I offered a small, composed smile. “Shopping. What are you doing here?”
The woman looked between us. “Grant?”
“This is my wife,” he said, the word sounding foreign in his mouth.
“Yes,” I replied gently. “The one who hates crowds.”
The associate awkwardly stepped back, sensing tension. A few nearby shoppers slowed their pace. Grant lowered his voice. “Can we talk somewhere private?”
“Oh, we absolutely can,” I said. “But before that, I’d like to clarify something.” I turned slightly toward Marcus. “Could you confirm ownership of this property for Dr. Whitmore?”
Marcus didn’t hesitate. “The property is owned by Whitmore Commercial Holdings, majority stake held under the Elena Whitmore Family Trust.”
The woman’s expression shifted subtly. Grant blinked. “What?”
I held his gaze. “This building, Grant. The leases. The vendors. The land. Mine.”
He laughed nervously. “Elena, this isn’t the time for jokes.”
“I’m not joking.”
The woman stepped back an inch. “You said you were financially independent.”
“I am,” Grant snapped defensively. “This is just… technical structure.”
I tilted my head slightly. “Technical structure that funds your office renovations. Technical structure that financed the lake house. Technical structure that covers Harper’s school tuition.”
Grant’s composure began to crack. “Let’s not do this here.”
“Here?” I repeated softly. “You assured her I would never come here.”
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