Chapter 3

Liam broke up with Victoria three days later.

He didn't tell me the exact process of the split, only sent a text: “Mom, it’s over.”

I asked: “Why?”

He replied: “I looked into her family’s background. It’s not what she claimed.”

I didn't press him. Liam had never been an impulsive boy. If he reached this decision, he must have found something that troubled him.

I hadn’t told him the full truth yet. The time wasn’t right.

But I underestimated the Montgomerys' reaction.

Five days after the breakup, a woman appeared at my door.

In her early sixties, she was wearing a deep purple Dior suit and a jade necklace, her hair styled into a meticulous bun. She was well-groomed, exuding an intense aura.

Two assistants and a bodyguard in a black suit followed her.

The lady of the house―the current Matriarch Montgomery, Arthur’s wife.

In Victoria’s introduction, she was the “highly respected Grandma Montgomery.”

In my memories, her name was Beatrice.

Forty years ago, it was my mother who saved Arthur’s life. At a masked charity gala, a drunken guest fell near the stairs in the dark ballroom, and my mother helped him up. That night, Arthur gave my mother a custom-made necklace as a token of gratitude―a platinum necklace embedded with sapphires.

But that necklace was stolen.

Beatrice stole it.

She wore the necklace around her neck and appeared before Arthur the next day, claiming to be “the person who saved you last night.” Arthur had been injured and was disoriented, and the lights at the gala were incredibly dim―he couldn’t recognize the person.

My mother, the one who actually saved him and was pregnant with his child, had been driven out of the Montgomery estate the very next morning by Beatrice, branded an “indecent dance-hall girl.”

My mother disappeared into the New York winter, carrying the weight of a stolen life.

Beatrice stood before me, lifting her chin.

“Mrs. Sterling?” Her voice carried that distinct tone of Upper East Side Old Money―polite, yet laced with daggers. “I am Mrs. Montgomery. Victoria’s grandmother.”

“Please, come in.”

She entered and sat on the sofa. She didn’t touch the tea I offered.

“Mrs. Sterling, I’ll be direct.” She crossed one leg over the other. “You should know about Victoria and your son. The two children share a deep affection, and I don’t want to see them split up over unnecessary misunderstandings.”

“Misunderstandings?”

“You might not know our family well,” Beatrice said with a smile. “We’ve been rooted in the Upper East Side for three generations. When our daughters marry, the word ‘breakup’ simply doesn’t exist.”

When she said it didn’t exist, her tone wasn’t one of negotiation, but of notification.

“Also―” she scanned the room, her gaze settling on my face, “I heard Mr. Sterling made his fortune in tech? A new firm, just went public. I think you should understand that in New York, without the support of Old Money, the path for the nouveau riche is not a long one.”

She took a business card from her purse.

It listed a contact for a commercial land development project in the Lower West Side of Manhattan.

“Our family has already secured the rights to this land,” Beatrice placed the card on the coffee table. “If the Sterling firm is willing to partner with us, the project profits will be split 70/30, with your family taking the 30. In exchange―”

Her gaze was locked onto mine.

“Let the two children be together.”

The living room went quiet for three seconds.

I looked down at the business card.

Then I raised my head, looking Beatrice in the eyes.

“Mrs. Montgomery,” I said. “Are you here today to trade the development rights of a plot of land for my son’s marriage?”

“Not a trade,” she corrected me, her tone still elegant. “A win-win.”

I laughed.

“And what if I refuse?”

Beatrice’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes darkened.

“Mrs. Sterling, some things, once lost, are hard to recover. The Upper East Side circle is small. The Montgomery family’s influence in New York is far greater than you imagine. You are a smart woman. I believe you will make the right choice.”

As she spoke, I saw something very familiar in her eyes.

Forty years ago, she used the same tone and the same gaze to say similar things to my mother.

“Some things, once lost, are hard to recover.”

My mother was just an orphan girl of twenty-four back then. She had no money, no background, and no support. The only thing she had was the unborn me in her belly.

Beatrice won.

But today, the person standing here is not my mother.

“Mrs. Montgomery,” I stood up and walked to the door, opening it wide. “I refuse your offer. You may take your card back. Also―”

I paused.

“In the future, make an appointment before coming to my home. I don’t entertain uninvited guests.”

Beatrice’s expression shifted.

She stood up, her lip twitching. But she quickly controlled her expression, recovering that elegant mask of an Upper East Side socialite.

“Mrs. Sterling.” She walked to the door and stopped, looking back at me. “I advise you to think carefully. The consequences of rejecting the Montgomerys are not ones you can bear.”

“See her out.”

My bodyguard stepped forward, blocking the space between me and Beatrice.

Beatrice tapped her heels, walking out of the door step by step.

Before she got into her car, she glanced back at me one last time.

There was hatred in that look. Dissatisfaction. And a certain arrogance that said, “You have no idea who you are crossing.”

I closed the door.

When Liam called, I was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.

“Mom, did someone from the Montgomery family visit?”

“Victoria’s grandmother came.”

“What did she say?”

“She asked me to sell your marriage to her.”

Liam was silent for a few seconds.