Chapter 655
[ 628 words ]
The Old Schultz Family Estate.
The atmosphere in the living room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Tristan Schultz sat at the head of the room, stern and silent. Next to him, his new wife Mona Haig perched stiffly, her son Yale Schultz by her side, glancing between the adults with a wary look.
Yvonne Quinn, cool as ever, was sprawled on the sofa, lazily painting her nails a bold red. The bottle of nail polish looked almost out of place among the old family portraits and stuffy antiques.
Nobody spoke at first. After Yvonne had laid out her reason for coming, the tension in the room spiked-especially on Mona’s face, which had gone from chilly to downright stormy.
Tristan checked his watch. One in the morning. He let out a sigh.
“It’s late, Ms. Quinn,” he said, turning to the butler. “Get a guest room ready, would you?”
But Yvonne barely glanced up, not missing a beat with her nails. “Don’t bother, I’m not staying the night. What I need is a straight answer, Dad. When are you going to hand it over?”
The word “Dad” rolled off her tongue like it belonged there, but the look on everyone else’s face said it most definitely did not. Tristan’s jaw tightened. Mona and Yale looked like they’d bitten into a lemon.
Yvonne had just dropped a bombshell-she and Xander had gotten married, and not exactly willingly. She claimed she’d been tricked, even threatened, into signing
the papers.
And now? She’d shown up at the Schultz estate, wedding certificate in one hand and-of all things-a ledger in the other. She wanted what she felt was rightfully hers: the dowry and assets Xander’s late mother had brought into the family, all listed out in meticulous detail.
She’d called it “a matter of tradition,” but everyone in the room knew the score. Yvonne and Xander had only just gotten hitched, and here she was, demanding her share of the pie.
The directness of her “When are you giving me what’s mine?” left no room for argument.
Before Tristan could answer, Mona snapped, her voice tight. “Is this really what Xander wants?”
She was trying hard to maintain the calm dignity of a stepmother, but her grip on that role was slipping fast. You could almost hear her grinding her teeth.
Yvonne’s hand slipped, and she
smeared the polish. With a
frustrated huff, she smacked the
brush down on the coffee table, red paint splattering like a warning.
Tristan tensed. Mona and Yale froze.
The outburst looked like a fit over a manicure gone wrong, but everyone knew it was aimed squarely at Mona.
Mona tried to recover. “Ms. Quinn, what’s that supposed to mean?”
Yvonne arched an eyebrow. “If I’m not mistaken, you should be calling me Mrs. Schultz, right?”
“You-” Mona started, but Yvonne cut her off with a cool stare.
“Remind me again, Mona, what’s your official status in this family? Because fast I checked, Tristan never gave you a wedding. You moveðin after Xander’s mom passed, and everyone just assumed you were the lady of the house. But what I think is what matters here.”
Mona’s face went red, then white, then red again.
Yvonne turned to Tristan. “Dad.”
Mona’s glare could have melted steel. She was willing Tristan to declare her the true Mrs. Schultz, but he only narrowed his eyes, hawklike, at Yvonne.
“And where’s Xander?” he demanded.
Yvonne shrugged. “Dropped me off here and left. Said he had to pick up some guy named Mervin Burton.”
She planted her feet on the floor and looked Tristan dead in the eye. “Given everything the Quinns and the Schultzes have been through, you
owe me, Dad. Xander’s been at odds with my brother for years, and now he’s forced me into this marriage. I want what’s fair, and I want it now.”
She leaned in, voice sharp as a knife. “Compensation. I expect it.”
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