Chapter 10 - The Reckoning
"Clara is dead," she said, her voice perfectly even, devoid of any theatrical melodrama. "You made sure of that on the floor of our living room."
Ethan stumbled to his feet, knocking his scotch glass off the table. It shattered against the hardwood, amber liquid soaking into the rug. He backed away, his hands outstretched as if warding off a specter. "No... no, this is impossible. You're Vivian Sterling. You’re—"
"I am the woman you threw out into the rain," she interrupted, stepping forward with deliberate, measured grace. "I am Arthur Ward's daughter. The woman whose legacy you stole to build your fragile, debt-ridden empire."
"Clara, my God..." Ethan dropped to his knees, his face pale as chalk, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You're alive. You're alive! I... I didn't know! Elena—she framed you! You know that now! She set the whole thing up! I was protecting Leo!"
"You were protecting your pride," Clara spat, looking down at him with absolute contempt. "You didn't care about the truth. You cared that an inconvenient, gentle wife was standing between you and Victor Cross's financing. Elena didn't just trick you, Ethan. You wanted to believe her. You wanted an excuse to discard me."
"That's not true! I loved you!" he cried, reaching out to grasp the hem of her trousers, but she took a step back, refusing to let him touch her.
"If that was love, Ethan, you deserve everything that is about to happen to you," Clara said coldly.
She picked up the leather folder from the table and opened it, tossing the documents onto the floor in front of him. "At eight o'clock this morning, Thorne Capital acquired Victor Cross's frozen equity in Vance Enterprises at auction. Combined with my forty-five percent, I now hold seventy-eight percent of the voting shares."
Ethan stared at the documents, his breath hitching. "You... you own the company."
"No," Clara corrected him. "I am dissolving the company. Vance Enterprises ceases to exist as of noon today. The assets, the facilities, and my father's patents are being absorbed into the Ward Memorial Foundation, under my sole ownership."
"Clara, please!" Ethan begged, clutching his head in his hands. "Take the company! Take the money! But don't destroy me! I have nothing left! I have Leo!"
At the mention of the child, Clara’s eyes darkened with cold fury. "Leo is not your son, Ethan."
Ethan’s head snapped up. "What?"
Clara pulled a sealed white envelope from the folder and tossed it into his lap. "When Elena was arrested last night, we ran a court-ordered DNA test on the baby using samples taken during his six-month checkup. Leo is Victor Cross's biological child. Elena swapped the donor records at the fertility clinic before you ever met her."
Ethan stared at the envelope as if it were a venomous snake. His hands shook so violently he could barely tear the paper open. As his eyes scanned the genetic probability—0.00% match—a strangled, animalistic sound tore from his chest.
"Everything," Ethan whispered, his world shattering into a thousand irrecoverable pieces. "Everything was a lie."
"You built your life on stolen work and shallow vanity, Ethan," Clara said, turning toward the door. "And now, the foundation has crumbled."
"Clara! Wait! Please!" Ethan scrambled across the floor, clutching at the air. "Where am I supposed to go?! What am I supposed to do?!"
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Clara stopped at the doorway, looking back over her shoulder for the last time. "You have ten minutes to get your things, Ethan. If you're still in my city by nightfall, I will have security remove you. You are dead to this family."
She stepped out into the hallway, leaving Ethan Vance sobbing on the shattered glass of his ruined life.
