“He has taken my money, but he cannot take my dignity.”

The door to the suite opened quietly.

Marta stepped inside, carrying a silver tray with fresh tea.

Her face was pale, and her hands were trembling.

She set the tray on the side table.

“Marta?” I asked.

“Is something wrong?”

“I was at the Park Avenue apartment this morning to pack your remaining things,” Marta said.

Her voice was low, almost a whisper.

“Bennett and Celeste were in the study.”

“They did not see me.”

“What did you hear, Marta?” Julian asked, stepping forward.

Marta looked at me, her eyes filled with concern.

“They were talking about the summit,” she said.

“Celeste has a new gown.”

“She told Bennett she wanted to make the announcement herself.”

“She wants to be introduced as the new creative director of Whitlock Luxe.”

I felt a cold chill run down my spine.

“My mother’s title,” I said.

“Yes,” Marta said.

“And there is more.”

“Bennett told her that he has signed the final transfer papers for the Carlyle suite.”

“He is going to evict you today.”