"Let me guess… the younger one?" I said before the maid could answer. The maid nodded. I didn't bother to hide the roll of my eyes. Of course it was him. The nerve.
Dad's jaw tightened. "If he dares show his face here—" he started, then stopped as my hand gripped his sleeve.
"Dad, you promised you'd let me handle this," I said, forcing my voice steady.
He looked at me for a long, private second. There was a war inside him between fury and his promise. Finally he exhaled through his nose. "Yes. But if I see his face around here again—" His lips pressed into a hard line. "Don't make me do something we'll regret."
My mother plastered a smile on like armor. We both knew him — Dad could make threats sound like statutes. He was the best lawyer in the country and, if he wanted, he could ruin a man's life without ever stepping near a courtroom. It was terrifying and deeply comforting all at once.
"I don't want you doing anything rash," I said, softer now. "Please. Let me handle him."
The maid watched us with worried eyes, then slipped away. I breathed out and walked back to my room to get ready. I could face Simon in public — with a composed smile and a cool nod — but I could not let Jeremy see me crumble or think I was still that cheap, needy girl he'd thrown away.
I smoothed my dress, checked my reflection, and practiced the face I would wear: collected, unbothered, untouchable. Then, with my stomach tightening into an unfamiliar knot, I opened the door and walked downstairs.
Outside the foyer, he stood there: Jeremy Gillian, hands in his pockets, that same dangerous calm around him. When he saw me, his face didn't show surprise—only the look of a man who'd already decided his next move.
"Audrey," he said softly — and for the first time in years, I saw Jeremy smile. Not the polite, practiced grin he gave at business events. A real one. Directed at me.
He reached for my hand, his palm warm against mine. "I was wrong," he murmured, his voice trembling. "I was really wrong. I was angry at you all those years because I noticed you hiding your expensive bags and shoes from me — claiming they were gifts. And then, one day, I saw you stepping out of a posh car, so I thought you were—"
He couldn't even finish.
I stared at him, every word cutting deeper.
"If you had told me," he continued, desperate now, "things would have been different between us. We still have a chance, Audrey. I know you love me. You always have."
He stepped closer, and I stepped back, cold, my heartbeat steady but my voice sharper than ever.
"The nerve you have," I said quietly. "Coming here — to my house — saying all this. You don't even feel ashamed, do you? All the names you called me... and now suddenly, because I'm Audrey Shepherd Anderson, everything changes?"
He shook his head quickly. "No, Audrey, it's not because you're an heiress! That's not why I— I never thought—"
He stopped himself just in time, his tongue catching on the word whore. I saw it form and die on his lips. He was lucky. Because if he had finished that word under my roof, there wouldn't have been enough of him left to apologize.
"Don't look so confident in yourself," he said, his arrogance flaring through the cracks of guilt. "I'm in tune with you, Audrey. You act tough, but we both know the truth. You crave me. You crave my touch. Look—your hands are trembling."
I looked down. My hands were shaking — not from longing, but from fury.
"I know what I did was unforgivable," he said, stepping closer again, pleading. "I hurt you. But we can start over. I'll make it right. Adel is gone for good — I promise. I'll be good to you, love you the way you always wanted—"
He didn't get to finish. Because at that moment, the door burst open.
"Let me in! This is my sister-in-law's house!"
It was her voice. Rosemary.
And behind her — Arnold, Cecilia… the entire shameless Gillian clan.
My guard, Joseph, looked apologetic. "Ma'am, I couldn't stop them—"
"It's fine, Joseph. You can leave," I said calmly.
"See?" Rosemary grinned triumphantly. "I told you — we're family! When I move into this house, you'll be the first person I fire."
I forced a smile. "How charming," I said flatly.
"Audrey, dear, we came to see you," Cecilia said in her sugary voice — the same woman who once called me a glorified maid. "Listen, being part of the Gillian family has always been your dream, hasn't it? Well, we can finally accept you wholeheartedly."
"Yes, Audrey," Arnold chimed in. "Jeremy made a mistake trusting Adel. Forgive him, and we can all move forward. You can finally be happy again."
For a second, I was silent. Not because I didn't have words — but because I couldn't process the sheer audacity.
"Listen, Audrey," Rosemary cut in, twirling a strand of hair. "If you're good to me from now on, I'll accept you as my brother's wife, okay? So just forgive him and let's move on. Oh, and your house is so big! Jeremy, maybe we can all move in here, right? Audrey wouldn't mind, after all, we're family, aren't we?"
I smiled slowly — coldly.
"Stay… with your brother's ex-wife?" I asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "That would make quite the headline, wouldn't it?"
The room fell silent for a beat, tension thick enough to slice with a knife.
And for the first time, Jeremy realized — this wasn't the same Audrey who used to shrink in their presence. This was Audrey Shepherd Anderson. And I was done letting the Gillians write my story.