“Transfer the estate or there won't be a wedding!” she snapped. I declined. My son told me to beg for forgiveness or leave. I smiled, walked out, and days later, my phone wouldn't stop ringing.

Thursday evening. I was sipping wine when Arthur called me with an urgent update.

“They tried to break into the estate,” Arthur said.

My grip tightened on the wine glass. “Excuse me?”

“Mark and Chloe. They showed up with a locksmith an hour ago. Claimed they lost their keys. Thankfully, I had the foresight to hire private security on Monday. The guards stopped the locksmith and informed the couple they were trespassing.”

“Did they leave peacefully?”

“Not exactly. Chloe threw her iced coffee at one of the guards and screamed that she owned the property. The police were called. No arrests, but they were issued a formal criminal trespass warning. If they step foot on the driveway again, they’ll be put in handcuffs.”

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. Mark had really thought I would just sit back and take it. He thought my love for him was a weakness he could exploit to keep his greedy fiancée happy. He was learning, very quickly, where his entitlement ended and my empire began.

“Where are they staying?” I asked.