THE VENGEANCE BALLROOM

James stepped out from the shadow of the stone hearth, the black barrel of his pump-action shotgun raised, pointing directly at the center of Eleanor’s grey cashmere coat.

"One more step onto this floor, Eleanor," James said, his dark eyes burning with absolute, lethal intent, "and I'll blow you back into that fog."

Eleanor didn't even look at the shotgun. She kept her eyes fixed on her daughter’s face.

"Put the iron away, mechanic," Eleanor sneered softly. "If I wanted you dead, the men in that car would have put a high-powered rifle bullet through your chest three minutes ago while you were standing at that kitchen table."

She reached inside her cashmere coat, her fingers moving slowly, deliberately. She pulled out a thick, cream-colored parchment envelope sealed with red wax, holding it out toward Lily.

"What is this?" Lily asked, not reaching for the envelope.

"The complete unencumbered title deeds to the Vance Maritime Terminal in Vancouver," Eleanor revealed. "Worth forty-eight million dollars. Registered under Maya’s legal trust, with you listed as the sole, irrevocable trustee."

Lily looked at the red wax seal on the envelope, then up into her mother’s cold hazel eyes.

"And what do you want for it?" Lily demanded.

Eleanor’s smile vanished. Her face became a mask of absolute, terrifying corporate ambition—the face of a woman who had spent forty years conquering boardrooms and crushing competitors without leaving a single thumbprint behind.

"I want you to take your place at the head of the table, Lily," Eleanor whispered. "The Vance family doesn't hide in cedar cabins in the woods. We don't live like mechanics and fugitives. You are my daughter. You survived Blackwood. You broke Julian. You proved you have the iron in your blood."