The Inheritance Trap

The scent of expensive lilies and ozone clung to the foyer of the Sterling penthouse, a sharp, sterile reminder of the gala they had just survived. Elena set her clutch on the marble console, the gold clasp clicking with a finality that echoed in the high-ceilinged space. Across the room, Julian loosened his tie, the motion stripped of any performative grace. The mask of the doting husband had vanished the moment the heavy doors had clicked shut behind them.

"The optics were successful, Elena," Julian said, his voice a low, clinical blade. "Thorne’s allies are already distancing themselves. But public perception is the easy part. You promised me his offshore accounts. I require the access codes now."

Elena didn't blink. She walked toward him, her heels clicking against the floor

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