Chapter 3 - Blood and Boardrooms
Mei-Ling stared at the older woman, trying to process the sheer absurdity of the claim. Vanguard Global Enterprises was a multi-billion-dollar multinational conglomerate, a titan of real estate and shipping. To think of herself connected to such wealth felt like stepping onto another planet.
"Marcus?" Mei-Ling frowned, searching her memory. "Marcus Vance? The executive vice president who was just featured on the cover of Forbes magazine?"
"The very same," Eleanor said, her voice hardening with cold fury as she walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering Seattle skyline. "He’s my nephew by marriage, though he acts like he owns the world. Ever since my health started failing last year, he’s been convincing the board that I’m mentally unfit to manage the trust. If he succeeds, he takes control of everything, and your identity will be erased permanently."
"Why are you telling me this now?" Mei-Ling asked, stepping closer to the glass. "If what you say is true, I'm just a liability to you. A janitor who doesn't even know how to run a Fortune 500 company."
"Because you have your father's fire, and you have my stubbornness," Eleanor turned, her eyes burning with fierce determination. "And because Marcus is holding a secret meeting downstairs right now to vote me out as chairperson. I need you to walk into that boardroom with me."
"Walk in there? As what? Your charity case?" Mei-Ling shook her head vigorously. "I don't belong in a boardroom. Look at me! I smell like industrial bleach."
"You belong wherever you choose to stand," Eleanor said, stepping right up to Mei-Ling and placing the heavy jade pendant directly into her palm. The stone was cool against her skin, yet it sent a strange, warming current straight up her arm. "Put it on. Take off that uniform jacket. It's time to claim what belongs to the Vance family."
Mei-Ling looked down at the jade, her thumb tracing the familiar intricate carvings. Every instinct screamed at her to run back down to the lobby, grab her cart, and pretend none of this had ever happened. But as she thought of the years of struggle, the empty Christmases, and the quiet desperation of her solitary life, a dangerous curiosity took root.
"If I do this," Mei-Ling whispered, her eyes locking onto Eleanor's, "we do it my way. No more hiding."
Before Eleanor could answer, the heavy oak doors of the boardroom swung open without warning. Marcus Vance stood in the doorway, an expensive tailored suit framing his tall, athletic frame, a cold smirk plastered across his handsome face.
May you like
"Auntie," Marcus drawled, his eyes sliding over Mei-Ling with undisguised contempt. "Still hiring strange staff to keep you company? The board is waiting downstairs, and frankly, your little theatrics are getting old."
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