Chapter 7 - The Gathering Storm
The sanctuary of the penthouse was shattered on the third day by the chime of the private elevator. The doors parted to reveal Julian’s mother, Eleanor Vance.
Dressed in immaculately tailored beige cashmere, Eleanor stepped into the foyer with an aura of supreme social entitlement. Her eyes swept over the living room, immediately landing on the colorful wooden building blocks scattered across the Persian rug.
"Julian," Eleanor began, her voice clipped and patrician. "Your executive assistant said you canceled three consecutive board meetings. The market is whispering about an incapacitating illness. Have you lost your—"
Her voice evaporated as Leo tottered out from behind the sofa, clutching a red wooden block. The boy looked up at the austere woman, his wide hazel eyes completely devoid of fear.
Eleanor stepped backward, her manicured hand rising to her throat. "What is... who is this?"
Behind the boy, Clara stepped into the open. "Hello, Eleanor."
The older woman’s face paled beneath her artful makeup. "Clara Bennett. Richard told me he handled you. He assured me you were gone."
"My father lied to you, Mother," Julian intervened, stepping between Eleanor and his child. His voice was low, carrying a lethal calmness that made Eleanor blink. "Just like he lied to me. Just like he blackmailed Clara while she was carrying your grandson."
"Grandson?" Eleanor’s breath hitched. She stared at Leo. The family resemblance was undeniable—the boy carried the signature Vance brow, the unmistakable curve of the jaw. "Julian, this is scandalous. If the press discovers an illegitimate heir right before the annual shareholder vote—"
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"If you refer to my son as a scandal one more time," Julian said, his voice dropping into arctic territory, "you will never see him again. And you will find yourself voted off the charitable foundation board by Friday morning."
Eleanor opened her mouth to retaliate, but seeing the uncompromising fire in Julian’s eyes, the words died in her throat.
