Beside her sat her grandmother, Eleanor Bennett, elegant, silver-haired, and watchful. She had seen enough of life to recognize cruelty even when it wore pearls.
After dessert, Eleanor placed a burgundy leather folder in front of Madison.
“Open it, sweetheart.”
Inside were legal documents, property records, and one name that made Madison stop breathing.
The Bennett Grand Hotel.
“Grandma… what is this?”
Eleanor smiled gently.
“Your birthday gift. The hotel on Michigan Avenue. It is worth one hundred and fifty million dollars. As of today, it belongs entirely to you.”
The table went silent.
Patricia’s smile vanished.
Ethan slowly lowered his phone.
“One hundred and fifty million?” he whispered.
But he did not look proud of Madison.
He looked hungry.
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