Chapter 5 - The Reading of Article Nine
A collective, gasping roar rippled through the ballroom.
Reporters scrambled over one another to lift their telephoto lenses; society matrons clutched their pearls; and Arthur Sterling’s face turned the color of a bruised plum as he rounded on his daughter, his voice rising in fury: “Clarissa! What did you know about this?!”
Clarissa didn't answer. She buried her face in her hands, trembling violently as the flashbulbs illuminated her public ruin.
Eleanor descended the three carpeted steps of the dais, her emerald gown rustling like dry autumn leaves, her diamond choker rising and falling with her frantic, shallow breathing. Her eyes locked onto Owen’s face, then flicked to Ivy, then to Noah.
The color drained from her skin so completely she looked like a marble statue in an abandoned cemetery.
“No,” Eleanor hissed, her voice dropping into a vicious, cornered whisper that didn't care about the cameras. “No, this is a fraud! A cheap, disgusting shakedown! You found some stray woman with three surrogate bastards to break the Sterling merger!”
“Be careful, Mother,” Sebastian said, his voice dropping into a register so cold the air in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. “You are speaking about the legitimate great-grandchildren of Thomas Vale.”
Julian Vance stepped forward from the flank of our security detail, opening his green morocco leather binder and holding up a certified, red-waxed document bearing the gold seal of the New York County Surrogate’s Court.
“For the benefit of the press and the assembled board members,” Julian announced, his voice booming effortlessly through the vaulted hall, “I am reading from the verified testamentary decree of Thomas Vale, registered on October twelfth, twenty-twenty.”
Julian adjusted his glasses, looking directly at Eleanor.
“Article Nine, Section Four: The existence of biological issue born to Sebastian Vale within a lawful marriage constitutes an immediate, unappealable revocation of all provisional administrative powers granted to Eleanor Vale.”
Julian turned the page with a crisp, papery rustle.
“Furthermore, pursuant to the emergency paternity certification executed at Mount Sinai Hospital three hours ago using cord blood records and Sebastian Vale’s certified genetic profile... paternity has been established at ninety-nine point nine-nine percent certainty.”
Eleanor swayed on her feet, grabbing the edge of a banquet table to keep from collapsing onto the floor.
“Cord blood...?” she whispered, her voice cracking.
“I saved the registry records, Eleanor,” I said, stepping forward until I stood three feet from the woman who had spent four years trying to erase my existence.
“When my babies were in the NICU, I registered their genetic profiles with the National Health Registry under my maiden name. I knew who their father was. I knew the power of the family they belonged to. And I made sure that if anything ever happened to me, their heritage could never be erased by a forged signature or a stolen letter.”
Eleanor stared at me. For the first time in her life, the great society matriarch was looking at a woman she couldn't buy, couldn't intimidate, and couldn't dismiss.
“You...” Eleanor snarled, her fingers clawing at the linen tablecloth, overturning a vase of white calla lilies. “You were a nobody! A scholarship student from Ohio! You had no right to enter this family!”
“She didn't enter this family, Mother,” Sebastian said, stepping between Eleanor and me, his hand resting protectively over my shoulder.
“She saved it. And as of eight o'clock tonight, you are no longer the chairwoman of Vale International.”
He looked toward the security doors at the side of the ballroom, where two uniformed officers from the New York City Police Department’s Special Investigations Division stood waiting.
“Captain Miller,” Sebastian called out. “Please escort Mrs. Eleanor Vale and Mr. Marcus Vance to the district precinct. The district attorney has issued arrest warrants for conspiracy to commit corporate fraud, interstate wire fraud, and the attempted poisoning of Thomas Vale.”
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The room erupted into total, unmitigated pandemonium.
Flashbulbs exploded in a blinding wall of white light as two detectives walked down the center aisle, displaying their badges, while Eleanor screamed incoherent curses into the air, her designer dress trailing in the spilled champagne as they led her out through the service corridor.
