Chapter 5 - The Mother-in-Law’s Demands: Selina Shows Up Expecting Gold and Apologies
The heavy mahogany doors had barely clicked shut behind Rowan's frantic retreat when the sharp, rapid click of high heels echoed down the VIP corridor.
"Rowan! Rowan Alexander Vance, what on earth is going on down here?"
The voice was unmistakable. Selina Vance swept into the suite without knocking, trailing a suffocating cloud of Chanel No. 5. She wore a tailored cream-colored Chanel suit, oversized tortoiseshell sunglasses, and an expression of pure, indignant outrage. Wrapped tightly around her wrinkled wrist was the glittering, brand-new vintage Cartier watch Rowan had purchased with stolen money.
"Rowan, why were you screaming? And why did the security guards at the front desk dare to ask for my identification?" Selina snapped, not even looking at the bed. "I told them I am the paternal grandmother! I should have been escorted up in a private elevator with complimentary mimosas!"
Selina finally stopped, her gaze sweeping over the opulent room. Her eyes widened behind her sunglasses at the sheer luxury of the suite, the custom floral arrangements, and the private chef setting down a silver tray of fresh fruit.
"Well," Selina scoffed, crossing her arms and looking down her nose at me. "I see where our little bookkeeper has been wasting Rowan’s hard-earned money. Booking the presidential suite just to spite me because you weren't invited to my birthday gala? Absolutely pathetic, Phoebe. You always were an insecure, wasteful girl."
I sat back against my pillows, watching her with detached fascination. "Good afternoon, Selina. How was the yacht?"
"Exhausting, thanks to your constant dramatic phone calls ruining my son’s peace of mind!" Selina barked. She turned toward the sofa, waving a dismissive hand. "And who is this old man loitering around? An orderly? A cheap photographer you hired to take baby pictures? Tell him to leave immediately. I want to inspect the child."
Dad slowly turned around from the window, still cradling baby Leo against his chest. He didn't say a single word. He simply lowered his gaze and looked at Selina over the rims of his glasses.
Selina opened her mouth to screech another insult, but the words died in her throat.
She froze. Her sunglasses slipped slightly down the bridge of her nose.
Selina was a woman who spent forty years clawing her way through high-society charity galas, country club committees, and donor boards. She had spent decades obsessively studying the social registers and Forbes lists, dreaming of being invited to the inner circles of the true elite.
She knew that face. She had seen it on the cover of Bloomberg Businessweek on her coffee table every single month.
"G... Gideon...?" Selina whispered, her voice squeaking like a rusty hinge. "Gideon Sterling?"
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Vance," Dad said with lethal politeness. "I believe you were about to order me out of the room."
Selina’s face flushed bright crimson, the makeup on her cheeks cracking as her expression violently shifted from arrogance to desperate, fawning sycophancy.
"Oh! Oh, heavens! Mr. Sterling!" Selina gasped, clasping her hands together against her chest and taking a frantic step forward. "I... I had no idea! What a marvelous, delightful surprise! Are you visiting the hospital board? Rowan, why didn't you tell me we had such esteemed company?"
She looked around the room, her eyes darting frantically, trying to assemble the puzzle pieces in her shallow brain. Suddenly, a sickeningly sweet smile spread across her face.
"Wait... oh, of course!" Selina beamed, clapping her hands together. "You're here because of Rowan's brilliant work with Sterling Crest Hospitality! You must have heard about the birth of our little heir and decided to personally deliver your congratulations! Oh, Rowan, darling, I always told you your genius would be recognized by the top tier!"
Selina strutted toward the crib, reaching her manicured, diamond-encrusted hands toward Leo. "Let me see my precious grandson! We’ve already decided his middle name will be Vance, after my side of the family. And Mr. Sterling, while you're here, we must discuss Rowan’s retainer. With a new baby, a standard penthouse simply won't do. We’re looking at estates in Greenwich, and a small corporate advance from Sterling Global would be—"
"Touch that child, Mrs. Vance," Dad said, his voice dropping into a register so dark and cold it made Selina freeze mid-stride, "and I will have Marcus break every single finger on both of your hands."
Selina gasped, recoiling as if she had been burned. "Excuse me?! How dare you speak to me like that! I am the grandmother of that child!"
"You are nothing to that child," I said, stepping forward until I stood shoulder to shoulder with my father. "You are the woman who told my husband to let me give birth in a cab so you could eat steak. You are the woman who mocked my labor over speakerphone."
"Phoebe, don't you dare speak to me with that disrespectful tone!" Selina hissed, her facade cracking into fury. "Rowan is the head of this family! He pays for your life! You are an ungrateful, low-class—"
"Selina," I interrupted, pointing directly at the glittering watch on her wrist. "That Cartier Tank Française watch. Rose gold. Diamond bezel. Serial number 8492-AX."
Selina instinctively covered the watch with her hand, her eyes darting nervously. "What about it? My devoted son bought this for my milestone birthday! Something your family could never afford!"
"Your devoted son bought that watch on Thursday at 11:14 a.m. using Apex Media Corporate Debit Card #4412," I said with chilling precision. "A card linked directly to an operating account funded by Sterling Crest Hospitality. That watch was purchased with stolen corporate funds. Which makes you, Selina, the recipient of embezzled property."
Selina’s eyes bugged out in sheer horror. She turned to Rowan, who was standing trembling by the doorway, looking like a condemned prisoner. "Rowan... what is she talking about? Tell her she's lying!"
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Rowan couldn't speak. He just buried his face in his hands and let out a pathetic whimper.
"Enjoy the watch while it's on your wrist, Selina," I whispered coldly. "Because by the end of the week, the district attorney is going to take it back."
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