Chapter 22 - The Throne of Glass“The throne?” Claire echoed, a bitter smile touching her lips.
“Vance Manor, the Aethelgard portfolio, the controlling shares of Blackwood, Morgan, and every subsidiary from here to the coast,” Vance gestured broadly with his glass. “With a single signature tonight, you become the most powerful real estate magnate on the eastern seaboard. No more employee trusts fighting for scraps. No more architectural restoration projects dependent on charity. Absolute control.”
“And in exchange?”
“In exchange, you sit beside me, you absorb the remaining corporate debt into your foundation, and you sign away the independent litigation rights against my estate.” Vance smiled warmly, a terrifying imitation of a grandfatherly gesture. “You become the master of the machine, Claire. Exactly what your father always feared you might become.”
Claire looked at the papers resting neatly on the corner of the mahogany desk. A single pen lay beside them.
She walked slowly toward the desk, her footsteps echoing softly against the hardwood floor. She picked up the pen. Vance watched her with undisguised triumph, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of a predator who had finally cornered its prey.
Claire uncapped the pen. She looked down at the signature line.
Then, slowly, deliberately, she turned the pen around and drove the nib straight down through the contract, pinning it to the wood.
Vance flinched, standing up with surprising speed. “What are you doing?”
“My father made many mistakes,” Claire said, her voice ringing clear and steady through the glass study. “He was arrogant, he was secretive, and he tried to manage my life. But in the end, he learned something you will never understand.”
She stepped away from the desk, pulling her phone from her pocket and holding it up. The screen was lit, displaying a live video stream transmitting directly to Reyes, three federal journalists, and the legal counsel of the Thomas Morgan Foundation.
“What is that?” Vance demanded, his mask of absolute control cracking for the first time.
May you like
“A live feed,” Claire smiled coldly. “Every word you just said—about the machine, about the poison, about the orders you gave—has been streaming to federal marshals stationed at the foot of your driveway for the last ten minutes.”
Sirens began to wail outside, slicing through the storm, tearing past the security gates of Vance Manor.
Related Stories
