“An adult. Yes, and as I have repeatedly told you, so am I.” He held up one hand, and his mother was almost amused; so imperious, but still, technically, a teenager. “And I’ve made some decisions. Since you pointedly refuse to respect Father’s wishes.”

“Your father has nothing to do with my seeing Hugh.”

“He would have hated it,” Tom replied flatly.

Sophie said nothing. That was true, of course. And since Judy’s little bombshell, nothing she cared about.

“Firstly, you’re fired. The company has been sold. I’m here as a courtesy to allow you to get out of my office before the press arrive. Secondly, I am taking possession of Château des Étoiles. I will not have Hugh Montfort entertained there as a guest. Your lover is not welcome in Papa’s house—in my house.”

Sophie blinked. “What?”

“You heard me, Maman.” Tom’s youthful features were implacable. “The staff are packing away your things. The removal vans are heading there now. You may tell me where you want them sent.”

“The château is yours,” she said numbly. On that point, Pierre’s will was clear. “You’re throwing me out?”

“I take it you will not give Montfort up?”

Sophie shook her head. “I won’t be blackmailed, Tom. Things are complicated.”

“I believe they’re perfectly simple. Where should I send your dresses?”

She looked away, bitterly hurt. Unwilling to let her son see her cry.

“Give them to charity, for all I care. I want no part of them.”

“And you must leave the office.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Sophie snapped, losing patience. “You don’t have the stock to vote me from the board and you don’t have the votes. And nor does Mayberry. Not since the party . . .”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Tom said, and she hated the tone of triumph in his voice. “We’ve done a deal.”

“A deal?”

“With Mayberry. Grandmother gave me voting rights over her stock, too. When we sold to Mayberry, they had enough for control. I’m to be installed as chairman and CEO.”

Sophie felt all the joy whoosh out of her. Her stomach turned over.

“Tell me that’s not true,” she said weakly.

“It’s quite true.” Tom set his jaw mulishly. “I told you I was going to take my inheritance. You could have stopped this at any time.”

“Tom,” Sophie said. She felt panic rising, rushing at her throat. “They’re tricking you—they’re all tricking you. Don’t you see that?”

“I’ve already signed the papers. You’re a minority shareholder now, Mother. And you’ve been removed.” Tom marched to the window. “I think you should leave.”

“I will.” Sophie picked up her handbag. She wanted to say something. To tell Tom she loved him. To explain. To warn him. . . .