Chapter 1 - REMOVE MY NAME
Eleanor’s palm struck my cheek before I saw her hand rise.
The slap turned my head sideways. Her rings caught my skin, and the room tilted beneath the sharp flash of pain.
“How dare you challenge me in my son’s home!”
She shoved me.
My heels slid across the polished marble. I crashed beside the coffee table, knocking two ceramic planters from their stands. They shattered around my body, covering my satin blouse with soil and broken white pieces.
I raised both arms over my head.
Eleanor lifted one heel above me.
On the sofa, her friend Diane Hollis held up a smartphone and laughed.
“Teach her some respect.”
I tried to crawl away.
Eleanor’s fingers twisted into my hair and dragged my head backward.
“Stop—please, you’re hurting me!”
The apartment door opened.
Audrey Collins entered carrying a sealed brown ownership folder against her blazer.
She froze.
Then she dropped the folder and crossed the room.
Audrey tore Eleanor’s hand from my hair. When Eleanor swung toward her, Audrey struck her once across the face and forced her away from me.
Eleanor fell beside the overturned planter.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” Audrey shouted.
Eleanor clutched her chest, her expression changing from fury to wounded innocence.
“She fell by herself—I was trying to save her!”
Diane lowered her phone.
I found mine beneath the spilled soil. The screen had cracked, but it still glowed.
Audrey knelt beside me.
“Clara, are you dizzy?”
“Yes.”
“Can you move your neck?”
“I think so.”
A metallic taste filled my mouth. My cheek burned.
I looked at the ownership folder near the door. Its seal had split when it hit the floor. Inside were deeds, company charts, and pages carrying my name in places I had never seen it.
Eleanor followed my gaze.
For the first time, fear entered her face.
I gripped my phone.
“Call 911—and remove everything with my name on it.”
Audrey did not ask what I meant.
She reached for her own phone and called emergency services.
Diane moved toward the ownership folder.
Audrey blocked her with one arm.
“Do not touch that.”
The apartment’s front lock clicked.
Julian entered in his suit, took in the broken planters, his mother on the floor, and me bleeding through my hairline.
He did not ask whether I was hurt.
He looked at the open folder.
“What did you show her?”
Eleanor whispered, “Not enough.”
Police sirens rose beneath the apartment windows.
May you like
Julian closed the door behind him and said quietly:
“Clara, whatever Audrey told you, those buildings have always belonged to you.”
