Chapter 1 - The Arrival Under the Umbrellas
The rain drummed heavily against the taut nylon canopy above the entrance of the Halcyon Grand Hotel.
My bruised knuckles were swollen, crimson indentations marking where Sloane’s stiletto heel had driven my skin into the wet concrete.
I leaned heavily against the young security guard, feeling another sharp contraction ripple across my lower abdomen.
Grant’s immaculate composure cracked the instant his eyes met the woman emerging from the lead black sedan.
Evelyn Mercer, his sixty-five-year-old mother and the true legal trustee of the Mercer Global Foundation, stepped into the light.
She wore a charcoal tailored coat, her silver hair styled in an elegant chignon, her face as hard and cold as carved granite.
Beside her, two imposing men in dark federal suits stepped out of the second vehicle, holding leather folios.
Out of the third car stepped Arthur Vance, Chicago's most feared civil rights and corporate litigation attorney.
Grant took an involuntary step backward, his hand instantly falling away from Sloane Avery's silk-clad waist.
"Mother," Grant managed to say, his voice losing its polished, patronizing cadence.
"What are you doing here? You told the committee you were resting at the Martha's Vineyard estate."
Evelyn didn't look at her son.
She walked with deliberate, measured steps across the wet carpet beneath the awning, her sharp gaze fixing straight upon my bleeding hand.
She looked at my drenched burgundy maternity gown, the mud clinging to the hem, and the sheer agony carved across my pale face.
"Get your hands away from her, Grant," Evelyn commanded, her voice slicing through the rain like a straight razor.
"Mother, Claire is having an emotional breakdown," Grant stammered, stepping forward with his practiced, charming smile.
"She caused a scene outside the venue. Sloane was merely trying to keep her from falling."
Sloane quickly composed her expression, stepping into the light with a fragile, innocent pout.
"Mrs. Mercer, it was awful," Sloane whimpered, touching her diamond earrings.
"Claire charged at me on the sidewalk. She fell because she was erratic, and Grant was trying to protect our guests from a scandal."
Evelyn stopped three inches from Sloane, her icy blue eyes dropping down to the pointed toe of Sloane's red patent-leather stiletto.
A smear of fresh blood was visibly transferred onto the crimson leather of the shoe.
"Did my daughter-in-law's hand attack your heel, Miss Avery?" Evelyn asked in a whisper so cold it made the surrounding socialites hold their breath.
Sloane’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
"Arthur," Evelyn said, without turning her head.
"Call the ambulance from Northwestern Memorial. Have the chief of obstetrics meet us in the private emergency pavilion."
"Already dispatched, Mrs. Mercer," Arthur Vance answered, clicking off his secure phone.
"And have Detective Miller seize the hotel's exterior surveillance hard drives before someone accidentally erases the footage," Evelyn added calmly.
Grant’s face turned an ashen shade of gray, the panic finally breaking through his arrogant facade.
"Mother, this is a family matter!" Grant protested, his voice rising in desperate frustration.
"We have four hundred donors waiting inside for my keynote speech!"
May you like
"There will be no speech from you tonight, Grant," Evelyn said, turning to face him fully.
"Because as of twenty minutes ago, the board of trustees removed you from every executive committee in this city."
