Chapter 8 - The War for the Heir
The confirmation of the DNA test didn't bring immediate peace; it unleashed a storm.
By Sunday morning, news of the test had leaked within the inner circle of Albuquerque Holdings. Arthur’s younger brother, Nelson Albuquerque—a ruthless, ambitious man who had spent three years positioning his own son to inherit the executive chairmanship—arrived at the Jardins estate unannounced at 10:00 a.m.
Amanda was sitting in the formal glass conservatory with Bia when the double mahogany doors swung open with a bang.
Nelson Albuquerque swept into the room—a sharp-featured man of fifty-five, wearing an expensive silk suit, followed by two corporate lawyers carrying leather briefcases.
"Where is he?!" Nelson barked, ignoring Amanda completely as he scanned the room. "Where is Arthur?!"
"Mr. Albuquerque is in a private conference call with the board," Amanda said, standing up instantly, placing herself between Nelson and Bia, who was playing on a sheepskin rug.
Nelson stopped, looking Amanda up and down with intense, burning disdain.
"So you're the maid," Nelson sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. "The one who thinks she hit the lottery with a fake baby story."
"The DNA test was verified by Albert Einstein Hospital two hours ago, Mr. Albuquerque," Amanda replied, her voice cold and steady, refusing to back down an inch.
"DNA tests can be bought!" Nelson snapped, waving his hand dismissively. "Arthur is an old, grieving man who lost his only son! He's emotionally vulnerable! You crawled out of a basement apartment with an illegitimate child, looking for a forty-percent stake in a three-billion-dollar holding company!"
"She didn't look for anything, Nelson," a deep, icy voice echoed from the doorway.
Arthur stepped into the conservatory. He was wearing his black suit, his hand resting on the silver pocket watch in his coat pocket. Behind him stood Dr. Paulo Mendes and four armed estate security officers.
Nelson turned around, forcing a fake, concerned smile onto his sharp face. "Arthur! Thank God you're here. The board is in an uproar! Rumors are circulating that some night-shift cleaner is trying to claim Eduardo had a secret child! We need to issue an immediate press denial before the market opens in Singapore tomorrow!"
"There will be no denial, Nelson," Arthur said smoothly, walking into the room with slow, terrifying confidence.
Nelson’s fake smile vanished. "Arthur, be reasonable! Even if the child carries Eduardo's blood, her mother is an uneducated maid from Vila Madalena! You can't introduce a street child as the primary beneficiary of the Albuquerque Family Trust! The shareholders will lose confidence! My son, Gabriel, has a Harvard MBA and has served on the executive board for three years—"
"Gabriel is a incompetent parasite who spent two million dollars of company money on a failed real estate venture in Curitiba last month," Arthur cut in coldly, stopping two feet from his brother.
Nelson flushed crimson. "That was an investment—"
"That was embezzlement, Nelson," Arthur said, reaching into his pocket and tossing a thick folder onto the glass table. "I have known about Gabriel's offshore accounts for six months. I kept quiet because he carried my family name. But if you think I am going to let you or your son push my granddaughter out of her rightful legacy, you have severely underestimated what I have left to lose."
Nelson stared at the folder on the table, his breath catching in his throat. His aggressive posture melted into sheer panic.
"Arthur... we're brothers," Nelson stammered. "You can't ruin Gabriel..."
"Gabriel will resign from the board by five p.m. today," Arthur commanded, his voice echoing like iron slamming on marble. "He will surrender his stock options, and you will transfer your voting proxy to me. If you refuse, Paulo will deliver that folder to the Federal Prosecutor's office before sunset."
Nelson looked at Arthur, then at Amanda, and finally at tiny Bia, who was watching him with wide, curious eyes.
He realized he had lost completely.
Without another word, Nelson turned on his heel and stormed out of the conservatory, his lawyers scurrying behind him like frightened rats.
The room fell silent once more.
Arthur turned to Amanda. His cold, ruthless mask didn't slip, but his gray eyes were steady and clear.
"He won't bother you again," Arthur said.
Amanda looked at the billionaire, her chest heaving with lingering tension. "You used us to clear out your brother."
"I used my power to protect my family, Amanda," Arthur corrected softly. "There is a difference."
He walked over to where Bia was sitting, reached down, and effortlessly scooped the toddler up into his arms. Bia giggled, reaching out her small hand to pat Arthur’s silver hair.
Arthur didn't flinch. He held her securely against his chest, looking at Amanda with a quiet, solemn intensity.
"Tomorrow morning at eight, the Singapore board meeting convenes," Arthur said. "I am announcing the creation of the Eduardo Albuquerque Memorial Foundation, which will oversee all public housing and community park investments for the firm. Fifty percent of my personal shares will be placed into a irrevocable trust for Bia."
Amanda felt her breath lock in her throat. "And what about me?"
Arthur looked at her—taking in her fierce, protective posture, her unyielding pride, and the deep love she had for her child.
"You spent sixteen months raising my granddaughter in a basement without a single real of help," Arthur said quietly. "You worked night shifts, faced eviction, and still kept her safe, loved, and happy. You have more courage than anyone sitting in my boardroom."
Arthur took a step closer, holding Bia out toward her.
"I am offering you the position of Chief Executive Director of the Eduardo Foundation," Arthur said. "You will have a full salary, a private estate in Alto de Pinheiros, and total legal authority over Bia’s upbringing. You will never clean a floor again, Amanda. Unless you choose to."
Amanda looked at Arthur, then at her daughter, who was smiling at her from the billionaire's arms, her small dimple shining in the afternoon light.
May you like
The tears Amanda had been holding back for three days finally spilled over her cheeks—not tears of fear or desperation, but tears of pure, overwhelming relief.
"I accept," Amanda whispered.
