Elena clutched the corner of the table, staring at the typed legal paper as the blood rushed to her ears.
Elena: You cannot possibly be serious about this. Julian loves me.
Victoria: Julian loves what keeps our family business solvent and respected in this city.
Elena: Does Julian even know you are asking me to do this right now?
Victoria: Who do you think handed me the deed search records from the county clerk’s office this morning?
Elena felt her stomach turn into ice as the door to the terrace clicked open.
Julian walked in holding two chilled glasses of sparkling cider, wearing his tailored charcoal tuxedo with an easy smile.
Julian: Babe, did you see the floral arch outside? The florist really nailed the rustic look you wanted.
Elena looked between mother and son, watching Julian set the glasses on the side console without checking her eyes.
Elena: Julian, your mother is asking me to surrender my father’s workshop.
Julian’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a defensive, rehearsed glance toward the high ceiling.
Julian: Let's not make a public scene right here in the lounge, Elena.
Elena: A scene? You told me our prenup was just standard routine paperwork for your family trust fund.
Julian: It is standard procedure when an estate has outside development obligations.
Elena: My father died six months ago! That shop was his entire life's work!
Julian: And it’s an empty brick garage sitting on prime zoning land, babe.
Victoria tapped her manicured acrylic nail against the mahogany tabletop with steady, impatient clicks.
Victoria: The notary is waiting down the hallway in the private boardroom, Julian. Make her understand the reality of her position.
Elena: You planned this. Both of you knew this was coming before we even sent the invitations.
Julian: We are trying to build an empire together, Elena. You have to think about our future portfolio.
Elena: By stripping away everything my parents built with their own hands?
Julian: What good is a dusty garage in a rundown township to a married woman living in a penthouse?
Elena: It’s not just a garage! It holds all of my dad's antique restoration tools and our family archives.
Victoria: Nostalgia does not pay property taxes, my dear. Nor does it maintain family standing.
Elena: I won't sign it. I will cancel the entire reception myself before I give you that land.
Julian took a step forward, grabbing Elena by the wrist with a firm, warning grip.
Julian: You cancel today, and my father files a civil lawsuit for the seventy thousand dollars we fronted for the venue deposits.
Elena: You offered to pay those deposits as a wedding gift to my aunt!
Julian: Without a signed marriage certificate, that gift becomes an uncollected loan with compound interest.
Elena: You are threatening me on our wedding day?
Victoria: We are educating you on how wealthy families protect their interests, young lady.
Elena: Let go of my arm, Julian. Right now.
Julian loosened his grip, his eyes shifting toward the main doors as laughter echoed from the grand lobby.
Julian: Just sign the transfer addendum, Elena. Don't ruin our lives over a piece of dirt.
Elena: That dirt is the only thing I have left of the people who actually loved me without conditions.
Victoria: Five minutes, Elena. Then the paperwork goes to our litigation team instead of the registry.
Elena picked up the pen with trembling fingers, but her mind was racing through every lock on her father’s old desk.
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