I hadn’t realized that Celeste, his ever-loyal partner-in-waiting, had been entwined with him all along, hiding in plain sight while I poured everything into his rise.
Being a Frost had never made me incapable of maneuvering through the treacherous corridors of power. I had the cunning to lift him to the pinnacle of our family’s influence, and just as easily, I could tear him down from the heights he now occupied.
Clutching the resignation papers in my hand, I started to leave that suffocating room of deceit, determined to reclaim some control over my own life.
But as soon as I stepped forward, Mr. Webb, the family’s consigliere, materialized before me, a false smile plastered on his face.
“Arwen,” he said, adjusting his glasses with a practiced air of authority, his tone a thin veneer of civility over steel. “No need to rush off just yet. Before stepping down, you’ll need to sign a declaration affirming that none of your actions while under this family’s roof continue to affect our business. You’ll also be required to sign a binding non-compete clause—preventing you from leveraging your connections to steal clients or allies once you leave.”
Not long ago, I had been Sebastian’s partner, respected and feared, my ability to broker alliances earning me the deference of everyone in the room. Mr. Webb had once bowed to me, addressing me as “Mrs. Veylor” with every ounce of calculated reverence. That time had passed. Now, he looked down at me with a smug, self-satisfied grin, as if diminishing me could restore his own sense of power.
I studied his pathetic display and replied, voice cold as steel. “A declaration? A non-compete? And why, exactly, would I ever sign either of them?”
His smile vanished, replaced with a hard, sharp edge. “Because of your dirty little schemes. The family has already shown mercy by not pressing charges. Do not mistake our restraint for weakness.”
I laughed, bitter, sharp, and unrestrained. “Dirty schemes? Evidence? Or are you referring to those conveniently misinterpreted images?”
Celeste sauntered forward, heels clicking on the polished marble floor, her manicured finger jabbed toward my phone. “Isn’t the proof right there in your device? Who knows how many contacts you’ve hoarded? Step out of here, and who’s to say you won’t use them one by one to secure a new alliance?”