Chapter 9 - The architect of the fall
With the truth out in the open and the evidence secured, Vincent’s composure returned, colder and sharper than ever before. It was time to deal with Celeste.
He had her brought 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 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 for a plane ticket to Geneva,” 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’m still your brother’s wife. 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 and fracture our alliances. They agreed that 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. “Your accounts will be emptied. 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 the clothes on your back. You will move to a small apartment I have secured for you in a very quiet, very isolated town in the Midwest. If you ever contact the press, the police, or anyone in this city, I will not be as gentle as I was last night. Do you understand?”
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Celeste stared at him, tears of absolute defeat spilling over her cheeks. She had played the game of thrones, and she had lost spectacularly to a man who didn't even need to raise his voice to break her.
Without a word, she turned and walked out of the room, her ruined silver gown trailing behind her like a ghost of her former glory.
