The peace of the storm shattered the next afternoon.
Victoria was in the foyer, actually considering William’s offer to walk in the gardens, when the front doors opened. The butler looked uncomfortable.
“Madam, a Mr. Silas Vance is here to see you.”
Victoria froze. Her Uncle Silas hadn’t spoken to her in five years–not since he gambled away her college fund.
Silas walked in, looking disheveled in a cheap suit, accompanied by a sharp-faced lawyer. He grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. “Vicky! Look at you. Living in a palace.”
“What do you want, Silas?” Victoria asked, her hand instinctively going to her stomach.
“I want what’s mine,” Silas said, motioning to his lawyer.
The lawyer stepped forward and handed Victoria a thick envelope. “Ms. Vance, we are serving you with a lawsuit regarding the intellectual property rights to the catalog of ‘Luna’. Mr. Vance holds the original contract you signed when you were eighteen, granting him power of attorney and fifty percent ownership of future creative works in exchange for his ‘management’ during your early years.”
“That contract was for a talent show at a county fair!” Victoria cried. “It expired years ago!”
“The language implies perpetuity,” the lawyer smiled thinly. “We have obtained an emergency injunction. Your bank accounts, including the prize money from the competition, have been frozen pending litigation.”
Victoria stared at them. She was destitute again. She had no money to fight this.
“Family helps family, Vicky,” Silas sneered. “You’re rich now. Time to pay up.”
Victoria looked past Silas to the doorway of the drawing room. Cynthia Sharpe stood there, pretending to examine a painting. She caught Victoria’s eye and gave a subtle, triumphant nod. This wasn’t about money. This was about stripping Victoria of her resources so she couldn’t leave.