Chapter 12

The elegant teacup shattered against the wall, porcelain fragments scattering across Melanie's living room floor. Evelyn didn't flinch, merely arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow as she rubbed her swollen belly.

"That was Limoges, Melanie. Worth more than your monthly rent, I'd imagine."

"I don't give a damn about the cup!" Melanie hissed, her face contorted with fury. "You were supposed to play the part! 'I'm so sorry, Adaline. It was a mistake. I was weak.' That's all you had to say!"

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "I couldn't do it. The moment I saw her face in that courtroom, looking all righteous and wounded... I just couldn't stomach it."

"Couldn't stomach it?" Melanie's voice rose dangerously. "This was the plan! Get her to forgive Michael, bring her back into the fold, and then we'd all have access to what we need!"

Michael emerged from the kitchen, a tumbler of whiskey in hand. He looked exhausted, his suit jacket discarded, tie loosened. "It's over, Melanie. She's not coming back. We need to find another way."

"Another way?" Melanie sputtered. "There is no other way! She's the only one who can access it, and she doesn't even know what she has!"

"Keep your voice down," Michael snapped, glancing toward the window. "The neighbors don't need to hear our business."

Evelyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I still don't understand why we can't just tell her. Lie about what's at stake."

"Because she'd never agree," Melanie said bitterly. "Not if she knew what it was really for. My daughter has an unfortunate moral compass—inherited from her father." She spat the last word like it tasted foul.

"Well, we need a new plan," Michael said, draining his glass. "I've been promoted at Westfield Corp. Executive Vice President now. I have resources, connections. Maybe there's another approach."

"Your promotion doesn't change anything," Melanie argued. "Without Adaline, we have nothing. No access, no codes, no way in."

"Then we find her," Michael said simply. "We find out where she's hiding, who she's with, and we apply pressure. Everyone has a breaking point."

"A man picked her up from the courthouse," Evelyn mentioned. "Dressed too well for a regular chauffeur. Martin or Marcus, something like that."

"A man?" Melanie's eyes narrowed. " her new lover?"

"Does it matter?" Evelyn retorted. "The point is, we lost her. And I, for one, am tired of this charade. Michael's making real money now at Westfield. Maybe we should just forget about it and move on."

"Move on?" Melanie laughed bitterly. "After everything I've invested? After all the years I've spent positioning Adaline for this moment? No. We're not giving up."

"Then what do you suggest?" Michael asked coldly.

Melanie's lips curled into a twisted smile. "I still have leverage. Mr. Thomas has been asking about her for years. Willing to pay handsomely for an introduction."

Michael's face darkened. "That old lecher? He must be seventy by now."

"Seventy-two," Melanie corrected. "And still one of the wealthiest men in the state. With no heirs."

"And how exactly does threatening to sell your daughter to a geriatric millionaire help our situation?" Evelyn asked dryly.

"It gives us control," Melanie explained. "I'll find out who this her new lover, and then I'll make sure Adaline understands her options: cooperate with us or face the consequences."

"I could help with that," Michael said slowly. "Westfield has a sophisticated security system, including some advanced tracking software. I could get the head of security to trace her new IP address, find out where she's staying and who she's with."

"Why would you bother?" Evelyn asked, eyeing him suspiciously. "I thought we were moving on."

Michael's jaw tightened. "Because she humiliated me in court. Because she doesn't deserve happiness after what she did."

Evelyn's lips curled into a satisfied smirk. "That's what she gets for touching my fiancé."

Michael's hand found Evelyn's, his fingers intertwining with hers. "We're announcing our engagement next week. Once the divorce paperwork is finalized."

"How touching," Melanie said dryly. "Well, don't let me interfere with your celebration. Just get me that information, and I'll handle Adaline."

Michael laughed, his eyes sweeping over Melanie's face with undisguised contempt. "You know, Melanie, you're getting older by the day, and still so hungry for money. It's almost impressive how greed never ages."

Melanie's face hardened. "Easy for you to say when you've got a fresh promotion and a younger model warming your bed. Some of us have to secure our futures by whatever means necessary."

"Speaking of futures," Michael replied, straightening his tie, "Westfield is having a party soon. The boss's daughter is coming back from Paris, and it's going to be quite the event." He turned to Evelyn with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I need to go shopping for a proper suit. And it'll be the perfect opportunity to introduce my fiancée to the Westfields."

Evelyn brightened. "When is it? I'll need a new dress—something that shows off the baby bump tastefully."

"Next week," Michael said. "It's exclusive. Only the company's top executives and their families." He shot a smug glance at Melanie. "We'll be sending out invitations to our wedding at the event. Nothing like a captive audience of the city's elite."

Melanie's eyes narrowed, her mind already turning. "Who handles the catering for these Westfield events? I imagine it's quite prestigious."

Michael looked at her with suspicion. "I don't know yet. But I'm sure it's a very high-end. Why?"

"I've heard they pay their staff exceptionally well," Melanie said casually. "Even the cleaners make more than most entry-level positions elsewhere. I could use the extra money, and it would give me access to the party."

Michael burst into laughter, almost spilling his drink. "You? Working as a caterer? The last time you cooked was for Adaline and my engagement party. That salmon mousse had half the guests rushing to the bathroom."

"That was deliberate," Melanie sniffed. "I never approved of the match."

"Clearly," Evelyn muttered, absently stroking her belly.

Michael studied Melanie's face, his amusement fading as he recognized the determination in her eyes. "You're serious about this."

"Dead serious. I need to be at that party."

Michael sighed, swirling the remaining whiskey in his glass. "Fine. I suppose I could pull some strings, get you on the catering staff. Executive Vice Presidents have certain privileges." His eyes hardened. "But no scenes, Melanie. This is my career we're talking about."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Melanie replied with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'll be the picture of discretion. Just another faceless server in the background."

"With a front-row seat to our announcement," Evelyn added with a smirk.

"And access to the Westfield family," Melanie said quietly, more to herself than to them. "Including valuable information that might help us locate Adaline."

Michael set down his empty glass with a sharp click against the coffee table. "Just remember who got you in. You owe me for this."

"I think we all owe each other at this point," Melanie replied coldly. "What's one more debt between conspirators?"