Chapter 4: Cracks in the Pedestal
Julian sat in his luxury hotel suite overlooking the Garonne River, the city lights shimmering on the dark water. On the glass coffee table lay his life: his corporate contracts, his diamond engagement ring box for Claire, and the faded black-and-white photograph of Marc and Hélène Vaneau.
Claire sat on the arm of the sofa, watching him anxiously. "Julian, you have to be rational. Arthur Laurent is eighty-two years old and in failing health. He made you his primary heir. If you bring up thirty-year-old accusations based on an old woman’s memories, the board will remove you before the merger closes."
"She knew the taste, Claire," Julian said, his voice quiet, cold, and razor-sharp. "Do you know what my earliest memory was? Waking up in a cold dorm, crying because I couldn't remember what my mother’s hands smelled like. Today, the second that pastry touched my tongue, thirty years of darkness vanished."
"What are you going to do?" Claire asked, her tone laced with fear. "Arthur controls the banks, the media, the legal teams."
"I took a DNA swab from Hélène’s teacup," Julian replied, pulling a sealed plastic vial from his pocket. "I’m flying our private courier to Paris tonight for an expedited match. If she is my mother, Arthur Laurent didn't just steal my name. He turned me into the weapon protecting his stolen wealth."
His phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with an incoming video call from London.
*Caller ID: Arthur Laurent.*
Julian stared at the vibrating screen. For twenty years, he had answered that call with absolute reverence. Now, his thumb hesitated above the green button. When he swiped to answer, the gaunt, patrician face of Arthur Laurent appeared on the screen, breathing through an oxygen cannula.
May you like
"Julian," the old man wheezed, his pale blue eyes scrutinizing Julian’s demeanor. "My assistants tell me you walked out of the vineyard closing. Is there a problem in Bordeaux?"
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