Chapter 2 — The Daughter Who Died
The guests were ordered to remain inside while federal agents secured the estate’s offices.
Nobody laughed now.
Vivian stood near the staircase with her arms folded over herself, as though she were the one who had been publicly exposed.
Julian cornered Celeste beside the ballroom windows.
“You planned this,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You came into our house pretending you wanted peace.”
“I never asked for peace.”
He lowered his voice.
“Do you understand what you’re doing? Thousands of people depend on Vale Maritime.”
“Then you should have considered them before selling defective equipment to the Navy.”
Julian’s expression froze.
That was all the confirmation Celeste needed.
Arthur approached them with his attorney, Martin Crewe, at his side.
Crewe had represented the Vale family for nearly thirty years. He had buried scandals, silenced former employees, and rewritten history with settlements and threats.
“You need to leave,” Crewe told Celeste.
“Federal agents just seized your father’s private server,” she replied. “I don’t think I’m the one leaving.”
Arthur’s voice was quiet.
“You always were dramatic.”
Celeste looked at him carefully.
Even with agents moving through his mansion, Arthur still believed control belonged to him. That belief had built his fortune.
It had also destroyed his family.
Admiral Reed joined Celeste.
“Commander, Special Agent Moreno needs you upstairs.”
Arthur blocked their path.
“You don’t get to walk through my home like you belong here.”
Celeste’s expression hardened.
“I was born in this house.”
“You gave up your place in this family.”
“You signed it away.”
For the first time, Crewe looked alarmed.
Celeste noticed.
“So you remember the documents,” she said.
Arthur’s jaw tightened.
“What documents?” Vivian asked.
Celeste turned toward her sister.
“The ones declaring me legally incompetent at nineteen. The ones transferring my inheritance and voting shares to Father.”
Vivian stared at Arthur.
“You said she signed everything voluntarily.”
“She did,” Arthur said.
“No,” Celeste replied. “I was sedated.”
The ballroom seemed to shrink around them.
Julian shook his head.
“She’s lying.”
Celeste removed a photograph from the envelope.
It showed a hospital room.
She was nineteen, unconscious in a bed. Arthur stood beside her. Crewe held a pen against her limp hand.
On the back, in their late mother’s handwriting, were six words:
Arthur is going to destroy her.
Vivian’s face went pale.
“Our mother took that?”
May you like
Celeste nodded.
“And three days later,” she said, “Mother died.”
