Chapter 8 - The Confrontation in the Sanctuary
"Dominic," Lord Sterling announced, his smooth European accent echoing off the marble lobby walls. "You're five minutes late. Under Section Nine of the international charter, your failure to appear with an unconflicted title forfeits the Ravelli shipping deeds."
Vivienne stood beside Sterling, her emerald gown draped elegantly, a triumphant, malicious smile on her face. "It's over, brother. The European board has already accepted my claim as co-heiress."
Dominic walked into the center of the lobby, stopping ten feet from Sterling’s mercenaries. He moved with slow, deliberate authority, his broad frame radiating an aura of lethal power that made the surrounding guards hesitate.
"You brought twelve men to take my family's legacy, Sterling?" Dominic said, his deep voice carrying a terrifying rumble. "You should have brought an army."
Agatha stepped forward beside her son, her burgundy blouse and pearl earrings catching the bright lobby lights, her posture regal and fearless.
"Lord Sterling," Agatha said, her voice sharp as a razor. "You present a forged claim based on a half-truth."
Sterling sneered, holding up the birth registry. "Half-truth? This document proves Agatha gave birth to twins in Palermo! Under the original 1974 charter, female heirs hold equal voting rights if the male heir's succession was hidden!"
"Read the second page, Sterling," Dominic commanded flatly.
Dominic reached into his coat, pulling out the sealed leather codicil he had recovered from Don Carmine’s private floor safe beneath the chapel altar. He opened the yellowed parchment, laying it flat on the glass reception desk before the European board members.
"What is that?!" Vivienne shrieked, her arrogant smile evaporating.
"That," Dominic revealed, "is the 1978 Master Covenant signed by Don Carmine Ravelli and approved by the Supreme Court of Palermo."
Dominic’s dark eyes locked onto Sterling. "Read paragraph four, Sterling."
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Sterling hesitated, his hands trembling slightly as he leaned over the reception desk to read the ancient calligraphy.
As his eyes scanned the text, his face drained of all color.
