Chapter 6 - The Uninvited Dynasty
Tyler’s hands were shaking as he gripped the edge of the archive desk.
"Dad... that’s impossible," Tyler stammered, looking at me in sheer terror.
"Victoria said Allison was just... an estranged niece from out of town who didn't get along with the family."
Arthur Vance turned slowly toward his son, his face hardening into an expression of absolute, terrifying fury.
"Shut up, Tyler," Arthur commanded, his voice so cold that the archivist behind the desk flinched.
"Is this why Eleanor's daughter was not on the wedding guest list?"
Tyler swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing violently.
"Mom and Victoria handled the invitations, Dad... I didn't inspect the master list."
"You didn't inspect it because you allowed that social-climbing viper to dictate who was worthy to stand in our presence," Arthur snarled.
"Victoria Blake accepted a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar wedding contribution from my family trust last month!"
"She told your mother that her side of the family was small, modest, and completely accommodated!"
Arthur turned back to me, his demeanor softening instantly into profound, humble reverence.
He reached out with both hands, gently taking my cold fingers into his warm grasp.
"Allison, your mother was the finest human being I ever had the privilege of knowing," Arthur said, his voice thick with unshakeable conviction.
"For thirty years, Vance Commercial has maintained a secret ten-percent equity endowment designated for the heirs of Eleanor Weller."
"Because Victoria told my attorneys there were no heirs, that endowment has been accumulating dividends in an escrow account at Charleston First Bank."
I stared at him, my mind spinning as the world tilted beneath my feet.
"An endowment?" I whispered.
"Eighteen million dollars, Allison," Arthur revealed, his blue eyes locking onto mine with absolute certainty.
"It belongs to you. Every single cent of it."
Tyler let out a strangled gasp, staggering backward against a row of wooden card catalogs, nearly knocking over an antique globe.
Eighteen million dollars.
My aunt had spent twelve years keeping me in the shadows, shoving me onto folding chairs by the kitchen door, terrified that the moment I met the Vance family, her colossal lie would be exposed.
She had excluded me from Madison's wedding not because I didn't fit the aesthetic, but because she was terrified Arthur Vance would recognize my mother's face in mine.
"Mr. Vance," I said, my voice steadying as the righteous fire of truth burned away twelve years of quiet humiliation.
"The wedding is tomorrow evening at Riverland Plantation, isn't it?"
Arthur’s eyes flashed with a dangerous, triumphant spark that matched my own.
"It is, Allison," Arthur replied, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his distinguished face.
May you like
"And tomorrow evening, you will not be sitting by any kitchen doors."
"You will be standing beside me as the guest of honor on the very land your mother saved."
