Cutting the Strings: The Heiress's Revenge

Chapter 2

The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse dining room, casting a warm, golden glow over the imported mahogany table. Victoria sat at the head of the table, perfectly composed. She wore a tailored ivory silk blouse and wide-leg trousers, her dark hair pulled back into a severe, elegant chignon.

She had spent the night at a luxury hotel downtown, returning to the penthouse at seven in the morning just as the cleaning staff arrived. She had requested they skip the kitchen today.

Normally, by eight a.m., Victoria would have orchestrated a symphony of domestic productivity. She would have ordered the private chef to prepare Mason’s high-protein breakfast and Lily’s gluten-free avocado toast. She would have reviewed Lily’s college admission essays, color-coded Arthur’s board meeting notes, and organized Mason’s travel itinerary for his upcoming fraternity trip.

Today, Victoria had made a single cup of black coffee. She sat in silence, scrolling through an encrypted tablet, reviewing the footage she had captured the night before.

At eight-fifteen, the chaos began.

"Victoria!" Lily’s voice echoed down the hallway, shrill and dripping with annoyance. The nineteen-year-old stomped into the dining room, wearing silk pajamas and clutching a heavily highlighted printed essay. "Why isn't breakfast ready? And you didn't leave my Stanford essay on my desk. I told you I needed the edits by this morning! My counselor is going to kill me!"

Before Victoria could answer, Mason shuffled in behind his twin, aggressively tapping his phone screen. "Vic, what the hell is wrong with the WiFi? And why hasn't my travel agent confirmed the flights to Miami? I told you to authorize the payment yesterday. You know the prices go up on Thursdays."

Victoria did not look up from her tablet. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her black coffee. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until Lily slammed her essay down on the mahogany table.

"Are you ignoring us?" Lily demanded, her hands on her hips. "Where is the chef? We are starving."

Victoria finally raised her eyes. They were completely devoid of warmth. For eight years, she had looked at these twins with maternal affection, constantly making excuses for their entitled behavior, blaming it on the trauma of losing their parents. She had poured her time, her energy, and her hidden billions into giving them a perfect life.

Looking at them now, all she saw were two leeches.

"The chef is off today," Victoria said, her voice perfectly level, carrying a chilling authority that made Mason pause his frantic tapping. "If you are hungry, there are eggs in the refrigerator. I suggest you learn how to use a frying pan."

Lily’s jaw dropped. "Excuse me? I don't cook. You know that. And what about my essay?"

"I am not your tutor, Lily," Victoria replied, setting her coffee cup down with a soft clink. "If you want to go to Stanford, you will have to write an essay that reflects your own intellect, not mine. I suggest you open a dictionary."

"Are you serious right now?" Mason scoffed, stepping forward, his face flushed with anger. "What is your problem today? You’re in a terrible mood. Did the Tokyo trip go badly and now you're taking it out on us? Look, just authorize the Miami flights. And while you're at it, transfer my monthly allowance. It didn't hit my account at midnight like it usually does. I need that ten grand."

"Me too," Lily chimed in, crossing her arms. "I have a personal shopping appointment at Bergdorf's at noon. I need my allowance."

Victoria looked at them, her expression a masterclass in stoicism. "No."

The twins blinked, momentarily paralyzed by the single syllable.

"No?" Mason repeated, as if she had spoken a foreign language. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean no," Victoria said plainly. "I will not be editing your essays. I will not be booking your flights. And I will certainly not be giving you ten thousand dollars to squander. I am officially off duty."

"You can't do that!" Lily shrieked, her voice hitting a dog-whistle pitch. "Arthur promised us that money! You're just being a controlling bitch because you're jealous we actually have lives!"

"What is going on out here?"

Arthur strode into the dining room, adjusting the cuffs of his bespoke navy suit. He looked every inch the powerful, successful CEO he pretended to be. His hair was perfectly styled, his teeth blindingly white. He shot Victoria a look of mild irritation, completely oblivious to the fact that she had watched him practically inhale his mistress on the very sofa he had passed on his way to the kitchen.

