Chapter 168

• Anastasia stormed through the heavy oak door of Grandpa Wendell's study without so much as a knock, low heels clicking sharply against the polished hardwood floor. The room was dimly lit by a single floor lamp, casting long shadows across leather-bound bookshelves and a massive mahogany desk cluttered with family ledgers. Near the tall bay window overlooking the moonlit estate gardens, Wendell sat in his high-backed armchair, a worn leather volume of Moby-Dick open in his lap. His silver hair gleamed faintly under the moonlight filtering through the glass, and he didn't bother lifting his eyes from the page.
• "You need to learn some manners, girl," Wendell said bitterly, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder, still fixed on his book. He turned a page deliberately, the rustle loud in the tense silence. In his mind, Anastasia had always been a serpent in silk—beautiful on the surface, but coiled with venom underneath. An outsider clawing her way into the Carter fold, a threat to everything he'd built. She wasn't family; she was a leech, and he'd known it from the day Eliot brought her home.
• Anastasia didn't flinch this time. Her green eyes narrowed, lips curling into a smirk as she strode forward, her posture defiant, the half-burned marriage contract clutched tightly in one manicured hand. She'd salvaged it from the ashes of her failed schemes, a weapon to wield now. "You always call me an outsider," she said coolly, her voice dripping with mock sweetness edged in steel. "A leech on this family, here to claim Carter money. And yet you chose that Charlotte for Howard. You had full faith in her. Look what she's done."