Chapter 3 - THE FAMILY CAGESecrets in the BoardroomThe executive dining room on the seventieth floor of Vale Tower was draped in midnight velvet and mahogany, illuminated only by the amber glow of designer chandeliers. At the head of the long obsidian table sat Arthur Vale— patriarch, founder, and ruthless dictator of the Vale financial empire. At eighty-two, his hair was snow-white, his posture rigid as a bayonet, and his cold blue eyes could still reduce grown men to stuttering wrecks.
Julian Vale, Sebastian’s ambitious cousin and senior vice-president of acquisitions, poured himself a glass of scotch, glancing sideways at the old man.
“Word on the street is that Sebastian spent the afternoon in Brooklyn,” Julian said smoothly, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. “Specifically near Prospect Park. Rumor has it he ran into his little ghost from four years ago. And the ghosts brought company.”
Arthur didn’t look up from his tablet. “Marcus handled the situation four years ago. The girl was paid off and dismissed.”
“Well, grandpa,” Julian chuckled, leaning against the sideboard. “It turns out the girl forgot to leave. And according to my sources in the private school registry and pediatric clinics, she didn’t leave alone. She had three little shadows with her. All born in January four years ago.”
The tablet in Arthur’s hand stopped moving. The old man’s gaze slowly rose, fixing on Julian with a terrifying intensity.
“Repeat that.”
“Trplets,” Julian said, enjoying the shock rippling across the patriarch’s granite features. “Sebastian’s blood. Genuine, grade-A Vale heirs. Which means if Sebastian decides to legitimize them, our carefully constructed succession plan—the one that leaves everything to me and my branch of the family—goes straight down the drain.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened. The silence in the room grew heavy, suffocating.
“Marcus!” the old man barked.
The security director stepped out from the shadows near the private elevator foyer. “Sir.”
“Why am I hearing about heirs from street gossip instead of my own security chief?” Arthur hissed, slamming his fist onto the table.
“The girl slipped through the net, Mr. Vale,” Marcus said evenly, though a bead of sweat formed on his temple. “She hid out in the outer boroughs under an alias. She kept the children completely off digital databases until they reached preschool age.”
“Excuses,” Arthur snarled. “I didn’t build this empire by letting stray mice chew through the foundations. Sebastian is emotional. If he gets his hands on those children, he’ll try to play the righteous father. He might even try to defy the board.”
“He already knows,” Marcus admitted quietly.
Arthur stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the parquet floor. “He knows what?”
“He knows about the forged bank statements. He knows I intercepted her letters four years ago.”
Julian’s smirk vanished. “Wait. Sebastian knows you sabotaged him? Then why isn’t he screaming bloody murder in the boardroom right now?”
“Because,” a deep, chilling voice echoed from the private elevator entrance, “a smart wolf doesn't howl before he surrounds the pack.”
All three men turned.
Sebastian stepped out of the elevator. He wasn’t wearing his coat anymore. His tailored charcoal suit was immaculate, his silk tie perfectly knotted, and his expression was completely unreadable. But the air around him felt charged with lethal static electricity.
“Sebastian,” Arthur said, recovering his composure with decades of practiced aristocratic poise. “You look troubled. Sit down. We need to discuss corporate restructuring.”
Sebastian walked slowly toward the head of the table, stopping just three feet away from his grandfather. He didn’t look at Julian or Marcus. He kept his eyes locked squarely on the old man who had raised him, trained him, and ultimately betrayed him.
“You always taught me, Grandfather, that family is the only currency that matters,” Sebastian said softly. “You taught me that betrayal within the house is punishable by total erasure.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Watch your tone, boy. Everything you have—every dollar, every title, every breath you draw—is because of this family.”
“No,” Sebastian replied, his voice dropping an octave, cold as deep-sea ice. “Everything I had was in Brooklyn. And tonight, you and your little lapdog Marcus are going to sit down and tell me every single person involved in the conspiracy to steal my children.”
Julian stepped forward, puffing out his chest. “Now wait just a minute, Sebastian. You can’t talk to the patriarch like— Agh!”
Before Julian could finish his sentence, Sebastian’s hand shot out with blinding speed, grabbing Julian by the throat and slamming him down onto the obsidian table. Crystal decanters shattered, spraying glass and liquor in all directions.
Sebastian pressed his forearm against Julian’s windpipe, leaning down until their faces were inches apart.
“If you speak another word,” Sebastian whispered to his cousin, “I will strip you of your title, your shares, your cars, and your clothes, and throw you out onto 5th Avenue in your underwear before midnight.”
Julian clawed at Sebastian’s sleeve, his face turning purple, completely unable to utter a sound.
May you like
Sebastian slowly released him, letting Julian slump gasping onto the floor. Sebastian turned his lethal gaze back to Arthur Vale.
“Your move, Grandfather.”
