I clutched the taxi's worn leather seat as we pulled up to a massive wrought iron gate. The elaborate "R" in the metalwork left no doubt—this was Ricardo property.
"You're sure this is the address?" I asked the driver, my voice betraying my nervousness.
The driver nodded. "This is the pin location, ma'am."
Mrs. Margaret sat beside me, her eyes lighting up. "We're home! Look, Juliana, isn't it beautiful?"
I stared through the taxi window at the sprawling estate beyond the gate. No. One Manor wasn't just a house—it was practically a small kingdom. Manicured lawns stretched as far as I could see, dotted with classical statues and formal gardens. The main house loomed in the distance, a massive stone structure that belonged in a period film.
"I can't believe this is where your grandson lives," I whispered.
Mrs. Margaret patted my hand. "Where we live, dear. It's your home now too."
The taxi driver cleared his throat. "Should I pull up to the intercom?"
I nodded, and he drove forward. As he rolled down his window to press the call button, Mrs. Margaret suddenly clutched her chest.
"Are you all right?" I asked, alarmed by her sudden pallor.
"Just need... my medicine," she wheezed, rummaging through her purse.
While helping her search, I pulled out my phone to message "Grandson."
*We're at the gate. Your grandmother needs her medication. Please let us in.*
I waited anxiously for a response when a familiar voice shattered my concentration.
"What the hell do you think you're doing here?"
I froze. Imogen stood just outside the gate, her designer heels sinking into the gravel. My mother, Ivy, was right beside her, her face twisted with fury.
"Imogen? Mom?" My stomach dropped. "What are you doing here?"
Imogen's laugh was sharp. "I could ask you the same thing. This is my fiancé's family's estate."
Of course. Liam Ricardo. I'd forgotten the connection in my focus on meeting Nathaniel.
"You pathetic little schemer," Mom hissed, stepping closer to the gate. "Following us to the Ricardo estate? How desperate can you be?"
Mrs. Margaret looked between us, confusion clouding her features. "Who are these unpleasant people, Juliana?"
"Nobody important," I said quickly, turning to the driver. "Please try the intercom again."
"Don't you dare!" Imogen shouted. She turned to a security guard who had emerged from a small gatehouse. "This woman is stalking my fiancé's family. She's brought some old lady as a prop to try getting past security."
The guard looked uncertain. "Ma'am, I'll need to call the main house."
Mrs. Margaret straightened in her seat. "Young man, I am Margaret Ricardo. This is my home."
Mom burst into cruel laughter. "Did you find some confused old woman to pretend she's a Ricardo? That's low, even for you, Juliana."
"She IS Mrs. Ricardo," I insisted, but the doubt in the guard's eyes was clear.
Mrs. Margaret's breathing grew more labored. She fumbled with her pill bottle, then looked up with panic in her eyes. "Empty," she whispered.
Alarm shot through me. "She needs medical attention. Please, we have to get inside."
"Let me see," the guard said, approaching our taxi.
Imogen stepped between us. "She's lying. This is just another of her schemes."
"She's having a medical emergency!" I shouted, helping Mrs. Margaret out of the taxi. "Call someone from the house!"
Mom snorted. "Always the drama queen. Nobody from the Ricardo family knows you, Juliana."
Mrs. Margaret's knees buckled. I caught her, struggling under her weight.
"Please," I begged the guard. "Call Nathaniel Ricardo. Tell him his grandmother needs help!"
The guard hesitated, reaching for his radio.
"Don't you dare," Mom snapped. "This illegitimate trash thinks she can force her way into your family by making up emergencies."
Mrs. Margaret's face had gone ghost-white. Her breathing was shallow.
I made a decision. Supporting her weight, I moved toward the gate. "Open it. Now."
The guard stepped back, clearly conflicted.
"If she dies because you wouldn't let her into her own home, how will you explain that to your employer?" I demanded.
He started to reach for the gate controls when Imogen physically blocked him.
"She doesn't live here! She's never lived here!" Imogen shrieked. "Call Liam Ricardo right now. He'll tell you this woman is nothing but a liar and a social climber."
Mrs. Margaret clutched my arm. "My heart," she whispered.
Panic surged through me. I reached into her purse and found her phone, desperately hitting the call button on her most recent contact—"Grandson."
It rang and rang. No answer.
"Get out of the way," I said, my voice hard as I tried to push past Imogen while supporting Mrs. Margaret.
Mom stepped forward and slapped me across the face. "Know your place! You think you can just waltz into a family like the Ricardos? You're nothing but trash, just like your father."
The blow stung, but I barely felt it. Mrs. Margaret was leaning more heavily against me by the second.
"Please," I begged the guard. "She's an elderly woman having a heart attack. Would you rather be wrong about letting me in or wrong about keeping her out?"
The guard's hand moved toward the gate control again.
"Touch that button and I'll have you fired," Imogen threatened. "My fiancé is Liam Ricardo. Do you know what that means?"
The man's hand froze.
Mrs. Margaret's legs gave way completely. I lowered her to the ground, cradling her head.
"Help me!" I screamed, no longer caring who heard. "Someone help!"
"Stop making a scene," Mom hissed, grabbing my arm. "Get away from here before we call the police."
I yanked free of her grip. "I'm not leaving her. She needs medical attention now!"
"Such dedication to your little con," Imogen mocked. "Did you think if you brought some old woman here claiming she's a Ricardo, they'd just let you in?"
I was about to respond when the sound of tires on gravel made us all turn. A sleek black car approached from inside the property, coming to a stop just beyond the gate.
The driver's door opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out. Even at this distance, his presence commanded attention. He wore a tailored suit that emphasized his powerful build, his dark hair perfectly styled despite the late hour.
"What's going on here?" His deep voice cut through the chaos.
Imogen's demeanor changed instantly. "Nathaniel! Thank goodness you're here. This woman—" she pointed accusingly at me, "—is trying to force her way onto your property with some dying old woman."
Nathaniel Ricardo's cold gaze swept over the scene, taking in my kneeling form supporting Mrs. Margaret. When his eyes fell on the elderly woman in my arms, his pupils contracted in shock.
"Grandmother?" he whispered.