Chapter 3
The suffocating silence in the grand ballroom was broken only by Clara’s quiet, rhythmic sniffing against Elena’s shoulder. Elena glared up at Arthur, her jaw clenched so tightly her teeth ached. She slowly set Clara down, keeping one arm firmly around the child's waist, and stood up to face the patriarch. The gold sequined fabric of her dress shimmered violently as she shifted her weight, a beacon of defiance in a sea of cowards.
“Give me the paper,” Elena demanded, holding out a shaking hand.
Arthur gave a thin, humorless smile and motioned to a lawyer standing near the edge of the crowd. The man nervously stepped forward, handing over a thick leather-bound folder. Elena snatched it from his grip, her eyes scanning the dense legal jargon under the harsh camera lights. The smartphones around them were still recording every twitch of her face, capturing her rising panic for public consumption.
“What is this?” Elena whispered, her voice cracking as her eyes hit the middle of page four.
“It’s the trust amendment,” Arthur said, descending the final steps. “When my son, your late husband, passed away, his shares were placed in a conditional trust. Clause twelve explicitly states that if you or your dependent violate Vance household rules, full custody reverts to the corporate board—namely, me.”
Elena felt the blood drain entirely from her face. The room seemed to tilt sideways. “You rigged this. You planned this entire thing just to steal my daughter from me.”
“I secured the future of the enterprise,” Arthur corrected coldly. “Clara is a Vance. She will be raised with Vance discipline, not your bleeding-heart sentimentality. She stays here in the estate. You, however, are free to walk out those doors whenever you choose.”
Clara heard these words and let out a terrified cry, grabbing handfuls of Elena’s gold dress. “Mommy, don't leave me! Please don't let them take me!”
Elena dropped back to her knees, burying her face in Clara’s wet hair, tears finally spilling over her lashes. She looked up at Arthur with pure hatred.
“I will fight you in every court in this country,” Elena vowed softly.
May you like
Arthur simply smiled, stepping past them toward the exit. “You can try, Elena. But our lawyers own the courts.”
***
