Chapter 5 - The Snake in the Glass House
By midnight, the penthouse had become the tactical nerve center of an economic war.
Through the double doors of the study, I could hear Sebastian shouting commands to his legal executives, investment bankers, and private investigators. Teams of forensic accountants were working through the night, ripping through fifty years of Vale family financial records to locate every hidden asset Arthur Vale had ever touched.
I sat in the kitchen, sipping warm tea, unable to sleep. The children were sound asleep in the adjacent bedroom, protected by two female security officers stationed right outside their door.
"You should rest, Mrs. Vale," Marcus, Sebastian's chief of staff, said as he walked into the kitchen to grab a fresh mug of espresso.
"Don't call me that," I said quietly. "We're divorced."
"Legally, no," Marcus said, pausing as he held the coffee pot.
I looked up, startled. "What?"
"The divorce papers you signed four years ago?" Marcus smiled thinly. "Sebastian never filed them with the state clerk. He kept them in his personal safe. He refused to let the marriage be officially dissolved, even when his grandfather produced that fake death certificate. In the eyes of the State of New York, you are still Sebastian Vale’s legal wife."
My heart did a strange, violent leap in my chest. "He... he kept the papers?"
"He threatened to shoot the judge who tried to process the administrative separation," Marcus revealed, taking a sip of his coffee. "Sebastian spent four years acting like a dead man walking, Mrs. Vale. The marriage with Clarissa Hart was entirely structured by Arthur to save Vale Holdings from a hostile takeover by European investors. Sebastian only agreed to the engagement three weeks ago because Arthur promised to transfer the remaining ten percent of voting shares to him upon the wedding day."
"He was going to marry her just to get the shares?"
"He was going to take the shares, use them to strip Arthur of his executive power, and then cancel the wedding at the altar," Marcus corrected smoothly. "Sebastian plays chess six moves ahead of everyone else. The only thing he didn't account for... was you being alive."
Before I could answer, the security panel on the wall began to flash red. A sharp, rhythmic pulsing alarm began to sound through the kitchen.
Marcus dropped his coffee mug. It shattered against the white marble floor.
"Security team, report!" Marcus shouted into his lapel microphone, sprinting toward the hallway.
The private elevator doors didn't slide open—they were overridden from the basement levels. The steel doors burst open, and six men in tactical military gear stepped out, armed with silenced submachine guns.
Leading them was a tall, elderly man in a bespoke three-piece pinstripe suit, leaning heavily on a silver-headed cane. His skin was paper-thin and liver-spotted, but his pale gray eyes were sharp, cold, and entirely devoid of human empathy.
Arthur Vale had arrived.
"Where is my grandson?" Arthur asked, his voice a raspy, papery whisper that somehow cut through the blaring security alarm.
"Arthur," Marcus pulled a concealed firearm from his holster, but before he could raise it, one of the tactical guards slammed the butt of his rifle into Marcus's temple. Marcus dropped to the floor, unconscious, blood pooling from his forehead.
I backed up into the kitchen, grabbing a heavy chef’s knife from the wooden block on the counter. My blood ran cold, my breath hitching in my throat as Arthur Vale walked slowly into the kitchen, his cane clicking rhythmically against the tile floor.
May you like
He stopped ten feet away from me, his ancient eyes scanning my face with a mixture of mild annoyance and profound disgust.
"You always were a stubborn little weed, Maya," Arthur said softly. "I paid a doctor three hundred thousand dollars to tell me you died in that clinic. It seems good help is impossible to find these days."
