Chapter 23 - The Geneva Summit
Within forty-eight hours, our corporate jet touched down at Zurich-Kloten Airport under the cover of a freezing Alpine mist. Julian, my three sons, and I stepped out onto the tarmac, flanked by a secure international legal team. We weren't flying blind; Julian’s intelligence network had tracked the origin of the steel lockbox to a secluded corporate sanctuary overlooking Lake Geneva—ironically, just miles from our own estate in Switzerland.
The meeting was scheduled for midnight inside a heavily fortified medieval fortress-turned-hotel known as Schloss Klingenstein.
The grand hall was lit only by towering iron chandeliers and a roaring stone fireplace. Seated at the far end of a massive oak table was an elderly woman wrapped in a heavy velvet shawl, her posture rigid, her silver hair pulled back into an immaculate bun.
She looked up as our footsteps echoed across the stone flags. Her eyes weren't filled with Eleanor’s frantic madness, nor Ethan’s pathetic weakness. They held the cold, ancient, calculated ruthlessness of a dynasty that had survived world wars, revolutions, and market crashes.
"Katherine Vance," the woman spoke, her voice like grinding stones. "You have quite the reputation for dismantling legacy families. But you forgot one basic rule of European aristocracy: blood is a contract that never expires."
I stepped forward, my tailored cashmere coat sweeping the floor, my posture every bit as unyielding as hers. I didn't sit down. I stood tall, resting my hands on the back of an oak chair opposite her.
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"And you must be Baroness Wilhelmina Von Klingenstein," I replied smoothly, letting my voice carry effortlessly through the cavernous hall. "The silent ghost behind the Iron Crown. I received your little box. Tell me, did you mail it yourself, or did you have to hire a nurse to do it while your syndicate hides behind shell corporations?"
Wilhelmina’s thin lips twitched into a dangerous, razor-thin smile. "You have your mother’s tongue, but the strategic mind of an invader. You think because you outsmarted Eleanor and imprisoned Arthur that you own the world. But the Iron Crown financed the Montgomery fortune before Chicago was even a charted city. If you want to keep your foundation, your tech firm, and your precious sons safe from total liquidation, you will sign over sixty percent of your global holdings back to the Syndicate by sunrise."
