Chapter 3: Everything She Brought With Her
The socialite's name was Vivienne Ashcroft.
Charlotte had known that before she walked through the door.
Vivienne was thirty-four, twice divorced, and had spent the last two years positioning herself as the face of the Solmere brand — attending charity galas, cutting ribbons at new properties, giving interviews in which she described her "vision" for the empire's future.
She wore the Solmere name like a piece of jewelry she had picked up at an estate sale and never intended to return.
She was also the woman who had signed Charlotte's mother's death certificate as next of kin.
Charlotte had found that document four months ago, buried inside a filing box she'd retrieved from a storage unit in New Jersey — the same unit her mother's attorney had quietly transferred out of the family's name three weeks after the funeral.
"You need to put that paper down," Charlotte said now, her voice still low.
Vivienne's grip tightened on the document.
"This is a forgery."
"It isn't."
"I'll have my lawyers here in twenty minutes."
"Call them," Charlotte said.
"They'll want to see what else I brought."
She reached into her bag and set a second envelope on the concierge desk.
Then a third.
Then a slim USB drive, which she placed on top of the stack without a word.
Vivienne stared at the pile.
The older man in the dark suit — his name was Gerald Foss, and he had served as the Solmere's head of legal affairs for nineteen years — took one step closer.
His eyes hadn't left Charlotte's face since the moment she stood up.
"Miss Vale," he said carefully.
"How long have you been back?"
"Long enough."
"Gerald." Vivienne's voice cracked like a whip.
"Do not speak to her."
He looked at Vivienne.
Then he looked back at Charlotte.
He didn't move away.
"The ownership transfer," Charlotte said to him directly.
"The one dated eleven days after my mother's funeral.
Walk me through how that happened."
Gerald's jaw tightened.
"That isn't something I can discuss in the lobby."
"Then let's go upstairs." Charlotte picked up the envelopes and the drive.
"I believe I still have an office on the fourteenth floor.
Unless someone redecorated that too."
Vivienne stepped directly into her path.
"You are not going anywhere in this building," she said.
Her voice had dropped, but the lobby was so quiet that every word carried.
"I don't know what game you think you're playing, but you have no authority here.
You have no standing.
You walked in off the street in a tank top and you think you can just —"
"Vivienne."
The word came from behind her.
A younger man in a gray suit had appeared near the elevator bank.
He was perhaps forty, with the kind of careful stillness that suggested he had been listening for longer than anyone realized.
Vivienne turned.
"Marcus, tell her —"
"Stop talking," he said.
She blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"I said stop." Marcus walked toward the concierge desk.
He didn't look at Vivienne again.
He looked at Charlotte, and something in his expression was not surprise.
It was closer to relief.
"Miss Vale.
My name is Marcus Hale.
I'm the Solmere's current chief operating officer." He paused.
"I've been waiting for you to come back for fourteen months."
The lobby didn't make a sound.
Vivienne's face went the color of old ash.
"Marcus," she said slowly.
"What did you just say?"
He finally looked at her.
"I said I've been waiting." He reached into his jacket and produced his own envelope.
May you like
He set it on the desk beside Charlotte's stack.
"And I kept records."
