Russell was not finished. “One more thing. The Armitage estate in Lake Forest. Their mansion. According to the records, your father owned that property. The Armitages were tenants. Their lease expired months ago. They are occupying it illegally.”
The irony tasted like something divine. Vivienne Armitage had called me worthless while living under my roof.
“And something else,” Russell said softly. “Vivienne Armitage has been embezzling funds from the Armitage Foundation for more than a decade. Your father discovered irregularities before his death. I have the proof.”
Cold fire cracked through my veins.
I whispered, “I want my daughter back.”
“Then you will have her,” Russell promised.
Over the next six weeks, I rebuilt myself. I moved into a penthouse overlooking Lake Michigan with floor-to-ceiling windows that reflected a woman I barely recognized: sharper, stronger, forged like steel.
I met with Maureen Kingsley, a renowned family attorney known for dismantling corrupt legacies like hers was a hobby. When she reviewed my evidence, her smile was predatory.
“We are going to burn them legally. Custody hearing first. Criminal charges next. And public exposure for dessert.”
I trained my body back to health. I learned the structure of my holdings. I met with financial advisors, security teams, media strategists. I purchased clothing that fit the woman I was becoming. I attended supervised visits with my daughter. The first time I held her again, her tiny fingers curled around mine like an anchor that held me to the earth.
I named her again in my heart. Her new name was Maribel. A name that meant beautiful sea. A name that meant rebirth.
Six weeks later, the Armitages hosted a lavish charity gala at the Lake Forest mansion. The theme was “New Beginnings”. The irony was a gift from fate.
I arrived with Russell and Maureen at my side. I wore a navy velvet suit that draped across my body like armor. Security tried to block me, but Russell held up the property deed.
“This residence belongs to Ms. Celina Rhodes. You are impeding the owner. Stand aside.”
Inside, champagne bubbles floated through the air. The city’s elite glittered like constellations. Bennett stood on stage, ready to give a speech beside the woman in the mink coat whose name I now knew was Talia Whitmore.
Vivienne’s face froze when she saw me. “You. How dare you show your face.”