Chapter 3 - The Senator’s Threat
Senator Arthur Hastings pushed his way through the crowd, his face dark with suppressed fury. He stood between his daughter and me, radiating the aggressive power of a man used to bending entire legislative bodies to his will.
"This is an outrage!" Senator Hastings pointed a manicured finger directly at my chest. "We will not have our family name dragged through the mud by some common opportunist staging a publicity stunt! Ethan, control your—your ex-wife, or there will be consequences you cannot possibly imagine."
Ethan finally found his voice, though it sounded hollow and cracked. He staggered down from the altar, ignoring Caroline’s sharp, warning gasp. "Maya..." Ethan whispered, staring down at the triplets, his gray eyes wide with shock and dawning horror. "Are... are those..."
"Yes, Ethan," I said coldly, cutting him off before he could utter a single pathetic syllable of regret. "They are yours. Not that you ever cared to look for them. You were too busy signing papers and playing the obedient little son while your mother poisoned our home."
"Ethan Montgomery!" Caroline screamed from the altar, marching down the steps in her multi-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown, her eyes blazing. "If you take one step closer to that woman and those children, the wedding is off! My father will destroy you, your family, and every single business venture you have left!"
The courtyard descended into absolute chaos. Half the guests were filming on their smartphones; others were frantically whispering to their spouses, realizing the monumental political and financial scandal unfolding before them.
Eleanor recovered her composure with terrifying speed. She straightened her posture, her eyes cold as winter ice. "You think a few forged documents and clever corporate raiding give you power here, Maya? You are nothing. You grew up in a working-class suburb with nothing to your name. You think dressing these boys up in rented tuxedos makes them Montgomerys? Blood requires lineage. Lineage requires marriage. And you were discarded like old garbage."
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I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to. I reached into my emerald clutch, pulled out a thick manila envelope, and tossed it carelessly onto a nearby table laden with wedding gifts.
"Open it, Eleanor," I said softly. "That's not corporate raiding. That's a court-ordered DNA injunction, signed this morning by a federal judge, freezing all inheritance distribution until paternal lineage is officially verified in a court of law. And until that happens... not a single penny of the Montgomery trust moves anywhere."
