The slap came so hard that for one strange second, I thought the crystal chandelier above the dining table had shattered. My head snapped to the side.

Three months passed.

The snow melted, turning the Boston streets into rivers of gray slush, but inside the Whitcomb Development headquarters, the atmosphere had never been clearer.

I sat at the head of the boardroom table, reviewing the final construction bids for the Connecticut project. It was moving forward flawlessly.

“The East Wing foundations are complete, Claire,” Vance said, projecting the drone footage onto the screen. “We are three weeks ahead of schedule and six percent under budget.”

The board members murmured in approval.

At the far end of the table, Arthur smiled slightly.

“Excellent work, Claire. I believe a vote is in order.”

The room quieted.

“Given the unprecedented growth and stability of the commercial division over the last quarter, I am proposing we remove the ‘Interim’ from Claire’s title. I nominate her as the permanent CEO of Whitcomb Commercial Development.”

My heart hammered against my ribs, but I kept my face impassive.

“All in favor?” Arthur asked.

Every hand in the room went up. Unanimous.

“Congratulations, Claire,” Arthur said, closing his folder.

After the meeting adjourned, Arthur lingered in the room. He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, leaning heavily on his cane. He looked older than he had on Christmas Eve, the stress of Evan’s public scandal taking a physical toll.

“You’ve done remarkably well, Claire,” he said without turning around.

“I had good motivation.”

“Evan is currently in a rehabilitation facility in Arizona,” Arthur said quietly. “Drinking. Depression. The doctors say he’ll be there for at least six months.”

I felt a brief pang of pity, but I pushed it down.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Arthur.”

“I’m not.” Arthur finally turned to face me, his eyes piercing. “He was weak. He allowed a woman to manipulate him and nearly destroy this family’s legacy. I needed an heir with iron in their spine. I thought it was Evan. I was wrong.”

He walked toward me, stopping just inches from my chair.

“You hold the power now, Claire. But remember this: power is a lonely island. You excised my son to get it. Ensure you do not let your guard down. There are always wolves waiting at the door.”

“I’m not afraid of wolves, Arthur,” I said evenly.