Roxanne’s exhale of relief was halfway out before Margaret’s voice cut through the air again.

"But you will have to do much better than words to convince me." Margaret’s icy blue eyes narrowed on Roxanne, sharp and calculating. "I see how my son looks at you. I know something is going on between you two."

Roxanne’s stomach twisted, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Margaret raised a hand, stopping her. The air in the small study was stifling, smelling faintly of old books and dried roses.

"You are legally married, Mrs. Westbrook, and shareholders absolutely loathe scandals," Margaret continued, her voice level but dangerous. She brushed an imaginary piece of dust from her tailored wool jacket. "As an executive, public image matters significantly. It directly impacts the reputation of this company, the reputation we have built with blood and sweat for three generations."

Roxanne sat perfectly still, her hands clasped tightly together on her lap to hide their shaking. Her heart was racing.

"The tabloids have always projected the Vance family name positively," Margaret went on, her tone slightly lecturing. "We are the family and the business that everyone aspires to be connected with. Do you know how we have maintained that impeccable record for so long?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Roxanne looked back at her, swallowing hard, but remained silent.

Margaret leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them. "You are exactly the kind of scandal we avoid," she stated, her voice quiet but lethal.

The words landed with the brute force of a physical blow.

Roxanne’s brow furrowed tightly into a deep frown. "You know absolutely nothing about me, Mrs. Vance," she said, her voice dropping into a determined whisper. "You should only judge me by the quality of my work."

Margaret let out a sharp, mocking laugh that echoed unpleasantly in the enclosed space. "I would certainly love to do that," she said, her sarcasm stinging like a paper cut.

Roxanne did not smile in return, her expression remained firm and resolute. "Then wait for me to fail," she said. "When I do actually fail, then, and only then, are you free to judge me."

Margaret stared at her, her expression perfectly unreadable, her face a mask of sculpted porcelain.

Roxanne allowed herself a small, silent breath of relief, thinking she had finally gotten through to the formidable matriarch.

"One more thing you need to know," Margaret revealed, her voice dropping significantly. "Richard is engaged. And he will be married very soon."

Roxanne felt her entire world tilt, her heart literally dropping to her stomach. Her eyes widened slightly in pure shock before her corporate training kicked in, forcing her back to composure.

Richard had never mentioned an engagement. Why? Had he deliberately hidden it from her? Or had she simply misunderstood everything between them? Her mind spun out of control, replaying every touch and look.

"And Cara is the only woman I will ever accept as my daughter-in-law," Margaret added, her tone final and absolute.

"I am not here to marry Richard, Mrs. Vance," Roxanne said, fighting with everything she had to keep her voice steady. "I only came here to help make Vance Enterprises even bigger than it already is. And you can rest assured; I will not be bringing any scandals to your doorstep."

"Good," Margaret replied, leaning back in her chair. "You may leave now," she stated, her tone dismissive.

Roxanne stood up from the deep chair, her legs feeling heavier than when she had walked into the room moments ago.

As she turned and walked toward the exit, she could feel Margaret’s sharp, analytical eyes boring into her back. She knew with terrifying certainty that she had just willingly walked into the lion’s den.

Stepping out of the oppressive study, she followed the faint sound of the live string quartet. The wide hallway opened into a massive, glittering ballroom where hundreds of guests were mingling beneath crystal chandeliers that cast dancing light across the polished floor. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and aged wine.

Roxanne’s eyes scanned the vast space, looking for refuge. She turned her head toward the right side, searching the far end of the ballroom. There she saw him.

Richard was standing near the terrace entrance, looking absolutely flawless in his black tuxedo. A woman, tall and incredibly elegant, was attempting to place her hand in the curve of his arm, but he looked uncomfortable.

Roxanne analyzed the lady standing so confidently beside him. She was beautiful, poised, and belonged in this environment. This must be the fiancée. Cara. Richard had lied straight to her face.

Roxanne’s eyes burned fiercely, and she forced herself to tear her gaze away from Richard before he noticed her. You are here strictly for work, Roxanne, she commanded herself. That should be your only focus from now on.

Just then, a waiter holding a large tray of crystal glasses with amber liquid was passing just a few feet from her. She moved quickly toward the tray and grabbed a full glass, downing the contents in one large gulp.

She felt the liquid burn slightly as it went down, desperately hoping it would somehow help her regain the confidence she needed to keep.

As she turned around, a lady was standing there, her arms crossed against her chest. "That bad?" she asked, tilting her head.

Roxanne looked at her, her mind racing. Who is this now? She thought. "Excuse me?"

The lady stepped forward, took a drink from the tray, downed it, and then she took two more glasses. Then she stood beside Roxanne. "Did Margaret speak to you already?"

Roxanne frowned. "How did you know?"

"She interviews every woman who gets too close to Richard," the lady revealed. "You must be the newest member of Vance Enterprises," the lady said. She extended a slim hand to Roxanne, ignoring Roxanne’s initial defensive reaction. "I’m Pamela Vance," she said.

Roxanne took the hand cautiously, keeping her posture formal. "Roxanne Westbrook," she said, keeping her tone polite.

Pamela looked at her, tilting her head as she took in the expensive dress and immaculate makeup, and then slowly shook her head, causing Roxanne’s frown to deepen.

"It is just so ironic," she said. "I am currently doing everything within my power to run as far away as humanly possible from this family, but here you are, looking entirely excited about it all. They are even hosting this ridiculous welcome party just to introduce you to everyone?" she said, looking around the room with clear disdain.

Roxanne’s frown didn’t lift. "I don’t get it. What exactly do you mean by that?" she asked, leaning in closer to hear Pamela over the music.

Pamela smiled again, but this one didn’t reach her eyes. "Everyone thinks the Vances control the city." She looked across the ballroom toward the laughing guests. "Truth is, this family is held together by expensive suits and well-kept secrets."

Without another word of explanation, Pamela turned, and then she stopped, looking towards Richard, and then she looked at Roxanne. "If you’re smart, don’t get attached to anyone in this family."

Then she walked away, disappearing quickly into the sea of guests.

Roxanne stared at Pamela’s retreating back, her heart racing. What the hell is going on in this family? What have I just gotten myself into?