Chapter 2: The Wolves at the Door
News of Arya Nolan’s fortune spread through the city’s legal and social circles like wildfire. Money has a scent, and it attracts two types of people: those who want to help, and those who want to feast.
Maxwell Grant had barely finished filing the emergency protection orders when his assistant buzzed him. "Mr. Grant, there is a woman in the lobby. She claims to be the maternal aunt of Arya Nolan. She has legal documents."
Maxwell frowned. He had run a background check. Arya was an orphan with no living relatives. He walked to the lobby, his suit jacket sharp, his face a mask of iron. A woman sat on a leather sofa, clutching a purse, her face twisted into a manufactured expression of grief. This was Clara. She wasn't an aunt; she was a woman who had lived down the hall from Arya’s mother years ago and had been evicted for fraud.
"I just want my niece," Clara sobbed, loud enough for the lobby to hear. "I didn't know Melissa had passed. I’ve been looking for them for years."
Maxwell didn't buy the act. He saw the cold calculation in her eyes. She wasn't looking for a niece; she was looking for a retirement plan. He leaned down, his voice dangerously quiet. "Ms. Clara, I have reviewed the records. You have no blood relation to the Nolan family. I suggest you leave before I call the authorities for harassment."
May you like
Clara’s face hardened instantly. The tears evaporated. She stood up, smoothing her cheap dress. "You can't keep a child hidden behind these glass walls, Mr. Grant. People are starting to ask questions about why a billionaire is playing babysitter to a street rat. If I go to the press, this becomes a scandal. Give me custody, and I’ll walk away with the child. Or I’ll make sure this story ruins your reputation."
Maxwell stared at her, realizing with a jolt of horror that she wasn't just a grifter—she was a threat.
