Chapter 46 - The Council of Spindles
"Lake Como," Eleanor breathed, her face draining of color. "The Grand Conclave of the Nine Spindles. It happens only once every twelve years."
"What is the Conclave?" I demanded, turning to her.
"The ultimate arbiters of the European textile syndicates," Eleanor said, pacing the room. "Nine old families who control the raw silk supply, the offshore luxury conglomerates, and the shadow banking systems that launder their proceeds. David Vance isn't running away to hide his crimes. He is going before the council to demand their military protection and request the formal liquidation of the Vance-Moreau estate."
"If the Conclave approves the liquidation," Julian warned, "the assets will be dispersed across hundreds of anonymous bearer accounts in the Cayman Islands within forty-eight hours. The proof will vanish. The murders of the Lyon archivists will be permanently buried under diplomatic immunity. David will walk away an untouchable king, and your mother’s death will be ruled a closed suicide."
"Then we have to stop the liquidation before the council votes," I said, my pulse racing.
"The Conclave is an impenetrable fortress, Clara," Eleanor warned. "Villa Serbelloni during the Conclave is guarded by private Swiss security teams. Nobody gets inside without an invitation, a biometric verification, and the approval of the High Arbiter."
"There is one person who has an open invitation," Julian pointed out, turning his computer screen toward us.
Displayed on the monitor was the official attendee registry for the Como Conclave, intercepted via the encrypted Swiss network. At the top of the list, reserved for the ceremonial seat of honor, was a single entry:
*The Titular Matriarch of the Vance-Moreau Dynasty.*
Beside the title was a photograph of the ancestral gown—the very dress that had started this war.
"The council doesn't know the wedding failed," Sophia whispered, her eyes widening in realization. "Because David controlled the press embargo! He told the European branches that the marriage was finalized in private, and that the new Matriarch would present herself at Lake Como to seal the transfer!"
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"They are expecting Sophia," I said, looking down at my sister. "They think the woman who walked down that aisle is arriving to claim the throne."
Sophia slowly stood up, her jaw setting in a line of determination I had never seen on her face before. "No, Clara. They aren't expecting me. They are expecting the woman in the dress."
