Chapter 12 - The Ice Queen Returns
Eleanor Rowan was not merely a mother; she was a ghost that haunted the entire international banking system. Ten years ago, after Declan’s father died under mysterious circumstances, Eleanor had vanished into the aristocratic high society of Switzerland, relinquishing her public roles but retaining a hidden, terrifying grip on the Rowan Family Matriarch Trust.
Before Declan could even call Marcus to trace the delivery, three black armored Mercedes sedans pulled up along our quiet tree-lined street.
Four private security guards in sharp charcoal suits stepped out, securing the perimeter of my front lawn. Then, the door to the center vehicle opened, and a woman stepped into the summer sunlight.
She looked as though she had been carved from marble. Eleanor Rowan was in her early sixties, with flawless, pale skin, hair silvered to perfection, and piercing ice-blue eyes that swept across my modest cottage with utter disgust.
"So this is where the great Declan Rowan hid himself," Eleanor said, her voice like glass scraping against stone as she stepped over my threshold uninvited. "In a suburban shack with a common girl and a secret bastard."
Declan immediately placed himself between Eleanor and me, his body rigid as iron. "Get out of this house, Eleanor. You have no standing here."
"I have every standing, my son," Eleanor said, pulling a leather document folder from her leather handbag. "You were so busy playing hero against Julian and Arthur Vance that you forgot to read the primary founding charter of the Rowan Banking Dynasty. A charter written in 1892."
She opened the folder and tossed a document onto the coffee table. "Any child born of the primary male heir must be presented to the Geneva Board within eight months of birth for dynamic lineage verification. If the mother is not of aristocratic blood or approved by the Matriarch, legal custody of the child automatically transfers to the European Family Council."
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I felt my blood turn to ice. "You can't take my son," I snapped, stepping forward, my eyes blazing with fury. "No antique charter from the nineteenth century overrides American law!"
Eleanor turned her cold blue eyes to me, a cruel, mocking smile playing on her lips. "American courts are easily bought, my dear. But Swiss banking law operates on bloodline treaties that predate your entire country. You have forty-eight hours to hand James over for his integration... or I will strip Declan of every asset he owns and brand you an international kidnapper."
