I woke up in the hospital and found a man in a charcoal suit sitting beside my bed with his head bowed over his clasped hands. When I asked politely, “Excuse me, sir, am I supposed to interview for the nanny position at your house today?” he looked up so fast that the color drained from his face.
Chapter 3
The ballroom at the St. Regis was filled with investors, executives, politicians, reporters, and people who probably had assistants dedicated to remembering other people’s names.
Vincent stood on the raised stage near the front.
Willow stood beside him.
They looked perfect together.
The ballroom doors opened.
I walked down the center aisle.
Conversation faded in waves.
I heard whispers.
“Is that Sophia?”
“I thought she was hospitalized.”
“That’s Eleanor Lancaster’s sapphire.”
Vincent saw me.
His champagne glass tilted.
Wine spilled over his hand.
Willow followed his stare.
Her expression was worth the cost of the dress she was wearing.
I climbed the steps.
“Good evening, Vincent.”
His face had gone white.
“What are you doing here?”
I looked at Willow.
“Enjoying my party?”
She recovered quickly.
“Sophia, you shouldn’t be here. You need rest.”
“My doctors disagree.”
Vincent reached for my arm.
I looked at his hand.
“Don’t.”
Something in my voice stopped him.
“You’re creating a scene,” he whispered.
“No. I think the scene existed before I arrived.”
I picked up the microphone from the podium.
“Good evening.”
The room quieted.
“My memory has been unreliable lately.”
A murmur went through the crowd.
“There are some things I’ve forgotten.”
I looked at Vincent.
“For example, I forgot I own this company.”
Nervous laughter spread through the ballroom.
Vincent stepped toward me.
“Sophia—”
“Arthur?”
Arthur Pendleton appeared from the crowd and handed Vincent a stack of documents.
Vincent stared at the first page.
“What is this?”
I answered into the microphone.
“Revocation of your proxy voting authority.”
The room went silent.
“As of five o’clock this evening, Vincent Hayes no longer has authority over the Lancaster Family Trust. His position as acting chief executive has also been suspended pending a forensic audit.”
Reporters began raising phones.
Vincent looked at Arthur.
“You can’t do this.”
Arthur smiled pleasantly.
“She can.”
I continued.
“Executive accounts have been frozen. Capital transfers are suspended. Employee salaries and normal operations will continue.”
That distinction mattered to me.
Hundreds of people worked for the company.
They had done nothing wrong.
Vincent looked furious.
“I built this business.”
“You managed my family’s business.”
“I saved it after your father died.”
“Then the audit should prove that.”
His face changed.
Willow whispered, “Vincent.”
He ignored her.
I stepped closer.
“You thought my memory loss made me helpless.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You put me in the nanny’s room.”
“You chose—”
“I chose it because nobody told me I owned the house.”
People close enough to hear began murmuring.
I lowered my voice.
“You told the board I was institutionalized in Switzerland.”
His jaw tightened.
“That’s not what—”
“You needed my signature for trust funds. You needed me frightened enough to give it to you.”
“Sophia, listen.”
“No.”
For seven years, apparently, I had listened.
I reached into my clutch.
“These are divorce papers.”
Willow gasped.
I placed them against Vincent’s chest.
“You have forty-eight hours to move out of my house.”
“Sophia.”
“And Willow?”
She stiffened.
“You should start packing too.”
Her eyes filled instantly.
“Vincent, say something.”
He turned on her.
“Not now.”
The tenderness vanished from his voice.
That was when Willow finally understood.
She had believed she was the prize.
She had only been useful.
Vincent lowered his voice.
“Don’t humiliate me in front of these people.”
I stared at him.
The irony was almost elegant.
“You spent years humiliating me in private.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“No.”
I stepped back.
“It isn’t.”
I handed the microphone to Arthur and walked off the stage.
For the first time since waking in the hospital, I knew exactly where I was going.
