Chapter 358
“I will never marry Damon,” Eliza said. “And Dallas has made it clear he doesn’t want me.”
“Men don’t know what they want,” Marilyn waved a hand. “They want power. Dallas is hurting you to prove he has power over you. If you show submission, he will take you back. It’s a dance, Eliza. Stop stepping on his toes.”
“It’s not a dance,” Eliza said, her voice shaking. “It’s abuse. And I’m done with it.”
“Then you are homeless,” Marilyn said simply. “Driver, pull over.”
The car slowed.
“I’m not going back to the estate,” Eliza said. “Take me to the Koch Manor.”
Marilyn raised an eyebrow. “The lion’s den? Why?”
“Gigi is there,” Eliza said. “If anyone can get me into S&D, it’s her.”
𝘞h𝘢𝘁 e𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺o𝗻e і𝗌 𝗋𝘦a𝖽𝗶𝘯𝗴 𝗈ո 𝗴𝘢𝗅𝘯𝗼𝘃𝘦𝘭𝗌.с𝗼𝘮
Marilyn considered this. A slow smile spread across her face. “Gigi Koch. The matriarch. If you get her on your side, that changes the board dynamics entirely.”
She tapped the partition. “Change of plans. The Koch Manor. And wait for her.”
She looked at Eliza with renewed interest. “Maybe you aren’t a bad investment after all. Go weaponize the grandmother, Eliza. It’s the oldest trick in the book.”
Eliza looked out the window as the car merged back into traffic. She felt dirty. She was using Gigi — just like everyone else used everyone else. But she had no choice. She was a soldier without an army, and she needed a general.
The Koch Manor was a fortress of old-world power, its stone façade looking down on the manicured lawns with silent judgment. Eliza had always felt like an intruder here, but today she walked up the grand steps with a desperate sense of purpose.
She hurried past the butler, who tried to stop her. “Ms. Solomon! Mrs. Koch is not receiving guests!”
“I’m not a guest,” Eliza called back, heading for the east wing. “I’m her granddaughter-in-law.”
She reached the doors to the private suites. They were closed, guarded by two household staff members. Inside, she could hear shouting.
“Take it away! It looks like sludge!”
Eliza pushed past the staff and opened the door.
The room was in chaos. A tray of gourmet food had been overturned on the floor. A nurse was on her hands and knees, wiping up green soup.
Gigi Koch was sitting up in a massive four-poster bed, wearing a silk dressing gown that probably cost more than Eliza’s college tuition. Her silver hair was perfectly coiffed, and her eyes were blazing with fury.
“Gigi,” Eliza said softly.
The old woman froze. She turned her head. When she saw Eliza, the anger melted instantly, replaced by a watery vulnerability that broke Eliza’s heart.
“Eliza!” Gigi cried out, extending a trembling hand. “Oh, look at you. You’re skin and bones. Did that idiot grandson of mine starve you too?”
Eliza walked over and took Gigi’s hand. It felt frail, like dry parchment. “I heard you were on a warpath.”
.
.