Chapter 6 - The Price of Sins
Eleanor slammed both hands onto the mahogany table, half-rising from her seat before her knees buckled under her.
"Cut the games, Clara!" she hissed, spittle flying from her lips. "Where is my grandson? Name your price! Ten million? Fifty million? Take half the Vanguard portfolio and give us the boy!"
Arthur leaned forward, his face red with rage. "You can't hold the company hostage, Clara! That’s corporate extortion! We’ll have you arrested, we’ll have you thrown in prison for the rest of your life!"
I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink. I picked up a crystal water glass, took a slow, deliberate sip, and set it back down with a soft clink.
"Arrest me under what charge, Arthur?" I asked softly, tilting my head. "Kidnapping my own flesh and blood? Or perhaps you'd like to explain to the federal prosecutor why you dragged a nine-month pregnant woman out into a freezing alley during a funeral and locked her out?"
Arthur’s mouth snapped shut, the color draining from his face as he realized the fatal flaw in his threat. The security cameras outside St. Jude’s Parish had been "malfunctioning" that day—or so they thought. What they didn't know was that Julian had installed a secondary, independent dashcam recording system on his parked car across the street, capturing every single second of Arthur shoving me out the door and Eleanor sneering down at me.
That footage was already sitting securely in Marcus Vance’s safety deposit box, set for automatic release to every major news outlet in the country if anything happened to me or my children.
Eleanor sank back into her chair, realizing the checkmate she had walked into. Her hands trembled violently as she reached for her own water glass.
"What do you want, Clara?" Eleanor whispered, her voice cracking with defeat. "What will it take for you to sign the registry and hand over the boy?"
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, locking my eyes onto hers with terrifying intensity.
"It’s not about money anymore, Eleanor," I said quietly. "You spent five years trying to destroy me, treating me like garbage, mocking my family, and whispering poison into Julian’s ear. And then, at his funeral—the very day we laid him to rest—you tried to kill me and my unborn child."
I paused, letting the silence suffocate the room.
"You want the Vanguard empire? You want your precious bloodline to inherit the multi-billion-dollar corporation?" I smiled coldly. "Here are my terms."
Marcus Vance opened his leather briefcase and slid two thick legal documents across the table toward them.
Eleanor looked down at the papers, her eyes widening in absolute horror as she read the first paragraph.
"This... this is insane!" Arthur roared, slamming his fist onto the table. "You want us to transfer 60% of Vanguard Holdings voting shares into an irrevocable trust controlled entirely by Clara? And you want us to publicly step down from the board of directors?"
"That's just page one, Arthur," I murmured sweetly. "Page two requires you, Eleanor, to publish a full-page confession and public apology in every major newspaper in New York and Boston, detailing your abuse, your malice, and your attempt to abandon me in that alley."
Eleanor let out a choked gasp, clutching her chest as if she were having a heart attack. "Never! I would rather die!"
"Then die," I said instantly, my voice turning to absolute ice. I stood up smoothly, smoothing down my dress, and looked down at them with sovereign contempt.
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"You have twenty-four hours to sign every single line on those documents," I said, turning toward the door. "When the thirty-day probate clock expires tomorrow night, the empire goes to charity, you both go to federal prison for conspiracy and elder manipulation, and you will never, ever lay eyes on your grandson."
I didn't look back as I walked out of the room, leaving them drowning in the very trap they had set for me.
