Chapter 3: The Sealed Empire
“Release her,” Julian commanded, his voice dropping into a register so dark and threatening that the three massive security guards dropped their hands from my shoulders instantly, stepping back into the shadows.
Victoria’s voice rose to a screeching halt. “Julian! What are you doing?! She is an impostor! A common waitress trying to blackmail us with an old photograph of your father’s mistress! Have her thrown out into the street!”
“Shut up, Victoria,” Julian said softly, never taking his eyes off my face. The absolute coldness in his tone made his wife gasp, her hand flying to her throat as the surrounding guests began to whisper frantically among themselves.
Julian looked at the photograph, then looked up at my emerald-green eyes—the exact same eyes that graced the massive oil portrait of his father hanging in the grand lobby of the Bennett Corporate Headquarters on Wall Street. The resemblance was undeniable, an inescapable biological truth written across my features.
Suddenly, the heavy mahogany double doors of the Grand Ballroom were pushed open with a loud, echoey thud.
A tall, distinguished man in a dark gray legal suit stepped into the room, flanked by two junior associates carrying heavy leather briefcases. It was Christopher Vance, the senior managing executor of the Arthur Bennett Estate and the most powerful estate attorney in the state of New York.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Vance marched purposefully across the parquet floor, his eyes fixing directly on me before shifting to Julian.
“Christopher?” Julian frowned, his corporate shield cracking further. “Why are you here? The estate distribution was finalized six months ago. You have no business at this gala.”
Christopher Vance stopped at the head table, completely ignoring Victoria and the surrounding billionaires. He bowed his head slightly toward me. “Good evening, Miss Maya. I apologize for the delay. The court certification took longer than anticipated.”
He turned to face Julian, pulling a thick, notarized document from his leather portfolio.
“Julian, I am here to serve an emergency injunction issued by the New York State Supreme Court,” Vance announced, his clinical, professional voice echoing through the silent ballroom. “As of 5:00 PM this evening, all voting shares, commercial properties, and liquid assets tied to Bennett Holdings have been placed into a temporary judicial receivership.”
Victoria let out a loud, dramatic cry. “What?! On what grounds? This is madness!”
“On the grounds of an unsealed codicil within Arthur Bennett’s primary testamentary trust,” Vance explained, sliding the court order across the table next to the photograph. “A provision that explicitly states that if an unacknowledged biological child of Arthur Bennett should present verified genetic proof of lineage within one year of his passing, the entire estate must be split equally—with the majority voting control shifting automatically to the first-born daughter.”
May you like
Julian staggered back a step, his hands gripping the edge of the mahogany table to keep his balance. “The first-born... daughter?”
Vance nodded gravely. “Maya was born six months before you, Julian. She is Arthur’s oldest child. And according to the terms of your father’s will, she is now the majority owner of Bennett Holdings.”
