Chapter 2 - The Wrath of the HeirInside Vale Tower, the fifty-fourth floor penthouse office was a war zone of shattered crystal and overturned mahogany.
Sebastian stood before floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the glittering expanse of New York City, his hands braced against the frame so hard his knuckles bled. Behind him, the digital screens tracking international markets blinked mindlessly, mirroring the chaotic static screaming inside his mind.
Four years. Four years of believing he was unwanted, of believing the woman he had loved with a quiet, desperate intensity had signed away their vows without a backward glance. He had drowned his agony in hostile takeovers, building an impenetrable fortress around his heart, convinced that emotion was a structural weakness.
And all the while, three children with his gray eyes had been growing up five miles away.
The private elevator chime pinged. Daniel Mercer stepped out, his posture stiff, his face pale despite decades of weathering corporate executions.
"You wanted to see me, Mr. Vale," Mercer said, his voice entirely too steady for a man standing in front of an apex predator.
Sebastian turned slowly. The fury in his eyes was not loud; it was cold, absolute, and terminal. "Four years ago, Elena Miller sent letters to this building. Scores of them. My private line rang off the hook. You told me she moved on. You told me she wanted nothing to do with me."
"Miss Miller was a gold-digger from an ordinary background," Mercer replied, his chin lifting with institutional arrogance. "The patriarch, Mr. Jonathan Vale, decreed that the marriage was a liability. He protected the family legacy. I executed his directives."
Sebastian didn't shout. He walked across the room with slow, predatory grace until he stood inches from the older man. "My grandfather is seventy-eight years old," Sebastian whispered softly. "His heart is weak. But before I tear his legacy down to its foundation and feed the vultures, I am going to dismantle you, Mercer. Every bank account you hold offshore, every property you own in the Caymans, every dark deed you performed for the Vales—I am exposing it all by sunrise."
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Mercer’s mask finally cracked, a bead of sweat slipping down his temple. "You wouldn't. The scandal would wipe billions off the stock valuation."
"Watch me," Sebastian said, his voice dropping to a lethal register. "If a single hair on Elena's head or my children's heads is harmed by my family, I will burn Vale Industries to ashes and dance in the ruins."
