CHAPTER 2: The Sky Belongs to the Rightful Heir
CHAPTER 2: The Sky Belongs to the Rightful Heir
The private hangar at JFK Airport was blindingly bright.
Inside the Rolls-Royce, Logan Vance had handed Harper a sleek, black titanium debit card and a folder containing the true ledger of the Ellis Group. As she read the documents, Harper’s heart didn't skip a beat. For the first time in years, it beat with a fierce, steady rhythm. The numbers were staggering. Billions of dollars in overseas assets, real estate portfolios spanning from London to Tokyo, and a controlling stake in Vanguard Banking Corp—the exact financial institution backing Brandon Hail's entire empire.
"Brandon thinks he ruined you," Logan said, watching her carefully. "He thinks he took your life. In reality, he just severed his own lifeline."
"He took my dignity," Harper said, her voice shifting from trembling fear to an icy resolve. "He made me beg for crumbs while he fed his mistress with my sacrifices. I want him to see exactly what he threw away."
"Then let's make an entrance," Logan replied.
The hangar doors slid open to reveal a staggering sight: a brand-new, customized Gulfstream G700 jet, its matte-black fuselage gleaming under the hangar lights. Painted near the tail in elegant gold script was a single crest: the Ellis family emblem.
A team of world-renowned stylists, personal physicians, and assistants stood in a neat line by the airstair.
"Miss Ellis," a woman stepped forward, bowing her head respectfully. "I am your personal concierge. We have three choices of haute couture flown in from Paris this morning. Your medical team has prepared an intravenous nutrient drip to counteract your dehydration. We have exactly forty-five minutes before we land on the private helipad atop the Manhattan sky-lounge."
For the next forty-five minutes, Harper underwent a complete metamorphosis. The exhaustion was washed away, replaced by the glow of elite skincare and absolute power. The stylists dressed her in a breathtaking, midnight-blue silk gown that draped over her frame like liquid starlight. Around her neck, they fastened the Heart of Ellis—a flawless 50-carat blue diamond necklace that had been locked in a Swiss vault for two decades.
When Harper looked in the mirror, she no longer saw the broken woman from the courthouse mediation room. She saw a monarch.
Meanwhile, inside the jet's conference cabin, Logan handed her a tablet. "Look at this, Miss Ellis."
The screen showed a live feed of the Plaza Hotel's grand ballroom. Brandon Hail was standing on a stage, a champagne flute in his hand, laughing with several prominent European billionaires. Avery Lane stood by his side, draped in jewelry that looked cheap compared to what Harper was currently wearing, preening under the flashing cameras of the business press.
"Brandon is about to announce his new global fund," Logan whispered. "He needs fifty million dollars from those investors tonight to keep Hail & Co. afloat. He has no idea that Vanguard Banking Corp—your bank—just issued a margin call on his personal loans due to 'sudden marital asset restructuring'."
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Harper smiled. It wasn't a smile of malice; it was a smile of absolute justice.
"Tell the pilot to land," Harper commanded quietly. "It’s time to attend my husband’s dinner."
