Chapter 2 - Exposing the Heir
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Cold water ran beneath Nevaeh’s collar, soaking into her bra and plastering the thin white fabric against her generous curves.
She did not move.
She did not scramble for a towel. She did not weep. Instead, she studied Stella—the tremor in her hand, the quick, desperate glance toward the Perry associates dining nearby, the desperate need to see whether they were impressed by her cruelty.
And suddenly, Nevaeh understood.
Stella was not powerful. She was terrified nobody believed she was.
Nevaeh took a folded linen napkin from her apron and stepped calmly beside Leandro. She did not look at the sister.
“Sir, your ribeye is medium rare. I noticed you usually prefer it closer to well done. Would you like the kitchen to butterfly it?”
Leandro looked at her soaked sleeves, then up at her face. He did not speak, but the intense, dark calculation in his eyes shifted.
“The steak is fine,” he murmured.
“Hey!” Stella slapped the table, her face flushing an ugly, mottled red. “I’m talking to you. Look at me!”
Nevaeh finally turned. She looked down at the rail-thin woman in the mink coat.
“I know exactly who you are, Miss Perry.”
Stella’s mouth tightened.
“You are Arthur Perry’s daughter.”
A heavy, suffocating pause fell over the dining room.
“And Leandro Perry’s sister.”
Nothing else. No title of her own. No achievement. No independent power.
The implication entered the room before Stella could stop it. Nevaeh placed the napkin beside her untouched plate.
“You’re shaking. Your mascara is flaking. You came here to prove everyone is afraid of you.” Nevaeh’s voice softened, dropping to a register that carried profound, devastating pity. “They’re not.”
Stella went stark white.
“They’re afraid of him.” Nevaeh gestured slightly toward Leandro.
Without breaking eye contact with the trembling heiress, Nevaeh removed her wet apron. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a fifty-dollar bill from her hard-earned lunch-shift tips, and placed it flat on Stella’s untouched sea bass.
“For your dry cleaning.”
She turned away, her head held high.
“Leandro!” Stella shrieked, her voice cracking in hysterical humiliation. “Do something! Kill her!”
Behind Nevaeh came his voice.
“Sit down, Stella.”
May you like
The room froze.
“Now.”
