Chapter 18 - The Dark Secret in Eleanor’s Will
“Always dictating terms, aren't you, Julian?” Evelyn mocked, stepping down the stairs with that familiar, theatrical swagger that once seduced high society. “You think you hold the cards because you brought the matriarch? Let’s see how much she’s worth when the truth comes out.” With a snap of Victoria’s fingers, two masked mercenaries dragged Maria out onto the porch balcony, her hands bound to the railing, a remote-detonated explosive collar blinking red against her throat.
Eleanor stepped out of the passenger seat, leaning on her walking cane with immense dignity, her head held high against the freezing wind. “Release the girl, Evelyn,” Eleanor spoke, her voice carrying clear and powerful across the gravel courtyard. “Your fight is with me and the memory of Julian’s father. Maria has no part in this blood feud.” Victoria stepped forward, her scarred face twisting in bitter rage as she pointed her rifle straight at Eleanor’s heart.
“You stole our birthright!” Victoria screamed, her composure finally breaking under the weight of lifelong vengeance. “Your husband starved our mother in an asylum while you raised Julian in gold-leafed mansions and private jets! We were born into destitution while you paraded around Manhattan charity balls pretending to be a saint!” Eleanor shook her head slowly, stepping closer despite Julian’s desperate attempt to hold her back.
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“Your mother was never starved, Victoria,” Eleanor revealed, her voice filled with profound sorrow rather than anger. “Your father, Thomas Blackwood, didn't commit suicide because of a business deal; he embezzled fifty million dollars from his own family trust to fund a human trafficking ring through his shipping lines. My husband covered up the truth to spare you two girls the public shame, and he established a blind trust of twenty million dollars in your names that was to be released on your thirty-fifth birthdays!”
Evelyn froze on the steps, her grip on the baseball bat loosening slightly as her eyes darted between Eleanor and her sister in sudden, panicked disbelief. “You’re lying!” Evelyn shrieked, though the faint tremor in her voice betrayed her mounting uncertainty. “He took everything! That’s why we planned this! That’s why I married him!” Eleanor reached into her coat pocket and pulled out an ancient, yellowed legal document sealed with the St. Claire wax crest, tossing it onto the wet gravel at Evelyn’s feet.
