Chapter 16 - The Sister’s Betrayal
The briefcase opened with a sharp, pneumatic hiss. Inside lay a document bound in deep navy velvet, embossed with the dual sigils of Montague and Vance, flanked by two biometric digital keypads. It was an unconditional surrender of sole executive authority. If I pressed my thumb to that scanner, Victoria would possess equal administrative command over every sovereign account, every shadow trust, and every vault in the Swiss Confederation.
“And if I refuse?” I asked, meeting her icy sapphire gaze without flinching.
“Then you remain down here,” Victoria replied evenly. “Geneva is an old city, Claire. Beneath the Rue du Rhône lies an ancient labyrinth of catacombs built by medieval bishops. It is remarkably easy for a newly discovered heir to vanish without a trace during a high-stakes corporate transition. Julian and Therese will simply be tragic casualties of an accidental gas leak in the sub-vaults.”
Before Julian could react, the two guards at Victoria’s flank raised suppressed submachine guns, their laser sights painting bright red dots across Julian’s chest and forehead. Julian’s jaw hardened, but he knew the tactical reality: at this range, against six trained mercenaries, any twitch would mean our instant slaughter.
“Wait,” a tremulous, shattered voice called out from the corridor behind the blast doors.
From the shadows of the entrance stumbled Evelyn Vance.
She was unrecognizable. The designer silk gown she had worn so proudly at the birthday dinner was torn and covered in dust. Her jewelry was gone, her makeup smeared with dried tears, her hair wild and disheveled. She fell to her knees at Victoria’s feet, clutching the hem of Victoria’s charcoal coat like a dog begging for scraps.
“Aunt Victoria... please!” Evelyn sobbed hysterically. “Richard has been arrested at the border! The police have frozen all my personal accounts! Conrad turned state's evidence on Arthur twenty minutes ago! You promised us twenty million dollars! You promised Richard and me that once Claire was broken, we would have our estate in Saint-Tropez!”
Victoria looked down at Evelyn with the same disgust one might reserve for a cockroach crawling across an antique rug. Without breaking stride, she kicked Evelyn’s hand away.
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“You foolish, vulgar little girl,” Victoria said coldly. “You threw cheap red wine in David Montague’s face at a public restaurant. You brought the press into what should have been a surgical strike. You and Richard are incompetent parasites. Did you truly believe I would share an empire with the gutter spawn of Arthur Vance?”
Evelyn gasped, clutching her bruised wrist, her eyes widening in horrifying comprehension. She turned her tear-stained face toward me, the woman she had spent years mocking and torturing. “Claire... please... she’s going to kill us all. She told Richard to marry you, she paid his debts... she wanted you in the family so she could legally bypass the Swiss bloodline clauses!”