Chapter 4 - The Matriarch's Mask
Arthur stood up slowly from his seat at the head of the table. He stood six-foot-two, his broad shoulders squared, his presence completely filling the space between his mother and his daughters.
"Mother," Arthur said, his tone colder than the winter wind outside. "You're back early from Palm Beach."
"I came back the moment Thomas called the main security team to report that you were bringing street urchins into the Manor," Victoria said, refusing to look directly at the girls. She tossed her gloves onto the side table. "Look at them. They look like vagrants. Who authorized this?"
"I did," Arthur said flatly. "They are my daughters."
Victoria let out a short, aristocratic laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Don't be ridiculous, Arthur. Elise died eight years ago. Whatever scheme these children’s handlers are running, it ends today. David," she turned to the attorney, "call the police and have them removed for trespassing."
David Sterling did not move. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, Mrs. Vance. The DNA results from the clinic arrived an hour ago. They are ninety-nine point nine percent a match to Arthur."
Victoria’s hands tightened around her gold handbag, but her face remained a mask of iron discipline.
"A clinic in the slums?" Victoria scoffed. "Tests can be bought. Records can be falsified. Richard Green’s family has been leeching off our name for a decade!"
Clara stood up from her chair.
She walked past Arthur, stepping around the large oak table until she was standing five feet away from the grand matriarch of the Vance family. Despite wearing an oversized sweater and soft fleece pants that were too long for her legs, Clara held her head high.
"You have a mark on your left wrist," Clara said, pointing at Victoria’s sleeve. "A scar shaped like a crescent moon."
Victoria’s eyes flicked down to her wrist in shock. "What?"
"Mom told us about you," Clara said, her gray eyes unblinking. "She said you wore emerald rings that were cold when you touched her hand. She said you told her that a girl who washed dishes in a diner would never be allowed to give birth to a Vance heir."
The room went dead silent.
Anne and Sophie stood up from the table as well, walking over to stand on either side of Clara. Three identical faces, three identical pairs of gray eyes, all staring at the woman who had tried to erase their existence.
"She remembered," Anne said softly. "She remembered everything you said to her in the hospital room in Zurich before you made her leave."
Victoria’s composure cracked for a fraction of a second. A pale flicker of fear crossed her face before she restored her sneer.
"This is absurd," Victoria spat. "Arthur, you are allowing these street children to insult your mother!"
"No," Arthur said, walking over and placing his hands firmly on his daughters' shoulders. "I am listening to my children tell the truth."
He turned to David Sterling. "David, prepare an immediate order of eviction for my mother. She is to vacate the Vance Manor by five o'clock today."
Victoria gasped, her pearl necklace bouncing against her chest. "Eviction?! You are throwing your own mother out of her family home?!"
"This is my home," Arthur said, his eyes burning with absolute determination. "It was left to me in my father’s will. You have five hours to pack your personal items, Victoria. If you are still here when the sun sets, my security team will escort you off the property."
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"You will regret this, Arthur!" Victoria hissed, her voice trembling with fury as she turned on her heel. "Richard Green won't sit quietly! He owns the legal rights to Elise’s estate!"
"Let him try," Arthur said quietly as the heavy doors slammed shut behind her.
