The CEO's Fake Fiancée: A Dangerous Deal

The Harding family townhouse on the Upper East Side was usually quiet. Tonight, it felt like a tomb waiting for a haunting.

Edlyn pushed the door open.

A crystal tumbler shattered against the wall inches from her head. Shards of glass rained down on the hardwood floor.

"You ungrateful little bitch!"

Aunt Victoria was standing by the fireplace, her face mottled with rage. She held another glass, her knuckles white.

Uncle Marcus was pacing the rug, wearing a path into the expensive Persian wool. Chloe was already there, curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a cashmere blanket, sobbing theatrically.

"You ruined us!" Victoria shrieked. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Edlyn stepped over the broken glass. Behind her, a man in a perfectly tailored suit cleared his throat. Bradford Weaver, Camden's chief legal counsel. He had eyes like a hawk and a shark's smile.

"My client has done nothing but protect her interests," Weaver said smoothly, his voice filling the room with an authority it hadn't heard in years. "Which is more than I can say for you, Mr. Harding."

"Who the hell are you?" Marcus roared, spinning to face him. He looked ready to strike someone. "This is a private family matter!"

"Not since you embezzled over ten million dollars from the Harding Gallery," Weaver replied, not missing a beat. He placed a tablet on the coffee table. On the screen was the Blue Heron Holdings transaction log. "We have the full records. The IRS finds this sort of thing fascinating."

Marcus froze. His eyes darted to Victoria.

"That's none of your business," he snapped, but the bravado was gone.

Chloe lifted her head, her mascara running in black streaks. "I loved him, Edlyn! Why couldn't you just let us be happy?"

Edlyn laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound. "Happy? You wanted Julian's money, Chloe. Just like you want mine."

Victoria charged at Edlyn. She shoved her shoulder hard. "Get out! You are a cancer to this family. Get out of my house!"

Edlyn stumbled but caught her balance. Weaver stepped between them, a silent, immovable wall.

"This is my house," Edlyn said coldly, her voice low but clear. "My parents left it to me. Your guardianship has expired. You're just guests."

The air left the room. Marcus turned a shade of purple she hadn't thought possible.

"We raised you," he hissed, stepping closer, using his height to intimidate her. "We took you in when your parents died. And this is how you repay us? You need help, Edlyn. You're mentally unstable."

"Are you threatening to have my client committed?" Weaver asked, his voice dropping to a terrifying calm. "Because attempting to use a mental health facility to silence a whistleblower is a felony. I'm sure a judge would be very interested in that."

Her blood ran cold. The threat was real, but now it was toothless. Weaver had turned their favorite weapon against them.

Marcus stopped. His face went pale.

"Transfer my mother's 25% share of the gallery to me," Edlyn said, her voice steady. "And vacate this house by the end of the week. Or this tablet, and everything on it, goes to the district attorney."

"We can't!" Victoria screamed. "The shares... they're diluted!"

Diluted. Illegal.

Edlyn stared at them. The greed. The hatred. These were the people who were supposed to protect her.

"My lawyer will contact you in the morning with the necessary paperwork," she said, backing toward the door. "If you touch anything in my room, I will burn you down."

"You can't prove anything!" Marcus yelled as Edlyn opened the door. "You're a nobody without us!"

She slammed the heavy oak door, shutting out their voices.

She stood on the sidewalk. It was starting to rain. She had no coat. No car. But for the first time in three years, she had a home to go back to.

A black town car slid to the curb. The back door opened. Camden Benjamin was inside, looking at his phone.

"Get in," he said, not looking up. "Your problem is solved. Now we have to deal with mine."