Chapter 5 - The War at the Table
Two days later, the front page of the New York Post exploded with a headline that sent shockwaves through the financial and criminal underworlds of the East Coast:
BILLIONAIRE HEIR SEBASTIAN VALE CALLS OFF WEDDING WITH CLARISSA HART; SECRET FAMILY REVEALED IN ASTORIA WALK-UP.
The fallout was instantaneous.
In her penthouse on Fifth Avenue, Clarissa Hart smashed a crystal champagne flute against the floor, her face twisted with absolute fury as she watched news anchors replay footage of Sebastian carrying a four-year-old boy out of an Astoria apartment building while Maya shielded the twins under a dark trench coat.
"He humiliated me," Clarissa hissed, dialing her father’s private number. "Dad... I want the Vale family destroyed."
Meanwhile, in the fortified boardroom of the Vale estate in Westchester, Arthur Vale—Sebastian’s seventy-eight-year-old grandfather—slammed his cane against the mahogany table.
"Are you out of your mind, Sebastian?" the old man roared, his face purple with rage. "You broke a dynastic alliance with the Hart family for a bookstore clerk and three bastards?"
Sebastian sat at the head of the table, his fingers laced together, his expression carved from black ice. The men who had served his grandfather for decades stood around the room with hands resting near their holstered weapons.
"They are not bastards," Sebastian said softly, his voice cutting through the old man's anger like a razor. "They are my legitimate heirs. And the moment you or anyone else in this family tries to touch them, I will burn this entire empire to the ground and salt the earth where it stood."
Arthur leaned heavily on his cane, his watery eyes narrowing. "You think you can defy me? The Volkovs are already circling. Without the Hart merger, we have no political protection. You’ve left the family vulnerable."
"I am the family now," Sebastian stated, standing up from his chair. He towered over his grandfather, the sheer, ruthless authority radiating from him silencing every guard in the room. "And I don't need political protection. I have a reason to fight."
He turned and walked out of the boardroom, leaving his grandfather shaking with impotent fury.
Sebastian climbed into his waiting car, pulling out his phone to dial Maya’s number.
"Pack your bags," he told her the moment she picked up. "We're leaving."
May you like
"Sebastian, I can't just leave," Maya protested over the line. "My job, the kids' preschool—"
"A tactical strike team from the Volkov syndicate was spotted near your street twenty minutes ago," Sebastian interrupted, his heart skipping a beat. "You are not safe there. You are coming home with me—all of you."
