The gates swung open. As we drove up the long, winding driveway lined with manicured oak trees, I could see the caterers’ vans parked near the side entrance. Victoria was indeed hosting her weekly charity committee luncheon.
“Stay here in the car with Marcus for just a moment,” I told Elena as we parked. “I will come get you when it’s done.”
I walked up the front steps and opened the heavy mahogany doors. The foyer echoed with the sound of clinking champagne flutes and the shrill laughter of wealthy socialites drifting from the sunroom. I walked calmly toward the noise.
There were about fifteen women seated around my custom dining table, picking at delicate salads and sipping mimosas. At the head of the table sat Victoria, draped in a designer silk dress, holding court like a queen in her castle.
She was mid-laugh when she saw me standing in the doorway. The color instantly drained from her face, leaving her looking like a ghost. Her champagne flute froze in mid-air.
“Raymond!” she gasped, standing up so quickly her chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor. “Darling! You… you’re home early! We didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
The rest of the women fell silent, sensing the sudden, drastic drop in the room’s temperature.
“Clearly,” I said, my voice echoing off the high ceilings. I walked slowly into the room, my eyes locked dead on hers. “I imagine it takes a lot of energy to host a party right after you finish throwing my grandson out onto the street.”
A collective gasp swept through the room. Several of Victoria’s friends exchanged horrified glances. Victoria’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
“Raymond, please, not in front of the guests,” she hissed, trying to close the distance between us to grab my arm. “You don’t understand.
That girl was taking advantage of you. She was a leech. I was protecting our family—”
“My family,” I interrupted, my voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet decibel. “Liam was my family. Leo is my family. You are a guest in this house, Victoria. And as of right now, your stay is over.”
“You can’t be serious,” she laughed nervously, looking at her friends for support. Nobody made a sound. “We’re married, Raymond. Half of this is mine.”
I pulled out my phone and tapped the screen. “I just sent an email to my lawyers, initiating the divorce proceedings based on the ironclad prenup you signed ten years ago. It states very clearly that in the event of a separation, you vacate my primary residence immediately. I’ve also canceled your supplementary black cards. You have exactly one hour to pack whatever fits into your car and leave.”
“Raymond! You can’t do this to me!” she screamed, dropping the aristocratic facade entirely. Her face turned an ugly shade of red. “Over that pathetic little nurse?”
“Over my son’s legacy,” I corrected her coldly. “Fifty-five minutes, Victoria.”
