And why was Margaret suddenly afraid of the daughter she had spent years ignoring?
Audrey didn’t open the door. Not yet.
She turned to Poppy. Her daughter was still standing on the stairs, clutching the ultrasound photo. Her small fingers were white at the edges. Her eyes were fixed on Margaret.
“Poppy,” Audrey said. “Come here.”
Poppy didn’t move. She just looked at her mother. “Am I in trouble?”
“No, baby. You’re not in trouble. Come here.”
Poppy walked down the stairs. Slowly. Carefully. She stopped at the bottom and looked at Margaret. Then at the mistress. Then at her mother.
“Grandma said Daddy’s real baby is going to replace me.”
Audrey knelt down. She took Poppy’s hands. “That’s not true.”
“She said I’m not a real Bennett.”
“You are my daughter. That makes you a real Bennett.”
Margaret laughed. It was a dry, brittle sound. “Sentiment. That’s all it is. Sentiment and legal fiction. The moment Grant’s son is born, this child will be nothing but a memory. A footnote. A mistake.”
Audrey stood up. She didn’t let go of Poppy’s hand.
“You’ve been waiting for this moment for years, haven’t you?”
Margaret’s smile was thin. “I’ve been waiting for justice.”
“Justice,” Audrey repeated. “You call it justice. I call it greed.”
The mistress stepped forward. Her name was Celeste. She was young. Twenty-four. Blonde. Pretty in a way that was already fading. She touched her belly again. A nervous habit. A plea for attention.
“Grant loved me,” she said. “He told me he was going to leave you. He told me the adoption was a mistake. He told me he wanted a real family.”
Audrey looked at her. “Did he tell you about the trust?”
Celeste blinked. “What trust?”
Margaret’s face went pale.
Audrey saw it. She saw the flicker. The fear. The confirmation.
“The Bennett Family Trust,” Audrey said slowly. “The one Grant’s grandfather established. The one that can only be inherited by a direct blood descendant. The one that’s worth four hundred million dollars.”
Celeste looked at Margaret. “Four hundred million?”
Margaret didn’t answer.
Audrey continued. “Grant never told you about it, did he? He never told you that his grandfather’s will specifically excluded any child born outside of marriage. He never told you that his ‘real baby’ would inherit nothing.”
Celeste’s face crumpled. “That’s not true.”
“It is true,” Audrey said. “I have the will. I have the trust documents. I have everything.”
Margaret stepped forward. Her composure was cracking. “You have nothing. You’re not a Bennett. You have no claim to that trust.”
“I don’t need a claim,” Audrey said. “I’m the trustee. Grant signed over control when we married. He didn’t read the fine print. He never did.”
