You’ll only embarrass me wearing that dress. / Chapter 56 / 70

Chapter 56 - Unmasking the Serpent

Directors leaped from their seats. Montgomery’s face drained of every ounce of color. "Helena? What nonsense is this? This is Victoria Vance!"

The veiled woman remained entirely still. Then, slowly, with an elegance that was chillingly deliberate, gloved hands reached up and pulled back the black lace veil.

The face revealed was breathtakingly identical to the oil portraits of Phoebe’s late mother, Eleanor Harrell—save for the cruel, thin line of her mouth and the cold, unfeeling malice in her eyes.

"You always were too perceptive for your own good, little niece," Helena said, her voice smooth, cultured, and devoid of warmth. "Just like your pathetic mother. She thought she could take the Harrell crown and leave me in the shadows. Look where it got her. In a grave. And look where it has brought you."

"Your reign ends today, Helena," Ethan snarled, taking a measured step forward. Every muscle in his body burned with agony, the fresh surgical stitches straining against his suit, but his posture didn't waver by a single millimeter. "We have the Swiss unsealed vaults. We have the genetic ciphers. We have Arthur Vance's handwritten confession proving you stole the identity of Victoria Vance after sabotaging flight 402."

Helena let out a soft, mocking laugh that sent chills down the spines of the assembled billionaires.

"Do you really think this is about corporate shares, Ethan?" Helena asked, tilting her head. "Do you truly believe I spent twenty-four years training you, breaking you, molding you into the most ruthless corporate butcher in Europe, just for a boardroom seat?"

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. "You built me to destroy the Harrells."

"I built you to destroy yourself," Helena hissed, her eyes gleaming with psychotic fervor. "You are Marcus Vance’s son. The man who rejected me for your mother. Every time I looked at your face, I saw Marcus. Every time I ordered you into a corporate war, I hoped you would drown in it. But instead... you survived. You thrived. And then you dared to fall in love with her daughter."

Helena slammed her palms onto the mahogany table, rising to her feet. "Do you think you can simply walk into my boardroom with papers and arrest me? Look around you, Phoebe! The board belongs to Leviathan! Every institutional fund in this room has signed their proxies to me!"

"Check your terminals, Helena," Phoebe countered smoothly, not blinking, not backing down an inch.

Helena’s smile faltered.

Across the room, smartphones and trading tablets began buzzing simultaneously. A low murmur of panic swept through the directors.

"What is this?" Director Campbell shouted, staring at his monitor. "The Leviathan Trust... it's being liquidated! All European assets are being frozen by Interpol!"

Phoebe stepped closer, her heels clicking rhythmically against the marble floor. "While Ethan and I were flying from Florence to London, Julian wasn't just managing our flight path. He was executing the Obsidian Counter-Protocol. We didn't freeze your accounts, Helena. We handed over forty years of your money laundering logs to the Swiss Federal Banking Commission, the United States Department of Justice, and the British Serious Fraud Office."

Phoebe leaned over the table, her face inches from her aunt's. "You aren't a matriarch anymore. You aren't a billionaire. You are an international fugitive whose face is broadcasting on every financial news network on Earth."

"You little bitch," Helena snarled, her aristocratic composure completely shattering. Her hand darted into her designer handbag.

*Click.*

Julian’s gun was out before she could clear the zipper. The cold muzzle of Julian's .45 pressed firmly against Helena's forehead.