Chapter 2 - The Arrival at Lake Forest
The autumn wind off Lake Michigan was brutal, whipping golden leaves across the stone driveway of the Drake Estate.
A line of luxury sedans stretched down the avenue, dropping off Chicago’s high-society elite, city council members, and senior partners from the city's largest investment firms.
In the back of a tinted black town car, I sat quietly, wearing an elegant high-necked charcoal coat over a tailored black silk gown. The dark fabric masked the physical weariness of giving birth just thirty-six hours prior. In my lap sat a sleek black leather portfolio containing three separate sets of notarized evidence.
Beside me sat Caleb, holding my hand firmly. "The private security detail I hired is already placed near the valet and the main hall. The moment you step into that courtyard, Ryan's security won't be able to physically remove you without creating a public spectacle."
"Good," I said, taking a deep, slow breath. "Where is the baby?"
"She's with a certified pediatric nurse in the private suite we booked at the hotel two blocks away," Caleb assured me. "She's safe, Mia. Focus on what you need to do."
I opened the car door and stepped out onto the gravel driveway. The cold air hit my face, sharpening my focus.
The venue was extravagant. White roses lined the outdoor aisle, crystal chandeliers hung from the open-air pavilion, and a string quartet played soft classical music as guests trickled in. At the front entrance stood Beatrice Brooks, Ryan’s mother, wearing a silver lace dress, laughing and holding court with a group of society women.
As I walked up the marble steps, Beatrice’s eyes landed on me.
Her laughter cut off instantly. Her wine glass wobbled in her hand, spilling a tiny drop onto her silver sleeve.
"Mia?" Beatrice gasped, her voice dripping with instant disdain as she stepped forward to block the entrance. "What on earth are you doing here? Who let you past the security gate?"
"Ryan invited me," I said calmly, meeting her icy glare without flinching. "He made a point of calling me personally yesterday morning."
Beatrice scoffed, looking me up and down with sneering contempt. "My son was merely being polite—or perhaps cruel, given your situation. You have no business being at this celebration. Lauren is carrying the Brooks legacy. You are nothing more than a unpleasant memory we’ve worked very hard to erase."
"The Brooks legacy?" I asked softly, a faint, cold smile touching my lips. "Are you quite sure about that, Beatrice?"
Before she could answer, Ryan stepped out through the french doors of the bridal suite, wearing a custom black tuxedo. His hair was slicked back, his smile arrogant—until his eyes landed on me standing in the foyer.
"Mia," Ryan said, stepping toward me with a mixture of shock and mocking amusement. "You actually came. I thought you were bluffing on the phone."
"I don't bluff, Ryan," I said.
May you like
Ryan walked up to his mother, placing a hand on her shoulder while looking down at me condescendingly. "Look at you. Still dressed in black, looking pale and miserable. Did you come to beg for an increase in your post-divorce alimony? Because my legal team made it very clear you aren't getting another dime."
"I don't want your alimony, Ryan," I said clearly, my voice echoing slightly in the marble foyer, drawing the attention of several nearby guests. "I came to deliver your wedding gift."
