Chapter 14 - The Reluctant Bloodline
Ten minutes later, the heavy glass doors of the conservatory slid open.
Clara Vance—a woman in her late sixties with silver hair styled in a severe bob and wearing a heavy emerald-green velvet coat—stepped into the room. Her eyes darted around the opulent space with a mixture of disdain and calculation.
“Well,” Clara drawled, her voice sharp and brittle. “It seems the prodigal grandson has turned the family estate into a charitable commune. Aunt Eleanor would be turning in her grave.”
Jack remained seated behind the mahogany desk, his posture completely relaxed, though his gaze was as sharp as broken glass.
“Clara,” Jack said evenly. “You didn't fly across the Atlantic just to critique my interior design. What do you want?”
Clara stepped closer, pulling a weathered leather folder from her handbag and tossing it onto the desk.
“Arthur Pendelton may be in a federal cell, but he wasn't the only one pulling the strings,” Clara said, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “Your mother hid assets in European banks that the IRS hasn't touched. Millions. I can hand over the access codes, Jack... if we make an arrangement.”
Jack didn't even look at the folder. He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his chest.
“What kind of arrangement?”
“A partnership,” Clara smiled predatorily. “You reinstate my family’s voting shares in the primary trust, and I quietly vanish back to Zurich with a small, comfortable stipend. Otherwise... I release documents to the press that will drag your precious new foundation through a public PR nightmare.”
May you like
Before Jack could answer, a gentle, firm voice echoed from the doorway of the conservatory.
“You won't be releasing anything to anyone, Clara.”
