CHAPTER 8: The Mother Without a Mansion

Effective immediately meant the mansion staff now answered to Isabella.
It also meant the private office upstairs could be opened without Celeste’s permission, and the locked cabinet beneath August’s portrait would finally be inventoried.
It meant Preston’s emergency board appointment was void. It meant Celeste could no longer move family assets through private accounts disguised as household expenses. It meant the Newport house, the foundation gala, the art collection, and the voting shares all returned to the structure August had protected.
Celeste understood each piece before Whitaker finished listing them.
Her face did not collapse.
It emptied.
“You would throw your own mother out?” she asked.
Isabella looked at the woman who had raised her inside velvet rooms and made affection feel like something earned by obedience.
“No,” Isabella said. “I am removing you from control of what was never yours.”
Preston pushed back from the table. “Izzy, we can talk.”
She turned to him.
“You watched her hit me.”
He had no answer.
That was answer enough.
Whitaker closed his briefcase.
Outside, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun.