"We've weathered thirty years of storms together. I thought you'd understand."
"We fought our way here through mockery and doubt. And now I'm nearly sixty with no heir of my own."
"Stacy is thirty-two years younger than me. Sweet. Considerate. She knows her position is... delicate. She's never once complained, never demanded anything. All she wants is to give us a worthy child—to repay our kindness." He spread his hands, the picture of reasonableness. "What has she done wrong?"
I kept my voice level. Barely.
"So that entitles you to hand her my company?"
Perhaps Duke saw the sorrow pooling in my eyes. He sighed, his tone softening.
"Gertrude, I know I've wronged you. But I'm doing this for the child."
"Stacy's position is already... delicate. And she's pregnant. Without shares to her name, how is she supposed to hold her head up in high society? Our child would be whispered about too."
"Stacy and I have already discussed it. If you're willing, you can travel overseas—go wherever you like. If you'd rather stay with the company, we can arrange a quiet position for you. Something comfortable. You can retire in peace. We certainly won't leave you wanting for money. Just ask, and it's yours. We won't mistreat you."
"Haven't you noticed how smoothly business has been going these past six months? The master said it himself—Stacy's child is a lucky heir, destined to bring glory to the Stephens name."
I laughed. It tasted like vinegar.
A grown man believing this nonsense. A lucky heir?
Why not call it what it really was—a bastard born of betrayal. But of course, he'd spin it into something gilded.
And apparently, I now needed their permission to spend money I'd earned myself.
"Duke, don't you find this shameful? Since when do mistresses and gold-diggers get to strut in and steal the nest?"
"A lucky heir? As if the company was hemorrhaging money before this child existed?"
His expression darkened. Finally, the words spilled out.
"What would you know about it? You can't even bear children. If you could, do you think I would've let Stacy carry my heir?"
"We're doing this for your own good. Don't be ungrateful."
"Think it over carefully. If you can't come around... I have no problem replacing Mrs. Stephens."
The door slammed behind him.
I stared at the trembling frame, then crumpled onto the sofa.
I sat there, hollow, until dawn.
Early the next morning, Victor Whitney called.