Chapter 6 - The UltimatumThe room fell into a dead, suffocating silence. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner and the rapid, shallow breathing of Dominic and Arya as they realized the trap had snapped shut around them.
Dominic looked wildly between the guards blocking the doorway and me sitting unyielding in my chair. The bravado he had walked in with had completely evaporated, replaced by the pathetic panic of a cornered rat.
"Vin," Dominic muttered, his voice cracking slightly as he took a half-step backward. "Come on. We're family. We can talk about this. It was just... a misunderstanding. Arya was stressed about the wedding, the pressure of the estate—"
"Don't bring family into this, Dominic," I interrupted, my voice flat, devoid of any warmth. "When my spine snapped, you didn't see family. You saw an opening. You saw a carcass you could scavenge before my body was even cold."
I wheeled forward another foot, the heavy rubber tires of my chair making a soft, grinding sound against the rug.
"Here are your options," I said, my gaze sweeping across both of them. "Option one: You sign every single amendment, prenuptial waiver, and corporate transfer document reversing your little coup, right here, right now. Then you pack your bags, walk out that front door, and never set foot in Corvino territory again."
Arya’s eyes flashed with desperate defiance. "And if we don't? What are you going to do? Put us in prison? On what charges? Fraud requires proof, Vincent, and our signatures are clean on the legal filings!"
"Option two," I continued, ignoring her interruption completely, "is far less pleasant. My legal team isn't just going to audit your corporate filings, Arya. They’re going to trace every offshore account you and Dominic have been secretly funding over the past year using siphon funds from my logistics subsidiaries. Embezzlement, corporate espionage, and conspiracy to commit medical fraud. I’ll make sure you spend the next twenty years in a federal penitentiary where the guards don't care about your dress fittings."
Dominic swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly. He looked at Arya, waiting for her to fight back, but her face had gone completely slack. The reality of her ruined life was finally setting in.
"Sign it," Dominic whispered, his voice trembling as he looked at my cousin-in-law. "Arya, just sign it. We're finished."
Arya let out a small, broken sound—half laugh, half sob—as Marcus handed her a digital stylus. With shaking fingers, she tapped the screen, authorizing the full reversal of every document she had manipulated over the past six months.
"Done," she spat, tossing the tablet onto the bed. She glared at me with pure venom. "You think you've won, Vincent? You’re still broken. You’re still sitting in that chair, paralyzed from the waist down. You can own the world, but you'll never walk through it again."
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I didn't flinch. I didn't blink.
"At least when I crawl," I said quietly, "I do it on my own terms. Get out of my house."
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