Chapter 3 - SUNSHINE AND DELUSION
While the autumn rain pelted the glass in Boulder, the sun beamed down mercilessly on the white sands of Miami Beach.
Grant sat under the pristine white canopy of an exclusive South Beach resort cabana, wearing designer sunglasses and a crisp linen shirt. A tall glass of iced champagne rested on the teakwood table beside him, condensation dripping down the crystal.
Across from him sat his mother, Elaine, flipping through a glossy fashion magazine with an air of absolute triumph.
“I still can’t believe you finally put your foot down, Grant,” Elaine purred, adjusting her oversized sunglasses. “That girl needed a reality check. For years, she acted like she was doing us a favor by letting us stay in her guest rooms during the holidays. Please. A house is only as good as the man who rules it.”
Grant smiled, leaning back into the plush cushions. He took a slow sip of champagne, feeling the intoxicating rush of unearned power.
“Lena’s predictable, Mom,” Grant said, his voice dripping with condescension. “She thinks her money and her little company make her untouchable. But she’s soft now. She has a three-day-old baby. She’s exhausted, hormonal, and dependent. Changing the door codes was the only way to remind her who actually holds the leverage.”
“And that sister of hers, Nora? Always poking her nose where it doesn’t belong,” Elaine scoffed. “Good luck to them trying to find a locksmith in Boulder on a rainy night. By the time Lena comes to her senses, she’ll be begging you to let her back in—on our terms.”
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“Exactly,” Grant agreed, checking his phone screen. There were no missed calls from Lena. To him, that silence wasn't a warning; it was total surrender. “She’s sitting in a hotel room somewhere right now, crying, realizing she can’t survive without me. When we fly back on Thursday, she’ll be waiting at the door with an apology.”
He raised his glass toward the ocean horizon, utterly blind to the legal tempest brewing twelve hundred miles away.
