Chapter 2 - The Morning After the War
The sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Vance estate’s master suite was pale, cold, and utterly detached from the chaos of the night before. Mia sat on the edge of the sprawling king-sized bed, still wearing the silk slip from her bridal suite, staring at her phone screen. Her hands, usually steady from years of architectural drafting, trembled slightly against the cool glass.
The notifications were arriving in violent bursts. Chloe had wasted no time.
At 3:14 a.m., while Mia and Daniel had been driving in heavy silence down the darkened coastal highway, Chloe had uploaded a three-minute video to TikTok. In it, Chloe wore an oversized pastel hoodie, her mascara artfully smudged under her wide, dewy eyes. The caption read: *“When your older sister marries into old money and abandons her own blood at the altar over a car she didn’t even pay for. Heartbroken isn’t the word.”*
The video already had nearly two million views and forty thousand comments. Strangers were calling Mia a corporate sellout, an ungrateful monster, and a heartless gold digger who let her billionaire husband humiliate her grieving mother in front of three hundred guests.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and Daniel entered carrying two cups of steaming black coffee. He had already showered, his dark hair damp, dressed in a sharp charcoal knit sweater and trousers that exuded effortless authority. He set a mug on the marble nightstand beside Mia and gently took the phone from her fingers, turning the screen face down.
"Stop drinking poison, Mia," he said softly, his voice a grounding anchor in the hurricane of her anxiety. "We knew Chloe would run to her audience. Narcissists always seek a crowd when they lose control behind closed doors."
"She knows it’s a lie, Daniel," Mia whispered, her throat raw. "She knows the Maybach was registered under Vance Holdings. She knows Mom tried to ambush us. But look at the comments. People want to believe I’m the villain."
Daniel sat beside her, resting a warm, heavy hand over hers. "Let her build her pedestal as high as she wants. The higher she climbs, the farther she falls. My legal team was in the office by six this morning. Marcus has already archived the entire stream, along with all the defamatory comments from verified accounts. We aren’t playing a social media game, Mia. We’re preparing an execution."
Before Mia could respond, her phone buzzed with an incoming call from an unknown number. When she answered and put it on speaker, the voice of the superintendent from her old downtown loft crackled over the line.
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"Miss Miller? Excuse me, Mrs. Vance? I’m sorry to bother you so early, but your mother is down here in the lobby with two locksmiths. She’s demanding entry to your apartment, claiming you relinquished the lease to your sister as a wedding gift. She’s threatening to call the police if I don’t hand over the master fob."
Daniel leaned toward the phone, his expression turning to pure slate. "Put her on speaker with building security, Superintendent. Tell her the lease was terminated yesterday afternoon and the unit is now under 24-hour private Vance surveillance. And tell her if she sets foot in the elevator, she will be escorted out in handcuffs."
