Chapter 4 - The Unwelcome Beggar
The room froze as if someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the atmosphere.
Grant’s fingers went slack. He backed away from her chair as if he had just been bitten by a viper. His jaw worked silently, gaping like a fish out of water.
Lydia’s sunglasses fell onto the table with a clatter. “You... what did you say?”
Evelyn stood up. She reached behind her ear, peeled off the adhesive bandage, and tossed it onto the center of the mahogany table. It landed with a soft, dry smack right on top of Grant’s gold pen.
“The surgery worked, Grant,” Evelyn said, her voice steady, icy, and resonant. “I heard every word you said in that Manhattan penthouse. I heard you laugh about how I lost my hearing because of you. I heard Lydia kiss you. And I heard you confess that you knew she hired someone to run me off the road.”
Lydia took an involuntary step backward toward the French doors, her face turning the color of wet chalk. “She’s lying! She’s hallucinating! Grant, do something!”
“Do what, Lydia?” Evelyn asked, turning to face her with blazing eyes. “Call your driver? The one sitting in federal custody right now explaining how you promised him a hundred thousand dollars to make sure I never made it to my engagement party?”
Grant’s face twisted in panic. He tried to compose his features, putting his hands out in a desperate, appeasing gesture. “Evie... baby, listen to me. You’re misinterpreting things. You were under anesthesia, you were confused. What you heard in New York was out of context—”
“Stop talking,” Evelyn snapped. The authority in her voice made the young CEO physically flinch. “You were never a good actor, Grant. For seven years, I made excuses for your mediocrity. I thought you were just busy. I thought you were just stressed. But the truth is, you’re just a parasite who needed my grandfather’s name to keep your father’s failing firm afloat.”
Julian stood up, towering over the conference table. “Mr. Mercer, as of eight o’clock this morning, the Ninth Judicial District Court of Nevada issued an emergency injunction freezing all powers of attorney signed by Evelyn Hart under the doctrine of fraudulent inducement. You have no standing here. You have no claim to this land. And you have exactly five minutes to vacate these premises before Sheriff Barnes arrests you for criminal trespass.”
As if on cue, the heavy front door opened, and Sheriff Tom Barnes stepped into the foyer, his hand resting casually on his gun belt, two armed deputies flanking him.
“Morning, Julian. Morning, Miss Hart,” Barnes said with a tipping of his hat. “Trouble?”
Grant looked at the deputies, then at Julian, and finally at Evelyn. The handsome, polished veneer was completely cracked, revealing the terrified coward beneath.
“You’re making a mistake, Evelyn,” Grant hissed, leaning over the table, his voice dropping into a desperate, spiteful whisper. “Without my connections on Wall Street, you can’t mine an ounce of that lithium. The environmental boards will tie you up in court for a decade. You’ll be bankrupt before you break ground!”
“I don't need your Wall Street connections, Grant,” Evelyn replied with an effortless smile. “Because my grandfather didn't leave the development rights to Mercer Capital. He sold a forty-nine percent operating partnership three days before he died.”
May you like
Grant stared. “To who? Who has forty million in liquid cash to back this ranch?”
Julian smiled for the first time—a sharp, wolfish grin. “Cross & Sterling Holdings. Which happens to be my firm, Mr. Mercer. Now, take your mistress and get off Miss Hart’s mountain.”
