Chapter 4 - THE SHADOW IN THE BOARDROOM
The aftermath of the Lake Geneva wedding crash broke the internet within two hours.
A guest's secret video recording of Eleanor’s champagne glass shattering, combined with my revelation as the true owner of the estate, went viral across TikTok, Twitter, and every major news outlet. Headlines burned across the financial press:
"TECH TYCOON C.V. VANCE UNMASKED AT EX-HUSBAND'S WEDDING: BUYS OUT MONTGOMERY ESTATE MID-CEREMONY" "THE MONTGOMERY DYNASTY COLLAPSES: POLITICIANS FLEE, DEBT CALLED IN BY SECRET HEIRESS"
For the next three days, I kept my boys tucked safely away at our private estate in Lake Forest, far from the swarming paparazzi. My triplets thought the whole thing was an grand adventure—they were more excited about the private indoor pool and their new Lego sets than the fact that their mother had shattered one of the oldest bloodlines in Chicago.
On Tuesday morning, I sat in the glass-walled boardroom on the 50th floor of the Vance Digital Tower in downtown Chicago.
Marcus walked in, dropping a thick manila folder onto the mahogany table. "Ethan has tried to call your office forty-two times today," Marcus reported smoothly. "His mother tried to visit the building, but security turned her away at the lobby. She threatened to call the police, so we showed her the trespassing order on the Lake Geneva estate. She left in tears."
"And the Montgomery Holdings stock?" I asked, sipping my black coffee.
"Down 68% since Sunday," Marcus smiled faintly. "Senator Hastings publicly withdrew all political ties and launched an ethics investigation into Ethan's real estate firm. The board of Montgomery Holdings is holding an emergency meeting at 2:00 PM today to remove Ethan as CEO."
I leaned back in my leather chair, looking out at the Chicago skyline. Revenge was supposed to feel sweet, but looking at the destruction of the man I had once loved, I felt only a cold, methodical clarity.
"They brought this on themselves, Marcus," I said softly. "They thought poor people were disposable. They thought a mother fighting for her children was weak."
Suddenly, my desk phone rang. It was my executive assistant, Sarah.
"Mrs. Vance," Sarah’s voice sounded tense, almost alarmed. "There is a man here to see you. He doesn't have an appointment, but... he bypassed second-floor security using an executive override key."
I frowned, glancing at Marcus, who immediately placed his hand on his concealed sidearm. "Who is it, Sarah?"
"He says his name is Richard Montgomery," Sarah whispered. "Ethan’s estranged uncle. The one who disappeared twenty years ago."
My pulse spiked slightly. Richard Montgomery. The black sheep of the family. The elder brother of Ethan’s deceased father, who was erased from the family history after a bitter feud with Eleanor decades ago.
"Let him in," I said.
The heavy frosted-glass doors pushed open. An older man walked in. He looked to be in his early sixties, dressed not in the flashy, pristine suits Ethan wore, but in a tailored, dark charcoal coat that screamed subtle, unfathomable wealth. His hair was silver, and his eyes—a striking, sharp gray—looked remarkably like my sons'.
He walked in without fear, his cane clicking lightly against the hardwood floor. He looked around my massive office, then turned his gaze toward me.
"Claire Vance," Richard Montgomery said, a faint, intriguing smile pulling at his lips. "Or should I say, the woman who did in thirty minutes what I've been trying to do to Eleanor for twenty years."
"Mr. Montgomery," I said cautiously, remaining standing. "To what do I owe the honor? If you're here to defend your family—"
"Defend them?" Richard chuckled, a dry, dark sound. "My dear girl, I came here to hire you. Or rather... to offer you a partnership."
He sat down in the armchair opposite my desk without waiting for an invitation, leaning his hands on his silver-headed cane.
"You bought thirty percent of Montgomery Holdings' debt," Richard said, his eyes gleaming with dangerous intelligence. "Which makes you powerful. But it doesn't give you voting control over the family trust. Eleanor still holds fifty-one percent of the voting shares. She is desperate, Claire. And a desperate viper bites."
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"What are you saying?" I asked.
"I'm saying," Richard leaned forward, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper, "Eleanor isn't just planning to fight you in court for those boys. She just met with the head of a private security firm in New York. She is planning to fabricate evidence of child endangerment against you, use her remaining judge contacts to issue an emergency protective custody order, and physically snatch those triplets from your home by Friday."
