Chapter 234

Cailin walked into the dining hall alone. Her heels struck the marble floor in sharp, measured clicks that echoed through the cavernous silence. She wore a black trench coat belted tightly at the waist, her posture rigid.

Five years ago, she would have been trembling. She would have been anxious about using the wrong fork.

Tonight, she simply wanted to get this over with.

Amerigo Holloway sat at the head of the table — a king enthroned in mahogany. Preston sat to his right, looking like a bloated toad. Hilliard sat opposite him, his face unreadable.

“You’re late,” Amerigo rasped, without looking up from his soup.

“I didn’t realize I was on a schedule,” Cailin said. She didn’t sit. She stood at the foot of the table with both hands gripping the back of a chair. “You wanted to see me.”

“Sit,” Amerigo commanded, pointing a bony finger at the empty chair beside Hilliard.

Cailin hesitated, then pulled the chair out and sat, keeping a deliberate foot of distance between herself and Hilliard. She didn’t look at him.

“I hear you’re in something of a bind,” Amerigo said, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin. “Attempted murder. Nasty business.”

“It’s a lie,” Cailin said.

“Truth doesn’t matter in court, girl. Perception matters,” Preston sneered. “And right now, you look like a scorned ex-wife who tried to kill the new fiancée.”

“I can make it go away,” Amerigo cut in. His eyes — sharp beneath the cloud of age — locked onto hers. “Preston will pull the funding. The lawsuit will be dropped. Charla will be silenced.”

“What’s the price?” Cailin asked. She knew there was always a price.

Amerigo leaned forward. The candlelight carved deep shadows into his face. “The children,” he said. “All three of them.”

Cailin felt her heart stop.

“Give us the children,” he said, his voice unhurried and calm. “Sign over full custody to Hilliard. We will raise them. The Holloway name, the legacy — it belongs to them. And they belong here.”

Hilliard’s hand came down hard on the table. “Grandfather! That was not the arrangement!”

“Quiet, boy,” Amerigo said sharply. He turned back to Cailin. “You leave New York. You go back to whatever corner of Europe you’ve been hiding in. We raise the girl and her brothers as Holloways. They receive the trust funds, the education, the legacy. You receive your freedom.”

Cailin looked at the old man. She looked at Preston, who was smirking. She looked at Hilliard, who appeared furious and paralyzed in equal measure.

A cold, white-hot rage bloomed slowly in her chest.

“You think,” Cailin said, her voice trembling with suppressed fury, “that you can buy my children?”

“They are Holloways,” Amerigo said. “They belong here.”

“They belong with their mother!” Cailin rose to her feet, her chair shrieking against the marble floor. “Five years ago, you treated me like a broodmare. Now you want the foals? You make me sick.”

“Sit down, Cailin,” Hilliard said, reaching for her arm. “He’s testing you. Don’t take the bait.”

“Don’t touch me!” She slapped his hand away. “You’re all the same. You think people are assets. You think blood is a currency.”