Catherine felt Maria's rough hand grab hers. She turned to look at her stepmother and saw the fear and worry etched in her face. She squeezed Maria's hand and then gently pulled away.

"Don't worry," she said quietly. "It's fine."

​​

She turned back to face the Stewarts and saw Melanie gazing at her in shock and confusion. "Is that what this is about?" she asked. "What on Earth did that bitter old woman say to you to get inside your head like this?"

"That bitter old woman is my mother," Catherine said.

"Stepmother," Melanie sneered.

"She may not be my mother by blood, but she raised me," Catherine said, turning to nod at Maria.

"We raised you," Melanie said. "And we are your blood. Your uncle is your real mother's brother—don't let that woman make you forget where you come from."

"I'll say it one more time," Catherine said, struggling to keep her anger in check. "Maria is my father's wife and my mother. Samuel is my father's son and my brother. They're far more entitled to my father's legacy than you."

"Come now, Cathy," Lawson said. "Please try to be reasonable. I understand that you're finally of age to inherit, but think about us. Think about your family. Don't turn your back on us for the sake of a little property. Whatever they've promised you, we can do better."

"Hypocrite," she said. "You know what you did for the sake of a little property. You know exactly who you turned your back on."

"How dare you," Lawson roared. "I did everything for you. I worked tirelessly to keep outsiders from stealing your inheritance."

"So you could steal it yourself," she shot back.

Lawson's face darkened, but he ignored her, "I've worked like a damned dog for four years to keep your father's legacy intact, and now because you're married and fancy yourself a clever, independent woman, you're going to destroy it all yourself."

Catherine rolled her eyes, "There's not much left to destroy. After four years, you've driven Feather Textile Corporation to the brink of economic collapse, and you've run through all of my father's hard-earned money."

A long silence descended on the room. Lawson sat panting in his chair—sweat shone on his forehead, and his face had turned a bright, furious red. Melanie stood behind him, her eyes narrowed in spite and her lips pursed as she tried to work out a way to regain control. Clark shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, but his calm, professional expression remained in place. Carl leaned back on his chair, wearing the amused expression of someone watching a dramatic TV show.

"So," Catherine said. "Do you want to tell me where all the money in my father's account went?"

"What do you mean?" Lawson asked, shifting his bulk forward.

"I mean, I called the bank and asked them about the account, and they were more than happy to tell me that it's almost empty," she said.

"It's been a hard few years," Lawson said.

"Evidently," Catherine said, letting sarcasm drip from her voice. "You've managed to blow through millions."

"I reinvested it in the company," Lawson said. "I don't expect a child like you to understand, but these are hard times. Instead of taking my profit and turning my back, I did everything I could to keep the company running."

"The company?" Catherine asked in mock confusion. She pursed her lips and wrinkled her forehead, pretending to consider his words. "Mr. Foster," she finally said. "I'm afraid I'm a bit confused, maybe you can explain something to me?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Melanie squeeze Lawson's shoulder, a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

"Yes, of course," Clark said.

"It's just that I don't know a lot about the business of the law," Catherine said. "But I'm not sure how to say, my aunt's necklace, or the sofa you're sitting on, or their holiday to Bora Bora last summer benefits the company?"

Clark's eyes flashed with humor, "They don't."

"So the money is gone, and the company is failing, and you're all living like royals," she said, dropping the fake confusion.

"You stupid child," Melanie hissed. "You know nothing about the world. We had to maintain appearances. Do you think anyone will invest in a company where the CEO and his family live like maids and common laborers? Of course not."

"That should never have been a problem," Catherine said. "The company was doing very well when my father died. I've studied the reports—it was growing at a steady and sustainable rate and saturating several markets. But when you came in, you tried to increase your profits and expand unsustainably, and you fired everyone who got in your way. Your poor management drove the company to the brink, and then you panicked."

Everyone in the room stared at her. Melanie's mouth hung open, and Lawson's eyes were wide and confused. Even Clark looked surprised and impressed. The old Catherine would never have been able to talk business with such calm authority. She allowed herself a small smile.

"Well, well, listen to you," he said, his beady eyes flashing with undisguised hatred. "Someone has been pumping ideas into your head. But just because you can parrot what some lawyer or old woman has told you don't make you smart."

"Frankly, uncle, I don't care what you think about my intelligence," Catherine said. "I know what the shareholders think about you. I know what the business journals have been saying. I know about it all, and I'm here to tell you it ends today. I'm taking ownership of my father's assets and distributing them according to the law. If you have any problems with that, you can talk to Mr. Foster about it."

"Ungrateful brat," Melanie said, a tremor in her voice. "You won't get away with this."

"I have the law behind me," Catherine said, glancing at Clark. "I think I will."

"James Stewart' property will be distributed in accordance with the law," Clark said. "The documents have been filed pursuant to all current property laws. If you have any concerns about the distribution, I recommend hiring a lawyer. Though, I can assure you this is airtight."

Melanie bent over Lawson and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, and she straightened up. She glared at Catherine as if she were a giant insect.

"You ungrateful bitch," Melanie said. "Do you forget what happened when your father died? You were a child—too devastated to function. Meanwhile, your stepmother was making moves to consolidate the entire family fortune for herself and her son. Everyone else turned their backs on you, but your uncle and I couldn't bear to watch it happen. We did everything for you."

She took a deep breath and continued, "We raised you like our own daughter. We loved you like our daughter. I'm not going to lie and say you were an easy child—you were a nightmare—all the cigarettes and the fights at school and the failed exams. But we loved you and raised you in a good home, and look at you know—married to Sean Blair. You think you're high and mighty because he's your husband? Bah, it won't last. Sooner or later, you'll come crawling back to us—but this time, we won't take you in."

Catherine dug her nails into her palms. Her heart thudded in her chest, and adrenaline and anger pumped through her veins. She took a step forward, unsure if she would scream at Melanie or slap her across her face. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"You never treated me like your own daughter," she said. "You took my grief, and you manipulated it and twisted it into rebellion and stupidity. You taught me to be reckless and spoiled, and then when the money ran out, you sold me off to the highest bidder. You used me, again and again for your gain, yet you have the nerve to talk to me about love?"

"You people make me sick," Maria said, her voice trembling with rage. "You're shameless."

Catherine turned to look at her stepmother. Maria's small body shook with rage, and her hands clenched into fists at her side. She put an arm around Maria's shoulders and pulled her stepmother close to her.

"I'm tired of discussing this," Catherine said. "Let's make the paperwork official."