Chapter 3 - THE GHOST IN THE PORTRAIT GALLERY
The private study smelled of aged leather, cigar smoke, and old money.
Ethan was pacing near the mahogany desk, looking like a man standing on the edge of a precipice. Eleanor sat in a wingback chair, her posture rigid, her eyes flashing with pure venom. But it wasn't Ethan or Eleanor who caught my attention as the heavy oak door clicked shut behind me.
Sitting in the shadows near the fireplace was an elderly woman draped in a heavy velvet shawl, her face lined with age, her eyes holding the exact same piercing gray gaze as my triplets.
"Shut the door, Julian," the old woman commanded. Her voice was raspy, cutting through the heavy silence like a razor.
"Mother, she doesn't need to be in here," Eleanor protested, standing up abruptly. "This is a private family matter—"
"Quiet, Eleanor," the old woman snapped, leaning forward. "For thirty years, you’ve swept everything under the rug to protect your own position. And now, the true heirs have walked right through the front door."
I crossed my arms, holding my ground. "Let’s skip the family drama. Why did you invite me here just to humiliate me at Table 27, only to panic when you saw my sons?"
Ethan stopped pacing. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a desperate, pathetic plea. "Victoria... I didn't know. Mother told me you miscarried after the divorce papers were signed. She said you left the state and lost the baby."
I let out a cold, humorless laugh. "You believed her because it was convenient, Ethan. Because it meant you could marry Caroline Hastings and secure your political alliances without any messy loose ends."
"The boys are five," the old woman interjected, her gaze locking onto mine with terrifying intensity. "Which means they were born just months after the split. Under the original Montgomery family charter drafted by my late husband, the first-born male heir of the primary bloodline inherits eighty percent of the entire estate—including the controlling shares of the corporation."
The puzzle pieces snapped violently into place.
"Caroline Hastings," I whispered. "Her family’s political backing... it was conditional on Ethan holding absolute control of the trust, wasn't it?"
Eleanor’s face drained of all color.
"More than that," the old woman said, a grim smile touching her lips. "Caroline isn't just a wealthy socialite. Her father, Senator Hastings, has been secretly buying up distressed Montgomery debt for two years. If Ethan married her, the Hastings family would absorb our empire from the inside out. But now..." She gestured toward the door, toward my three little boys. "...if these boys are legitimate, they supersede every single clause in the charter. They own the empire."
Before anyone could speak, the study door swung wide open.
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Caroline Hastings stood on the threshold in her ivory wedding gown, her face flushed with fury, her bridal veil dragging slightly on the antique rug.
"I heard everything," Caroline hissed, her eyes darting from Ethan to me. "Who the hell are those bastards downstairs, and why is everyone saying my wedding is already over?"
