Chapter 3: Blood Against Blood
The door didn't just open; it slammed against the stop with a force that shook the crystal chandelier above.
Standing in the doorway was Liam. His tie was slightly loosened, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles in his face jumped. He looked at Victoria, taking in her tear-stained face, her trembling posture, and the lace shawl she was using to shield herself. Then, his eyes shifted to his father, whose hand was still raised with the heavy silver cane.
The young husband looked completely enraged. In a fraction of a second, that rage transformed into something fiercely, violently protective.
"Get away from my wife," Liam said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a lethal, gravelly weight that made Charles slowly lower the cane.
"Liam, don't be dramatic," Charles said, instantly smoothing his tuxedo jacket, attempting to regain his posture of absolute dominance. "Your new wife was just experiencing some wedding-day nerves. We were having a private discussion about family expectations."
"I heard you, Dad," Liam said, stepping into the room and closing the heavy door behind him. He held up his smartphone. The screen was lit up, showing an active, ongoing audio recording. Liam hadn't just walked in blindly; he had been standing outside the door for the last three minutes, listening to every single confession, every single threat, and every ounce of toxic venom his father had spewed.
The two men stood face to face. A father and a son. The past of the Vance empire and its future, standing on the precipice of a war that would destroy their wealthy legacy.
"You think a recording changes anything?" Charles scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "I built this empire. I am the chairman of the board. You are nothing without my backing, Liam. Delete that recording, or I will strip you of your inheritance before the sun comes up."
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Liam looked at his father—the man he had spent his entire life trying to please, the man he realized was nothing but a hollow, abusive tyrant. Liam walked right past him, kneeling down in front of Victoria on the bed. He took her shaking hands in his, kissing her knuckles. "I'm so sorry I let him near you," he whispered.
Then, he stood up, turning to face his father with a chilling, victorious smile. "Keep the money, Dad. Because tomorrow morning, the federal prosecutors are going to take it anyway."
