Most painfully, she had protected him.
Not socially.
Financially.
Every time Holloway Meridian failed, Bellamy Holdings had quietly prevented disaster.
Not because Grant deserved it.
Because Seraphina had loved him.
She looked down at the dishes.
Then she pulled off the second glove.
The marriage ended before she reached the wine cellar.
Downstairs, beyond racks of Bordeaux and Burgundy, Seraphina pressed her fingers against a hidden security panel.
Eight digits.
A soft click.
A section of oak shelving released.
Behind it stood a steel door.
Seraphina stepped inside.
The room beyond belonged to a different woman.
Four encrypted screens illuminated the walls.
Legal binders filled custom cabinets.
Real-time financial dashboards showed dozens of Bellamy Holdings subsidiaries.
A secure communications terminal blinked quietly beside a long black desk.
Seraphina sat.
For the first time that evening, her posture changed.
Her shoulders straightened.
Her eyes sharpened.
The woman who had picked porcelain from the kitchen floor disappeared.
