Chapter 4 - The Secret of the Vance Bloodline
The entire ballroom froze.
Patrick’s jaw dropped so low it looked unhinged. Judith staggered back against a chair, her eyes wide with unadulterated terror.
Lord Alexander Vance—the global shipping magnate, former European ambassador, and head of the Vance Dynasty whose private equity firm owned sixty percent of the commercial real estate in New England—stopped dead in his tracks.
Alexander looked down at the tiny five-year-old girl running toward him, her white dress fluttering, tears shining in her gray eyes.
His cold, stern features—a face known globally for collapsing corporate boards with a single phone call—softened into absolute, unbridled warmth.
Alexander dropped to one knee right there on the red carpet, completely disregarding his tailored fifty-thousand-dollar suit, and caught Emma in his arms as she threw her small arms around his neck.
“Emma... my sweet little star,” Alexander whispered, pulling her flush against his chest, kissing her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder.
“Grandpa!” Emma wept softly, holding onto his lapel. “Daddy’s mean lady hit me! And Daddy told Mommy to kneel!”
Alexander’s eyes snapped open.
The warmth vanished instantly, replaced by a dark, apocalyptic fury that made even his personal bodyguards step back in alarm.
Alexander stood up, holding Emma safely against his chest, sweeping her up as though she were made of delicate glass. He turned his terrifying, icy gaze toward the center of the room, where Patrick Bellamy stood frozen in place.
Alexander Vance stepped slowly toward Table One.
Patrick’s knees finally gave way. He hit the marble floor with a heavy, humiliating THUD, his hands shaking as he stared at the global titan walking toward him.
Vance.
When Rebecca had met Patrick seven years ago, she had used her mother’s maiden name: Rebecca Vance.
Patrick had assumed it was an ordinary, common name. He had never made the connection. He had never realized that Rebecca wasn't just the daughter of Julian Alden—she was the maternal granddaughter of Lord Alexander Vance.
The two greatest fortunes in North America and Europe had merged in Rebecca’s blood. And Patrick Bellamy had treated her like a destitute orphan.
“P-P-Lord Vance...” Patrick stammered from the floor, his voice cracking into a high-pitched whine. “Lord Vance... please... there’s been a terrible misunderstanding...”
Alexander stopped three feet from Patrick, looking down at the man kneeling on the floor as if he were a cockroach crawling across a clean carpet.
“A misunderstanding?” Alexander’s voice was like grinding steel. “You allowed a street-climbing mistress to strike my great-granddaughter? You attempted to financially abuse my granddaughter for seven years?”
Alexander turned his gaze toward Vanessa Crowe, who was trembling so violently she had to hold onto a table to keep from fainting.
“You,” Alexander said, his voice dropping into a register that made the crystal chandeliers above hum. “Arthur!”
Julian Alden’s chief of security stepped forward instantly. “Yes, Lord Vance?”
“Vanessa Crowe’s father runs a logistics sub-contracting firm in South Boston, does he not?” Alexander asked calmly.
“He does, sir,” Arthur replied. “They rely entirely on Alden Maritime leases and Vance Port authority permits.”
“Cancel them,” Alexander commanded flatly. “Effective in five minutes. Freeze their credit lines, seize their shipping containers, and file a civil assault lawsuit against Miss Crowe for the strike she delivered to my great-granddaughter’s face.”
Vanessa let out a strangled shriek, dropping to her knees beside Patrick, weeping hysterically. “No! Please! It was an accident! I didn't know! Patrick told me she was nobody!”
“And you, Patrick Bellamy,” Alexander continued, turning his terrifying gaze back to the man trembling on the floor. “You wanted Vanguard Capital to manage Alden and Vance funds?”
Alexander pulled a small, silver smartphone from his pocket, tapped the screen once, and placed it on speakerphone.
The voice of Richard Sterling, the Chairman of Vanguard Capital, echoed through the ballroom’s sound system.
“Lord Vance! It is an honor, sir! Is everything proceeding well at the gala?”
“Richard,” Alexander said coldly. “Your mid-level broker, Patrick Bellamy, is currently sitting on the floor in front of four hundred guests after threatening my family.”
A gasp of sheer horror echoed from the speaker.
“He... he did WHAT?!”
“Terminate his employment immediately,” Alexander ordered. “Seize his corporate accounts, audit his last seven years of trading ledgers for marital fraud, and ensure his broker’s license is permanently revoked across all fifty states.”
“Consider it done, Lord Vance! Right now! He is stripped of all credentials!”
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The line went dead.
Patrick sat on the cold floor, his head in his hands, weeping as the entire room watched his career, his status, his fortune, and his life vanish into dust within forty-five seconds.