"Arthur!" Lily ran to him, grabbing his arm. "Victoria is having a total meltdown! She won't give us our allowances, she won't make breakfast, and she's refusing to edit my Stanford essay!"

"She won't pay for my Miami trip, either," Mason complained, glaring at Victoria. "Tell her to stop being so psycho and authorize the payments."

Arthur sighed dramatically, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he were a weary king dealing with a peasant uprising. He looked at Victoria, plastering on a patronizing smile.

"Vic, really? I know you just got off a long flight, but come on. Don't take your jet lag out on the kids," Arthur scolded gently, walking over to the table. He leaned down, expecting her to offer her cheek for a kiss.

Victoria simply leaned back in her chair, out of his reach. Arthur’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he quickly recovered, masking his annoyance.

"Where are my board notes?" Arthur asked, gesturing to the empty space on the table where Victoria usually laid out his morning briefing. "The quarterly meeting is at ten. I need to review the talking points you drafted for the supply chain integration."

"I didn't draft any talking points," Victoria said smoothly. "You are the Chief Executive Officer, Arthur. Surely you don't need a mere consultant to write your speeches for you. Improvise."

Arthur’s face tightened, a flash of genuine panic entering his eyes. He had no idea how the supply chain integration worked. Victoria had orchestrated the entire infrastructure. He just smiled and shook hands at the meetings.

"Victoria, this isn't funny," Arthur snapped, his patronizing tone hardening into a demand. "I don't have time for your games. Go print the notes. Now."

"I don't work for you, Arthur," Victoria said softly, her dark eyes locking onto his. "I never have."

The air in the room grew instantly heavy. Arthur stared at her, trying to read her expression. He was used to her being tired, perhaps a bit rigid, but she had never actively defied him. She was the foundation that kept his entire fraudulent life upright.

"Look," Arthur said, forcing a laugh and turning back to the twins, deciding to play the benevolent patriarch to save face. "Victoria is just in a mood. She clearly needs a spa day. Don't worry, guys. I'll take care of it."

"You'll give us our allowances?" Mason asked eagerly.

"Of course I will," Arthur said, pulling his sleek silver laptop from his leather briefcase and setting it on the dining table. "I'm the head of this family, aren't I? I handle the finances. Victoria just manages the busywork."

Victoria watched him in utter silence, her hands resting elegantly in her lap.

Arthur opened his laptop and navigated to the private banking portal. "Ten thousand each, right? Plus the flights for Mason. I'll just transfer it from the joint liquidity account. Easy."

Lily smirked at Victoria, a triumphant, bratty smile. "See? Arthur actually cares about us."

"Just one second," Arthur muttered, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he entered his login credentials. He hit enter.

The screen loaded.

Arthur frowned, leaning closer to the screen. "That's weird. It asked for my password again." He typed it in more slowly this time, his brow furrowing. He clicked 'Log In'.

A bright red box flashed across the center of the screen.

Arthur let out a nervous chuckle. "Must be a glitch in the banking system. It’s saying 'Unauthorized User'."

"Try your phone," Mason suggested impatiently.

Arthur pulled his phone from his pocket, his thumb swiping rapidly as he opened the banking app. He held it up to his face for FaceID. The app loaded for a split second before violently kicking him back to the login screen.

In glaring red letters, the notification popped up:

**ACCOUNT LOCKED. UNAUTHORIZED USER. PLEASE CONTACT THE PRIMARY ACCOUNT HOLDER.**

Arthur’s face drained of color. He looked up, his eyes darting from his phone to Victoria, who was watching him with the detached curiosity of a scientist observing a lab rat.

"Victoria," Arthur said, his voice dropping an octave, a slight tremble betraying his panic. "Why am I locked out of the joint account? Where is the forty million?"

Victoria picked up her tablet, standing gracefully from her chair. She smoothed the front of her silk trousers, looking at Arthur as if he were a stranger who had asked her for directions on the street.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Arthur," Victoria said, her voice smooth as glass. "I suggest you call customer service. But be quick about it. You wouldn't want to be late for your board meeting."

She turned on her heel and walked out of the dining room, leaving Arthur frantically mashing the screen of his phone as the twins began to whine.