The Billionaire’s Bride Pushed His Mother Off the Rooftop—Then the Maid Did the Unthinkable

Nathaniel hit the speaker button. The speaker hissed with the rhythmic static of an offshore satellite phone.

"Good morning, nephew," a smooth, cultured baritone purred over the line. "Or should I say, congratulations on the wedding? It’s so terribly tragic that modern romance is built on such fragile foundations."

"If you lay a single finger on Leo," Rose spoke before Nathaniel could unleash his rage, her voice cutting through the speaker like a diamond blade, "I will personally ensure that whatever remains of your worthless family name is dragged through the gutters of this city."

A low, amused chuckle echoed from the other end.

"Ah, the heroic Cinderella. The little gutter-rat who caught Eleanor Sterling by her diamond collar. Tell me, girl, did you really think scrubbing floors qualified you to swim in an ocean of sharks?"

"Where is my brother, Julian?" Rose demanded, her knuckles whitening.

"Young Leo is resting comfortably. He’s quite fascinated by the view from my terrace. Though, as your mother-in-law can attest, terraces in this city have a dreadful habit of being rather... precarious." Julian paused, his tone shifting into chilling business pragmatism. "I don't want your brother’s blood, Rose. I want my birthright. Nathaniel has forty-eight hours before the Sterling Global shareholders' summit. I require his biometric signature to unlock the offshore treasury vault in Geneva—three billion in gold bonds and operational control of the defense contracts."

"Go to hell, Julian," Nathaniel roared. "I will tear Manhattan apart brick by brick until I find you, and I will put you in the ground beside the vault you defiled!"

"Bold words, Nathaniel. But check the morning edition of the *Financial Times* before you play the hero." Julian smiled through the phone. "And Rose, darling? Keep an eye on your darling mother-in-law. Her tea this morning had a rather peculiar aroma, didn't it?"

Eleanor froze, the cup halfway to her lips.

Rose lunged across the table, knocking the delicate porcelain cup from Eleanor’s hand. It shattered against the marble, splashing the pale chamomile tea across the white Persian rug.

Where the liquid touched the fabric, the delicate wool began to fizz, turning an ugly, smoldering yellow.

"Security! Lockdown the suite!" Nathaniel bellowed, drawing his weapon as sirens began to wail throughout the building’s private grid.

"Too late, children," Julian whispered through the line. "The snake is already in your garden."