Chapter 3 - The True Lineage
The muffled murmur among the guests turned into sudden unease as the mechanical locks remained engaged. Several wealthy patrons stepped away from the bar toward the massive bronze double doors, testing the polished brass handles.
"What is the meaning of this?" a prominent real estate mogul demanded, rattling the latch. "The doors are locked from the exterior! Who authorized this?"
Eleanor ignored the commotion at the doors, still fixated on her prey. Her face was twisted into an expression of triumphant malice. She believed she had cornered me in front of the entire social register, branding me an ungrateful, low-class thief who had ruined her daughter's grand banquet.
"Don't change the subject with your cheap theater, Elena!" Eleanor sneered, taking another step toward me, her voice ringing across the vaulted hall. "You think you can play games? You think you can call whatever low-rent paralegal or union thug your father is to intimidate us? You are in the Grand Monarch Ballroom, surrounded by judges, district attorneys, and founders. You are an insignificant nobody from a nameless town, and you will leave here in handcuffs!"
I didn't answer her. I didn't cry. I didn't flinch.
Instead, I slowly reached behind my back, gathered the torn remnants of my silk bodice, and pulled the frayed edges together over my chest. I turned my head toward the catering staff standing frozen against the perimeter walls.
The head of banquet services, a tall, distinguished European man named Monsieur Laurent, was staring at me with his jaw slightly slack. His eyes had dropped to the black titanium card resting near Eleanor's foot.
Unlike the Ashfords, who only recognized gaudy labels and flashy jewelry, Laurent had spent thirty years managing five-star luxury properties across the globe. He knew exactly what an unembossed black titanium card with a miniature gold griffin crest meant.
It was the Vance Sovereign Card. There were only four in existence worldwide. It didn't just grant access to a bank account; it granted absolute executive authority over every asset owned by Vance Holdings.
Including the Grand Monarch Hotel.
Laurent’s face went completely bloodless. He took a hesitant step forward, his voice trembling as he broke through the cordon of high-society guests.
"Excuse me... Madame Ashford," Laurent stammered, his eyes glued to the floor. "Please... step away from that card."
"Quiet, Laurent!" Eleanor snapped without even glancing at him. "Call building security immediately! Tell them to bring two female officers to conduct a physical search on my daughter-in-law. She has stolen the Matriarch Sapphire, and I will not have her slipping it out under that torn rag of a dress!"
"Eleanor," Daniel finally spoke up, though his voice sounded thin, pathetic, and frail. He reached out a hand toward his mother, his eyes flickering nervously toward the locked doors. "Mom, maybe we shouldn't do this in front of everyone. Let’s take her to a private suite. Look at her... she’s eight months pregnant. This is too much."
"Too much?" Chloe wailed, spinning around to confront her brother. Her bridal veil shook with fury. "She stole my wedding gift, Daniel! The sapphire that Great-Grandmother passed down! She took it because she is jealous! Because she knows she will never own anything of value in her miserable life! And you are defending her? After everything my family has done to give her a roof over her head?"
"She isn't defending herself, Daniel," Eleanor added icily, crossing her arms over her chest. "Her silence is her confession. She thought our family was soft. She thought she could take our heritage and sell it to support whatever destitute relatives she has hiding in the hills."
I looked at Eleanor, then at Chloe, and finally at Daniel.
"You really believe that, don't you?" I said, my voice cutting through the tension with a clarity that seemed to drop the room’s temperature by ten degrees. "You genuinely believe that in the three years I lived under your roof, I coveted a single thing you owned?"
"You had nothing before Daniel picked you out of the gutter!" Chloe shouted.
"I had peace," I replied, staring straight into her eyes. "I had honor. And I had the mercy to let you play your little games of aristocratic superiority without humiliating you."
Before Chloe could bark another insult, the massive LED screens mounted on both sides of the ballroom—originally set up to showcase Chloe’s romantic photo montage—flickered and cut to black.
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A second later, the Vance Global crest, a magnificent golden griffin against a field of midnight blue, illuminated the entire room in a blinding, cold light.
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