Chapter 6 - Marcus’s Ultimatum
As the echoes of Caroline’s departure faded into the heavy afternoon air, the remaining guests began whispering furiously among themselves, hastily grabbing their coats and heading for the valet stand. Nobody wanted to be caught in the blast radius of a Montgomery family civil war.
Marcus Vance stepped forward, holding his leather briefcase like a shield against the chaos. He looked at Ethan, then at Eleanor, and finally at me.
“Well,” Marcus cleared his throat professionally. “It appears the charter clause is no longer a secret. And legally speaking, Eleanor’s attempt to conceal the existence of these heirs constitutes a direct breach of fiduciary trust under the 1968 charter guidelines.”
Eleanor slumped against a marble pillar, looking ten years older than she had an hour ago. The armor of wealth and power had finally cracked completely.
“What does that mean for the company, Marcus?” Ethan asked, his voice deadpan.
“It means,” Marcus said slowly, “that as of right now, the primary corporate shares do not belong to Eleanor, nor do they automatically revert to the state board yet—because the boys are present, acknowledged by you, and within the six-year statutory window.”
Marcus turned his gaze directly onto me. “Which means Claire... legally, you hold the controlling proxy power as the custodial guardian of the primary heirs.”
I stared at Marcus, stunned. For five years, I had fought tooth and nail for every single dollar of my own company, believing I was entirely on my own. Now, by sheer coincidence of biology and an archaic family charter, I held the keys to the entire Montgomery empire.
“I don’t want their empire,” I said flatly. “I built my own.”
“You might not want it, Claire, but you need it,” Marcus pointed out gently. “Because if you don’t step in and take control of the trustee board, Eleanor and her corporate allies will spend every remaining dollar fighting you in court to strip the boys of their inheritance out of spite.”
Ethan walked slowly toward me, stopping a few feet away. He didn’t look like a millionaire heir or a powerful CEO anymore. He looked like a man standing in the ruins of his own life, looking at the only things that truly mattered.
“Claire,” Ethan said softly, his voice thick with humility. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t expect you to look at me the way you did before I let my mother drive us apart. But I am begging you—let me be their father. Let me help you fix this.”
I looked down at Liam, Noah, and Caleb. They were watching us with wide, curious eyes, quietly processing the shouting match and the running bride.
“Mom, can we go home now?” Caleb asked, tugging on my dress. “This party is weird.”
I smiled softly, kneeling down to wipe a speck of dust off Caleb’s velvet jacket. “Yes, buddy. We’re going home.”
I stood up and looked straight into Ethan’s gray eyes—the exact same eyes looking up at me from my three sons.
“You can see your sons, Ethan,” I said clearly. “Every weekend. Through supervised visits mediated by Marcus’s office. You’ll earn their trust the hard way, the same way I had to build my life without you.”
May you like
Ethan swallowed hard, blinking back fresh tears, and nodded slowly. “I’ll take whatever terms you set. Anything.”
“As for the estate,” I turned to look at Eleanor, who wouldn’t even meet my eyes. “Marcus, draw up the restructuring papers tomorrow morning. We’re dismantling the 1968 charter piece by piece, and every single antiquated, controlling rule this family ever lived by is going into the shredder.”
