Chapter 38: The Intruder in the West Wing
The heavy oak front doors of the Sterling mansion swung open with a violence that signaled Liam's arrival long before he stepped into the foyer. He didn't even take off his suit jacket before he saw the luggage stacked near the grand staircase—designer trunks that looked like polished armor. From the drawing room, the sound of a Mozart sonata played softly on the sound system, a calculated touch of "class" that made Liam's jaw ache.
He found Sandra sitting on the velvet chaise lounge, a glass of sherry in her hand. She looked up, offering a practiced, demure smile. "Welcome home, Liam. I've just been settling in. The West Wing is lovely, though the lighting is a bit—"
"Get out," Liam said. The words were flat, devoid of heat, which made them ten times more terrifying.
Sandra didn't flinch. She had been coached by her father for this very moment. "Your father invited me, Liam. It's a formal arrangement between our families. I'm not leaving just because you're having a bad day. I'm here to show you that I can be the woman this house needs."
"This house needs silence, Sandra. And you are the loudest thing in it even when you aren't speaking." Liam stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. "I don't care about my father's arrangements. Pack your bags. My driver is still outside."
"No," Sandra replied, her voice sharpening. "I'm staying. My father has already moved the logistics funds. If I leave, the merger collapses tonight. Are you willing to explain that to your board of directors? Or to your sick father?" She saw the flicker of hesitation in his eyes and knew she had him. For now.