Chapter 18 - The Secret Bloodline
Eleanor fell to her knees, screaming in pure, frantic agony as Interpol officers slapped heavy steel handcuffs onto her wrists. The proud, untouchable matriarch was reduced to a broken old woman sobbing on the cold marble floor.
"You fool!" Eleanor spat, glaring up at Declan with pure venom. "You destroyed our family legacy for a bastard child and a nobody!"
"He is not a bastard," a sharp, echoing voice spoke from the shadows of the doorway.
Everyone turned. Walking into the ruined library, supported by a cane, was an elderly man with snow-white hair and deep green eyes that matched Declan’s perfectly.
Declan froze. "Grandfather?"
It was Arthur Rowan Sr.—Declan’s maternal grandfather, who had been reported dead in a boating accident twenty years ago.
"Eleanor thought she buried me in a private asylum in Austria to take control of the family fortune," the old man said, his voice trembling with emotion as he looked at Declan and then at me. "She forged my death certificate, just like she forged your father's will."
Arthur Sr. turned his gaze to me, his eyes softening into tears. "And she spent twenty years hiding the greatest truth of all. Clara... you are not a 'nobody.'"
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I gasped, pressing James closer to my chest. "What are you talking about?"
"Your biological grandfather was Henry Caldwell—my original business partner," Arthur Sr. revealed, taking a fragile step toward me. "When Eleanor realized Henry had willed fifty-one percent of the founding shares to his unborn descendants, she orchestrated a quiet smear campaign to drive your mother into hiding. You didn't marry into the Rowan fortune, Clara. The fortune was built on your family's bloodline. James is not just an heir... he is the sole rightful owner of everything."
