Chapter 12 - Bloodline and Blackmail
Gordon Blackwell didn't flinch. He walked slowly around the perimeter of the table, his heavy steps pacing the heartbeat of the room.
"When your father developed the Vance-Blackwell cellular regeneration sequence thirty years ago, Elena," Gordon said, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that burned through the mist, "he didn't do it in a university lab. He did it on a floating research vessel funded by Victoria’s family. When he realized what they intended to do with it—monopolize medical longevity for an elite circle of five families while patent-locking it from the general public—he stole the biological seed cultures and disappeared."
"He stole what was ours," Victoria snapped, her aristocratic mask cracking for a split second. "Your father was a hired mind. He was paid twenty million dollars to sequence the enzyme. Instead, he hid the master key in the non-coding DNA of his own bloodline."
The room seemed to tilt on its axis.
"What did you say?" I whispered.
"Your father knew they would hunt him down," Gordon explained, his voice thick with emotion. "So he engineered the final synthetic catalyst using his own genetic markers. Without the biological presence of a direct descendant, the compound degrades into worthless saline within forty-eight hours of extraction. When your father died, that biological key passed to you."
"And from you," Colette added, leaning forward with predatory relish, "to Eli."
The floor felt as though it were falling away. Julian sliding those papers across the kitchen island. Julian demanding full custody of Eli in the preliminary hearings. Julian trying to force me to sign away guardianship.
It was never about child support. It was never about pride.
"You wanted Eli," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying a vibration that made Colette’s smug smile falter. "You didn't want my father’s notes. You wanted my son’s marrow."
"He wouldn't have been harmed," Victoria said smoothly, waving a manicured hand. "A simple quarterly biological harvest. Five million dollars deposited into an offshore trust every year. A life of unimaginable luxury for both of you. But Julian botched the psychological pressure campaign. He was too clumsy, too greedy. He let you find the offshore accounts before he secured the boy."
Victoria stood up, leaning her ivory cane against the table. "We now hold forty-one percent of the complex’s sovereign debt. Sign over parental guardianship to the St. Claire Medical Trust by midnight, Elena. In exchange, Gordon keeps his freedom, Julian rots in prison, and Eli lives like an emperor."
"And if I refuse?" I asked, stepping forward until I was standing inches from the matriarch.
Victoria smiled, a cold, reptile grin. "Look out the window, Elena."
I glanced through the rain-streaked glass. Down on the pier, next to Gordon’s private security perimeter, three unmarked black government vans had just cut the locks off the perimeter gates. Armed federal marshals wearing tactical windbreakers were pouring out, brandishing emergency court orders.
May you like
"An emergency protective custody order issued by the Supreme Court of British Columbia," Colette purred. "Signed by a judge who happens to sit on the board of our foundation. Eli has already been escorted out of your penthouse suite, Elena. He is currently waiting in the VIP lounge at Vancouver International Airport."
***
