CHAPTER 3
Mara blinked, a sudden shadow of confusion passing over her young face as she registered the cold, transactional tone in her father's voice.
"Wait, Dad," Mara hesitated, taking a step toward Victor while nervously folding her arms across her chest. "You said we were signing the voting share transfers together at the lawyer's office tomorrow morning."
Victor let out a soft, condescending chuckle, swirling the ice in his glass without making eye contact with our daughter.
"Voting shares?" Victor asked, raising an eyebrow as if she had spoken an absurd joke in a foreign language. "Mara, darling, you're twenty-two years old with zero corporate experience; you don't actually think the board of directors would allow a child to hold voting power in a multi-billion-dollar maritime logistics firm, do you?"
Celeste let out a sharp, mocking snort from the kitchen counter, crossing her legs as she leaned against the marble island.
"Your father worked far too hard securing Hale Global Shipping to hand over control to a college dropout who couldn't even manage her own allowance," Celeste added smoothly, her eyes glittering with pure, cruel amusement.
Mara’s jaw dropped in absolute shock, her face draining of color as she looked between Victor and his mistress like a person who had just stepped onto thin ice.
"But... but you promised me!" Mara gasped, her voice trembling violently as reality began to shatter her naive expectations. "You said if I helped you prove Mom was unstable after the fire, I would get her corner office and fifteen percent of the company stock!"
"I said what was necessary to ensure you did the right thing for this family, Mara," Victor replied coldly, setting his glass down on the wooden side table with a sharp, decisive click. "Now go get the paperwork before I decide to reconsider your monthly trust fund allowance as well."
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I remained quiet on the floor, watching my daughter's tear-filled eyes finally open to the brutal truth of the man she had sacrificed her own mother to please.
The remote control in my hand vibrated twice against my palm—a subtle, haptic feedback signal confirming that forty percent of the evidence archive had successfully cleared the federal firewall.
