Chapter 3 - The Grandmother’s Ghost
The weekend arrived with a deceptive warmth,
the sun shining over the garden where the christening party would be held.
I spent my days at the restaurant,
hiding in the kitchen,
perfecting a menu that the guests would never forget.
Every dish was a memory,
every flavor a reminder of what had been stolen.
But my mind was constantly drifting back to my grandmother,
Marguerite.
She had been a woman of iron wrapped in silk,
the founder of the First Star and the architect of our family's fortune.
I remembered her sitting in her garden,
tucking a white peony behind my ear.
"Never let them see your cards,
Scarlet,"
she had whispered,
her eyes sharp and knowing.
"The world is full of men who want to own the sun,
but they don't know how to handle the heat."
I realized now that the bracelet wasn't just a gift;
it was a test.
I took the bracelet to a jeweler I trusted,
an old man who had served my grandmother for fifty years.
"Ah,
the First Star,"
he murmured,
looking at the piece through his loupe.
"Did she ever show you the hidden mechanism?"
My heart skipped a beat.
"Hidden mechanism?"
He pressed a tiny,
almost invisible indentation near the clasp.
With a soft click,
the gold band split slightly,
revealing a micro-compartment inside.
Tucked into the space was a small,
silver-plated USB drive and a handwritten note.
For when the peonies wilt,
the note read.
I hurried back to my office and plugged the drive into my computer.
Files appeared,
one after another,
dated back twenty years.
It was a dossier on Weston’s father,
a man who had been my grandmother’s business rival.
He had tried to ruin her,
and when he failed,
he had sent his son to marry her granddaughter.
The betrayal hadn't started three years ago.
It had been planned since the day I met Weston in college.
He was a weapon sent to dismantle my inheritance from the inside out.
And my parents?
The files showed they were in debt to Weston’s father,
a debt that could only be paid by handing over the Cumberland property.
I sat in the darkness of the office,
the blue light of the screen reflecting in my eyes.
I wasn't just fighting for my marriage or my house.
I was fighting a war that had started before I was born.
The "gift" I was preparing for the party needed to be bigger.
It needed to be absolute.
I called the firm that handled the Cumberland land lease.
"This is Scarlet Marguerite,"
I said,
my voice vibrating with power.
"I wish to exercise the 'Scorched Earth' clause in the lease agreement."
There was a pause on the other end.
"Are you sure,
Ms. Marguerite?
That will mean the immediate demolition of all structures on the property at the owner's expense."
I looked at the picture of Weston and Hadley on my desk and swept it into the trash.
"I’m very sure,"
I said.
May you like
"If I can't have the house,
no one will."
