Chapter 9 - The Matriarch's Verdict
Julian hesitated for only a fraction of a second before opening the door and sliding into the leather seat opposite Lady Beatrice. The air inside the limousine smelled of vintage lavender and antique leather, cold and suffocating compared to the warm Mediterranean air outside.
The car glided into traffic, heading west along the scenic coastal highway toward Monaco.
""Beatrice,"" Julian began, trying to inject contrition into his voice. ""I know how this looks. But Elena has completely lost control. She burned down a multi-million-dollar vessel in the harbor! She's destroying the company's valuation out of petty jealousy!""
Lady Beatrice didn't flinch. She rested both gloved hands upon a gold-handled walking stick, looking at him with the detached curiosity one might afford a roach crawling across fine porcelain.
""Petty jealousy?"" she murmured softly. ""You flatter yourself, boy. Elena doesn't care who you share your bed with. My granddaughter does not cry over wandering dogs.""
Julian’s face burned. ""Then why do all this? Why scorch the earth?""
""Because you stole from the bloodline,"" Beatrice replied, her voice dropping into a register of icy absolute authority. ""You thought our silence during your little corporate maneuvers was ignorance. You thought because my late husband was gone, there were no men left to guard the treasury.""
She leaned forward slightly, her eyes boring into his soul. ""We tolerated your mediocre mind because you were ornamental, Julian. You looked presentable at galas. You could wear a tuxedo and shake hands with senators without drooling on yourself. But then you moved two hundred million dollars through dummy corporations in the Grenadines to finance your private ventures. That money belonged to my great-grandchildren.""
Julian felt the blood drain from his head. ""I was investing it! The returns would have—""
""The returns failed,"" Beatrice cut in mercilessly. ""And so have you.""
She tapped her cane twice against the floor. The limousine slowed down, pulling over onto the narrow gravel shoulder of a towering sea cliff overlooking the jagged rocks hundreds of feet below.
The driver got out and opened Julian's door.
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""What is this?"" Julian backed into the upholstery, raw panic flaring in his chest. ""Beatrice, what are you doing?""
""Elena wants you in prison,"" Beatrice said coldly, turning to look out the front windshield. ""She is modern. She believes in laws, courts, and public humiliation. But I am old-fashioned, Julian. I believe in eliminating debts.""
