Chapter 3 - Enter Savannah Carter
Aunt Vivian’s arrival brought an immediate wave of condescension into the room. Flaunting her bright pink coat and her absolute confidence in the purchasing power of elite wealth, she marched right up to Margaret Delaney, assuming that corporate greed would naturally side with the highest bidder. She dismissed me as the "Morgan girl" who belonged to a struggling, irrelevant branch of society, expecting Margaret to instantly accept her triple-rate offer and toss my fully paid contract into the trash.
Margaret, however, remained entirely unimpressed. Instead of folding under the pressure of the formidable Wellington name, Margaret calmly announced that she had called her daughter to handle the venue's administrative decisions. The glass doors swung open once more, revealing a woman in her early thirties carrying a sleek leather clipboard, dressed in a sharp blazer with a posture of absolute authority.
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When Margaret introduced her daughter as Savannah Carter, the pieces of the puzzle clicked violently into place in my mind. Savannah was Ethan’s older sister—the fierce, spreadsheet-wielding protector who had guided him through his toughest years.
Vivian blinked, momentarily thrown off by the name, before recovering her snobbery and demanding to know why a "family of paramedics and art teachers" was interfering with high-society business. Savannah didn't flinch. Her eyes locked onto my cousin Chloe, then shifted sharply to Vivian, radiating the exact same unshakeable, protective grit that I loved so much about Ethan. The tables had turned completely, and the corporate playground Vivian thought she owned had just become her worst nightmare.
