Chapter 6: Queens Never Fold

As expected, when she saw I wasn’t reacting to her provocations, Allison couldn’t hold back any longer and came to find me.

We met at the café downstairs from Sullivan Enterprises. Sunlight filtered through the live oaks outside, dappling the marble tabletop between us. The smell of chicory coffee hung in the air. I looked her up and down and smiled.

“Miss Foster, you look well. It seems Grant is taking good care of you.”

Allison extended her hand in front of me.

“Mrs. Peterson, does this look familiar?”

“The Peterson family heirloom bracelet. If I remember right, Grant gave it to you when he proposed.”

“You wrapped it layer after layer and locked it in the safe. So funny.”

“The thing you treasured—Grant gave it to me after I looked at it a couple of times.”

“Face it, Natalie—you’re only Mrs. Peterson because you were born with the right last name. That’s all you’ve got.”

“And I—apart from the title of Mrs. Peterson—have everything you don’t.”

Faced with Allison’s arrogance, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Miss Foster, congratulations on your dream coming true.”

“There’s one detail you may have missed, but I want to remind you.”

“Uncle Peterson was the one who sent you away. For years, you tried every way but couldn’t contact Grant.”

“Guess who leaked the news of our wedding to you right before the ceremony?”

“And why, after ten years of never getting through, you could suddenly reach Grant’s number?”

Allison froze.

She stared at me, eyes wide with disbelief.

“It couldn’t have been you—are you insane?”

I just smiled, slow and cold, letting her see exactly how sharp the edge of a Sullivan could be. Outside, a trolley rattled past, bells clanging, as if the city itself was bearing witness. I sipped my coffee, slow and unbothered, while Allison’s hands shook. In Savannah, the real queens never fold. And I was just getting started.