Chapter 27 - The Banquet of the North
The celebration that night inside the great dining hall of Inverness Manor was nothing short of legendary. Long oak tables groaned under the weight of roasted highland game, artisanal cheeses, smoked salmon from the estate’s private lochs, and casks of aged scotch whiskey that had been sealed before I was even born.
Barges of local weavers, artisans, and community leaders had gathered in the courtyard, their bagpipes filling the crisp highland air with a wild, triumphant melody that echoed across the dark, crashing waves of the North Sea.
Sitting at the head of the long banquet table, flanked by David, Margaret Sterling, and old Arthur Vance, I looked out over the sea of smiling, weather-beaten faces. Chloe was sitting beside me, happily devouring a massive slice of Scottish shortbread while drawing pictures of bagpipes in her notebook.
"To the matriarch of Inverness," Arthur Vance announced, rising to his feet and lifting a crystal glass of amber scotch. His eyes shone with unshed tears of pride. "To Clara, who proved that no matter how hard the world tries to unravel you, a true weaver always builds a stronger pattern from the broken threads."
The entire hall erupted in cheers. Dozens of crystal glasses clinked together in a chorus of celebration. David leaned over, pressing a tender kiss to my temple, his arm wrapped securely around my waist.
"We did it, babe," he whispered softly against my ear. "Victoria is finished, the corporate raiders are broken, and you own an empire."
"We didn't just win a lawsuit, David," I replied, looking down at the crimson thread bracelet tied around my wrist. "We reclaimed our legacy."
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the banquet hall swung open. The music faltered for a fraction of a second.
A figure stepped out of the shadows of the stone entryway.
It was Victoria.
May you like
She looked entirely unraveled. Her designer coat was torn at the hem, her face was devoid of makeup, and her eyes were wild, bloodshot, and desperate. She had bypassed airport security, hitchhiked across the Highlands, and walked miles through the freezing fog just to reach the manor.
"You think you’ve won?" Victoria shrieked, her voice cracking hysterically as she pointed a shaking finger directly at me from across the massive hall. "You think a dusty old castle and a bunch of peasants in skirts is going to save you? Julian has already filed federal wire fraud charges in New York! He’s going to strip every asset you have left!"
