly dropped ten degrees.

Britteny froze, her smile vanishing. She took a step back, intimidated by the sheer size of the bodyguards.

Then, an older man walked in. He leaned on a silver-tipped cane, his posture stiff, his blue eyes sharp.

Kian, who had followed them, choked on his own spit. He recognized that face. It was on the cover of Forbes every other month.

"T-Thurston West?" Kian stammered.

Thurston ignored him. He ignored Britteny. He walked straight past them, his eyes locked on Darleen.

He stopped in front of her. He gave her a slight, formal nod. The gesture was respectful, almost deferential.

Britteny's jaw practically hit the floor. She looked like she had swallowed a bug.

"Ms. Reynolds," Thurston said, his voice carrying through the silent foyer. "Mr. West has agreed to the meeting. We leave for the island tomorrow."