Chapter 7 - The exiled queen
With the truth mutating into something far more dangerous than simple blackmail, Vincent’s composure shifted from cold to absolute zero. He ascended from the basement and ordered his security team to bring Celeste to the main dining room.
The shattered table from the night before had already been cleared away by the staff, replaced by a smaller, pristine marble table.
Celeste was a mess. Her silver gown was ruined, her makeup smeared, but she still clung to her arrogance. She sat in a chair, crossing her legs, trying to project a power she no longer held.
Vincent walked in and tossed the manila envelope onto the table.
Celeste’s eyes widened. She recognized it instantly. The color drained from her fair, aristocratic face.
“Harrington sold you out,” Vincent said, taking a seat at the head of the table. He rested his elbows on the marble, steepling his fingers. “Your leverage is gone.”
Celeste’s chest heaved. “You think this is over? I know too much about this family’s operations. You can’t touch me without starting a war with my father’s people.”
“You overestimate your worth,” Vincent replied smoothly. “Your father’s people rely on our shipping routes. I had a very brief phone call with them this morning. I told them you were attempting to usurp the Belladonna family. They agreed your behavior was... disappointing.”
Celeste gripped the edge of the table. “You’re lying.”
“By noon today, every asset in your name will be frozen,” Vincent continued, his voice devoid of anger, entirely professional and utterly ruthless. “Arthur has already signed the annulment papers. He is weak, but he fears me far more than he loves you.”
“You can’t just erase me!” Celeste screamed, standing up, her composure finally breaking.
“I already have,” Vincent said. “You will leave this house with nothing. But before you go, you are going to tell me exactly who told you to put that dog bowl in front of my mother.”
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Celeste froze. A genuine flicker of terror crossed her face. “It was in the package. A burner phone. A voice told me if I didn't humiliate Eleanor publicly, they would release the journals to the Commission and frame Arthur for the murder. They told me exactly what to say.”
Vincent leaned back in his chair. The pieces were locking together. Celeste wasn't the mastermind; she was just a pawn used to shake the beehive.
