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So I walk up to the desk, my heels tapping on the shiny marble floor.
“Yes, hi,” I say, smiling at the receptionist. “I’m here for a board meeting with the Copeland Corporation.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll just need to see your ID.”
I pull it out and present it to her, and she nods. “Thank you. Sign in here. It’s on the eighth floor. Just take the elevator on the left right up.”
“Great.”
I sign the sheet she presents me with and then walk to the bank of elevators. Even though I’m alone on the ride up, I maintain my façade of confidence and strength, and when I step off, I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead as I make my way down the hall to the conference room where the meeting is being held.
Of course, as soon as I walk in, all eyes are on me.
Olivia is here, and so are Stella and Alexander, Troy’s parents. I don’t have to look at them to feel them glaring at me, their fury clear. I’m sure they’ve been to the burned out wreckage of Troy’s cabin by now and confirmed that he truly is dead. But thanks to the dirt Victor dug up on them, they haven’t dared to make any moves to stop me from claiming his assets.
Although I don’t meet their gazes, I let myself look at Olivia briefly, giving her a version of her own polite, empty smile. I’m turning her own tactics back on her, acting calm and sweet on the outside, acting as if everything is fine—and I have to admit, it’s satisfying as hell to see the way her lips pinch at the corners in response.
Sweeping past her, I slip into the only empty seat remaining at the table.
Most of the other members of the board look over at me as I settle into the chair, clearly confused about who I am.
“We seem to be missing someone,” an older man says. “And we’ve gained someone new?”
He glances at Troy’s parents.
Alexander clears his throat. “This is Willow,” he says. “Willow…”
“Copeland,” I supply for him, my tone neutral. “Troy’s widow.”
His nostrils flare, his jaw clenching as low murmurs spring up around the room. Judging by the response from the other board members, I assume that the Copelands must not have announced his death publicly yet. They were probably still trying to decide how best to spin it.
Well, too fucking bad.
“Yes. Troy’s widow. My son was… he died recently. In a tragic accident.” Alexander’s tone is stiff, as if each word is being forced out of him and he hates it. “Willow will be taking over his role in the company and on the board. It’s… what Troy wanted.”
He swallows hard, and beside him, his wife puts a hand over his on the table. To anyone else, it probably looks like a gesture of support, since they both just lost their son. But I can tell that Alexander’s lips are trembling with anger, and his wife doesn’t look much happier.
Too bad neither of them have a choice in the matter. I can only imagine that in the days since they were given the news of Troy’s death, they’ve been scrambling to find a way to undo what I did and how I ended up taking over his entire estate. But unluckily for them, our marriage was fully legal. I’m owed a certain portion of his estate anyway due to my status as his wife—and thanks to the papers I made him sign, I got even more than that.
It’s all square in the eyes of the law, much like our sham of a ‘marriage’ was. They could probably take me to court to fight it, but that could end up risking theirentireestate.
So they’re trapped.
Just like I was.
I barely even look at the two of them, meeting the gazes of the strangers around the table instead. Vic did some research on all of them, so I know some basic facts about each one of them. But none of them are my targets here today. That honor belongs to Olivia.
The other board members look surprised, and there are a few murmurs between them as they lean over and whisper to each other, but I don’t flinch. I face them down, not wavering, because just like Malice said, I have every right to be here.
I’ve paid for that right in blood.
“Well, then.” The older man—Dexter Carville—clears his throat. “Welcome, Mrs. Copeland. Alexander, Stella, I am so sorry for your loss.”
They both nod, and Alexander’s voice is tight as he says, “Now that everyone is here, we can begin.”
It feels gross being calledMrs. Copeland, my skin crawling at the words, but I try not to let it show. That’s the role I’m playing today, the part I have to play for this part of the game.
The meeting begins, and as they dive into a discussion of the business, all of it is dry and dull. I don’t care about the financials of the corporation or the investment potentials. I only know what Vic and I went over, but I pay attention anyway, listening to all of it since he’ll want a full report when the meeting is done.
