Chapter 3 The Legacy Game

The house had quieted, but Loraine's mind had not. It couldn't even if she tried.

Lights still glowed behind the tall glass windows of the east wing, bathing the marble floors in a soft amber hue. Everyone had retreated to their rooms, their laughter tucked behind expensive doors, but Damien's announcement rang in Loraine's ears like a siren she couldn't silence.

He had really said it.

Nathaniel Wolfe. Heir apparent.

The wine in the crystal decanter called to her, but Loraine didn't reach for it. She was tidying the last of the dinner reports on her tablet, cross-checking the logistics for the upcoming board meeting, anything to distract herself from the storm Damien had brewed at the table.

A gentle knock.

Loraine didn't have to look up. "I said I'm fine, thank you."

The door opened anyway.

Mrs. Heathrow entered like a silk breeze, eyes warm and smile measured, her silver hair swept into a bun so tight it could cut diamonds. She carried two glasses, one filled with red wine, the other empty and wore that maddening expression of calm understanding Loraine had learned to both envy and resent.

"You need to relax," Mrs Heathrow said, already pouring the wine. "Your hands are trembling."

"I don't want it." Loraine waved her off. "Tell a staff to bring chamomile tea."

Mrs Heathrow gave her a look, half amusement, half pity but obliged. When the door shut again, Loraine exhaled hard.

"I am not overreacting, if that's what you're thinking," she snapped before the woman could speak.

"I haven't said a word, darling."

"Then let me say it. Grandfather's lost his damn mind. He can't seriously think after everything that Nathan Wolfe is qualified to sit at the table, let alone inherit it."

Mrs. Heathrow moved to the couch and crossed her legs. "He didn't say inherit. He said probationary heir."

"A stupid title. A seed. You know how he works. He gives a little to test the waters, then drops the full weight once everyone's adjusted." Loraine stood by the window, arms folded tightly. "We can't let this stand."

Mrs. Heathrow tilted her head. "We?"

Loraine's jaw flexed. "You grew up with him, didn't you? Practically raised him even though you are the same age. You said you wanted what was best for the Thorne legacy."

"I do. And I raised you too, dear, don't forget that."

The knock returned. A tray with tea entered the room in the hands of a silent maid. Loraine took the cup, fingers wrapped tightly around the warm porcelain. She barely sipped it before launching into her next point.

"This isn't even about Nathan. It's about the future. Grandfather thinks he's being strategic, but he's not well. If we start giving outsiders the throne now, we are inviting war. His judgment is slipping, and if we don't do something-"

Miss Heathrow gently cut in. "He didn't give Nathan the empire. He gave him the illusion of it. There's a difference. The board still holds weight. The Thorne legacy isn't that fickle that it can be transferred with a dinner toast."

Loraine paused. Her breath slowed. That detail, that word anchored her.

Probationary.

Meaning conditional. Meaning temporary.

And if it was temporary, it could be undone.

"You're right," she said slowly, thinking aloud. "It's not a crown. It's a leash."

"Nathan will do great things for the Thorne empire if he thinks he has a shot at the throne."

Mrs. Heathrow smiled and raised her glass in silent toast. "Now you're thinking clearly."

Loraine took a real sip of her tea, some calm returning to her frame. They began to talk strategy, subtle board nudges, investor persuasion, perception management. It was the sort of talk Loraine thrived on.

Then Mrs. Heathrow tilted the conversation slightly. "And how's Michael?"

The shift was small but deliberate. Loraine blinked, caught off guard.

Michael Kane, her long time boyfriend.

"Still in Italy. Finalizing the Versetti merger."

Mrs. Heathrow hummed. "He's been gone a while, hasn't he?"

Loraine hesitated. "He's...busy."

"You two are the slowest couple I've ever known. Years together and still no ring. Not even cohabiting."

Loraine didn't respond immediately. Her fingers tightened around the teacup.

Were they getting along? The question hung unspoken. It wasn't that she and Michael fought, they didn't. But it was more like they operated in parallel lanes. Aligned in ambition. Mismatched in passion.

She opened her mouth to answer when the door burst open again, this time without a knock.

Derek.

He looked sheepish, running a hand through his mess of brown hair. "Hey."

Loraine's eyes narrowed. "What part of go to your room was unclear?"

"I had to talk to you," Derek said, shutting the door behind him. "Look, I know you're mad, but I had no choice. I had to get on Grandfather's good side."

She rose from the couch, anger flaring. "By groveling in front of Nathan like a drunk intern? What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking," he said, voice low, "that I've got another kid on the way. And this one might be a boy."

Loraine froze. Mrs. Heathrow quietly excused herself.

Derek sighed and dropped onto a nearby chair. "I know, I know. I'm a mess. But I'm telling you, if it's a boy, Grandfather might actually give a damn about my opinion. Lola's amazing but you know how he is about girls. This...this could change things."

Loraine groaned and reached for the whiskey on the tray. She poured it neat and downed the glass in a single swallow.

"You are older than me," she muttered. "And I'm still babysitting your disasters."

Derek leaned back, expression serious now. "I'm still with you, Rain. You deserve this. The company. If you play it right, you'll get it. Damien wants to pass the empire to blood. Nathan's not blood."

Loraine said nothing for a long while, letting the words wash over her.

Nathan was not blood.

But she was.

Damien's favorite, despite himself. His other choice was the kid popping playboy.

And maybe this was his way of pushing her harder. Forcing her hand.

Her eyes flickered toward the fireplace. Her mind began to turn.

Yes, she would play her cards right.

Nathan Wolfe may have had Damien's attention tonight, but the empire of Thorne would belong to her.

One way or another.