“Listen to me, old man. Your daughter is a barren, useless—”
“Nathaniel Cross.”
The voice that came through the speaker was not hesitant or poor or afraid.
It was deep, calm, and impossibly powerful.
It was the voice Nathaniel heard on financial news every morning.
The voice of Edward Whitmore, billionaire chairman of Whitmore Global.
Nathaniel froze.
“You have just made the final mistake of your subsidized life,” my father said, his voice lethal in its calm. “Look at my daughter again, and I will erase you.”
Nathaniel’s face drained of color.
“Who is this?” he stammered. “Is this a joke? Isabella, did you hire an actor?”
Savannah frowned. “Nathaniel, what is going on?”
I stayed on the marble floor and watched his world begin to crack.
His phone chimed on the bar.
ALERT: Platinum Account Suspended.
