Chapter 4 - The Patriarch's Panic
Before Eleanor could process the phone call or demand an explanation, the crowd behind them parted in a flurry of whispers. Arthur Vance, the silver-haired patriarch of the family, stepped through the circle of onlookers. Draped in a classic dark tuxedo, his face was ash-grey, his breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. In his hand, he held a vibrating tablet displaying red emergency alerts, financial liquidation notices, and criminal indictment filings popping up faster than he could clear them.
Behind Arthur stood his son, Julian—a young man who had spent his life hiding his own anxieties beneath his family's name—looking frantically between Victoria and the screen of his father's device. Arthur’s hands shook so violently that he nearly dropped the tablet onto the marble floor. The arrogance that had defined the Vance name for half a century was disintegrating in real time.
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Seeing Arthur’s blind panic, Victoria took a deliberate step forward, her white satin train gliding smoothly over the polished floor. Her gaze remained as sharp as obsidian, her lip curling into a faint, mocking curve as she addressed the ruined patriarch:
"You should have asked that question before she touched what belonged to my family."
