Chapter 27 - The Monaco Summons
The Mediterranean sparkled like scattered diamonds beneath the wing of the Gulfstream as we began our descent into Nice. Across the bay, the iconic cliffs of Monaco rose in sheer limestone walls, crowned by royal palaces, luxury yachts, and centuries of untouchable wealth.
For generations, the Valmont Dynasty had ruled this tax haven from behind gilded doors, pulling the strings of global real estate and financing corporate empires through sovereign shadows. They believed their wealth rendered them immune to justice.
They had never met Julian Vance’s daughter.
By eleven in the morning, our motorcade pulled up to the Grand Sovereign Palace of Monte Carlo. Maya walked beside me carrying our titanium evidence cases, while Eleanor Hayes, dressed in commanding midnight velvet, commanded instant respect from the royal guards at the palace gates.
Ethan had insisted on remaining in the city to oversee the security of Pier 12 and coordinate with the maritime police, ensuring Marcus’s remaining domestic assets were locked down tight. We moved as a coordinated force across continents.
We entered the Salle des Princes—a breathtaking hall of gilded mirrors, crystal chandeliers, and vaulted ceilings depicting royal conquests. Seated on an elevated mahogany dais were the seven sovereign councilors of the Principality, presided over by Lord Chancellor Renard.
Sitting at the defense table across the aisle was Lord Marcus Valmont.
Marcus looked like a refined predator in his bespoke navy double-breasted suit. His dark hair was slicked back, his expression brimming with aristocratic contempt. Beside him sat three high-ranking European defense attorneys.
When I walked down the center aisle, his eyes narrowed, cold and dismissive.
"Welcome, Miss Ava Vance," Lord Chancellor Renard spoke, his gavel striking the sounding block with a resonant thud. "This emergency sovereign session has been called to determine the validity of the Vance-Valmont Trust and to examine grave accusations of corporate treason and murder levied against Lord Marcus Valmont."
Marcus Valmont leaned forward, offering a patronizing chuckle. "Lord Chancellor, this proceeding is a farce. An American municipal architect with an overactive imagination and forged papers from a derelict harbor wall cannot challenge the sovereign nobility of Monaco."
I stepped up to the podium, placing my hands firmly on the polished wood. I didn't look at Marcus. I looked directly into the eyes of the seven councilors.
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"I am not here as an American architect, Lord Chancellor," I declared, my voice ringing clear and melodious through the gilded hall. "I am here as the fifty-one percent majority owner of the Valmont Sovereign Trust. And I have brought the receipts that your own dynasty signed in blood."
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