Chapter 5

Eleonora marched back into the living room.

The furious storm on her face vanished the second she looked at Frieda. Her expression softened into pure, grandmotherly warmth.

She walked straight to the coffee table. She reached out and gently pulled the damp rag out of Frieda's hands.

"Come sit with me, child," Eleonora said, pulling Frieda toward the sofa.

Dewitt stepped into the room from the balcony. He stopped right behind the sofa. His eyes were locked on his grandmother's hands, his entire body rigid with tension.

Eleonora pushed Frieda down onto the cushions. She sat beside her and took Frieda's hands, rubbing her thumbs over the rough, calloused edges of Frieda's fingers.

"Tell me the truth, Frieda," Eleonora said softly. "How much money does Dewitt give you for household expenses every month?"

Frieda blinked. She looked up, her eyes darting nervously to Dewitt.

He was staring at her, his face completely blank, but a muscle feathered in his jaw.

"One thousand dollars," Frieda answered honestly.

Eleonora sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes widened in genuine shock.

She whipped her head around and glared at Dewitt. If looks could kill, he would be bleeding out on the cheap rug.

One thousand dollars in New York City. It was barely enough to keep the lights on. It was financial abuse.

Dewitt looked away. He stared at the blank wall, his jaw locked so tight his teeth ached. He refused to apologize.

Eleonora let out a disgusted huff. She turned to Maura and snapped her fingers.

Maura immediately handed over Eleonora's limited-edition Hermès Birkin bag.

Eleonora popped the gold clasp. She reached into the hidden zipper compartment.

She pulled out a heavy, matte-black metal card.

It had no numbers on the front. Just a subtle, engraved pattern. It was the Centurion Card. An invite-only, no-limit black card that screamed unimaginable, bottomless wealth.

Dewitt saw the black metal flash in the light.

His heart stopped dead in his chest.

His blood turned to ice water. His lungs seized. If Frieda took that card to any bank, any high-end store, the concierge would immediately address her by his real name. His billionaire status would be exposed in seconds.

"Here," Eleonora said, pressing the heavy metal card toward Frieda. "This is for you. Buy whatever you want. Clothes, food, anything."

Frieda looked down. She stared at the card. Even without knowing what it was, the sheer weight and coldness of the metal made her instincts scream that it was dangerous.

"Grandma!" Dewitt barked.

He took a swift, measured step forward, using his broad frame to smoothly block the space between Frieda and his grandmother. He kept his voice low and firm. "Grandma, please don't do this. You're going to put her in a difficult position."

Thwack!

Eleonora swung her wooden cane. The hard rubber tip slammed violently into Dewitt's shin, punishing his attempt to intervene.

Dewitt grunted in pain. He stumbled, his hand dropping to his side.

"Do not interrupt me!" Eleonora hissed at him.

Dewitt gritted his teeth. His mind raced, desperately searching for a lie to stop this.

He leaned down, his face inches from Eleonora's ear. "If you give her that much access, she might drain it and run," he whispered harshly. "The test will be ruined."

Eleonora let out a dry, mocking laugh.

"If she runs because of a piece of plastic, then your test was right," she whispered back. "Let's see what she does."

Dewitt was trapped. Checkmate.

If he fought harder, he would look guilty. He clenched his hands into tight fists. The veins on the back of his hands bulged against his skin.

He slowly stood up straight. He stared down at Frieda's hands.

Frieda was completely overwhelmed. She looked at the heavy black card, then up at Dewitt.

His eyes were dark, frantic. She could see the raw panic bleeding through his cold facade. He was silently begging her not to take it.

Frieda slowly raised her hand.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached out.

Dewitt stopped breathing. The walls of the apartment felt like they were closing in on him. His entire empire, his revenge, his carefully constructed lie, was about to burn to the ground.