Chapter 6 - Blood Is Not LoyaltySebastian Vale had hated me since I was fourteen.
He was twenty-one then.
Old enough to understand inheritance.
Old enough to resent a girl who had done nothing except be born the favorite grandchild of a difficult old man.
My grandfather, Charles Vale, had three children.
My mother was the youngest.
Sebastian’s father was the oldest.
Family tradition suggested control should eventually pass to Sebastian.
My grandfather disagreed.
“He wants the title,” Grandpa once told me. “You want to understand the machine.”
When I was twenty-three, Grandpa named me successor to the voting trust.
One year later, he died.
Sebastian congratulated me at the funeral.
Then spent the next fourteen years trying to prove Grandpa had made a mistake.
Now he had apparently tried to buy stolen technology from my husband’s collapsing company.
Eleanor and I confronted him at Vale Tower.
He stood by the windows in his immaculate office.
“You’re dramatic as always, Victoria.”
“You financed Calder.”
“I invest in opportunities.”
“You knew the patents belonged to Vale Research.”
“I knew their ownership was disputed.”
“They aren’t disputed.”
“They would have been after restructuring.”
That was as close to a confession as Sebastian would give.
“You planned this.”
“I recognized an inevitable collapse.”
“You helped create it.”
“Can you prove that?”
Not yet.
His smile told me he knew.
“Northstar?”
“No idea what that is.”
“Calder?”
“Professional acquaintance.”
“Mercer Strategic?”
“Never heard of it.”
“Would you like to repeat those answers under oath?”
“I’d prefer lunch.”
I stared at him.
“How much did you promise Calder?”
Sebastian smiled.
“You’re assuming he was working for me.”
“Wasn’t he?”
“Thomas worked for Thomas.”
That sounded true.
“And Sloane?”
“Also herself.”
“Grant?”
His smile widened.
“Grant worked for his ego.”
That hurt because it was true.
Sebastian poured water.
“You chose badly, cousin.”
“My husband isn’t the topic.”
“He is exactly the topic.”
“No.”
“Everything Grandfather built, you tied to a man desperate to prove he didn’t need you.”
“I invested in a company.”
“You subsidized a husband.”
I stepped closer.
“Careful.”
“Why? Because it’s cruel?”
“Because cruel people often mistake themselves for clever people.”
His smile disappeared.
“You’ve always thought you were better than me.”
“No, Sebastian.”
I picked up my handbag.
“Grandpa did.”
I left before he could answer.
That evening, I moved out of the Greenwich house.
Not dramatically.
No shattered glasses.
No clothes thrown onto the lawn.
I packed two suitcases.
Rosa cried.
I did not.
Grant arrived while my driver loaded the second bag.
“Where are you going?”
“My apartment.”
“You don’t have an apartment.”
“I bought one yesterday.”
He stared at me.
“In Manhattan?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
He stepped closer.
“Victoria, don’t leave.”
“I already did.”
“I’m not talking about the house.”
I knew.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Finally Grant said, “I can fix the company.”
“Maybe.”
“I can fix us.”
“I don’t know.”
“I ended things with Sloane before they began.”
“You kissed her.”
“Yes.”
“You humiliated me.”
“Yes.”
“You concealed financial crimes.”
“I was scared.”
“You lied every day.”
“I know.”
His voice was quieter than I had heard in years.
“I know.”
I looked at the man I had once loved so completely that protecting his dream had felt indistinguishable from protecting my own.
“I kept making excuses for you before you even needed them,” I said. “Do you know that?”
He shook his head.
“When investors called you reckless, I said you were visionary. When you missed anniversaries, I said you were building something. When you forgot dinners, I said thousands of employees depended on you. When people asked why you never acknowledged Vale’s role, I said you needed independence.”
Grant closed his eyes.
“I made you larger in everyone’s eyes.”
“Victoria.”
“And somewhere along the way, you started believing the version of you I created.”
He looked devastated.
Good.
Some truths should hurt.
My phone rang.
Owen.
I answered.
“We found the missing money.”
“All of it?”
“Most.”
“Where?”
“Some went to Calder. But there’s something stranger.”
“What?”
“There are transactions into offshore accounts tied to Sebastian.”
I looked toward Grant.
“How much?”
“About ninety million.”
“Can we prove beneficial ownership?”
“Working on it.”
“Send everything.”
I hung up.
Grant had heard enough.
“Sebastian?”
“Yes.”
“I told you Calder wasn’t acting alone.”
“You told me after three months of lying.”
“I know.”
We stood there.
Then Grant said something unexpected.
“Use me.”
“What?”
“Against Sebastian.”
“Why would I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
That answer stopped me.
Grant continued.
“But Sebastian thinks I’m desperate.”
“You are.”
“Yes.”
“He thinks you hate me.”
“Currently, I’m flexible.”
Despite himself, Grant smiled.
Then it vanished.
“He’ll believe I’m willing to sell.”
“The patents aren’t yours to sell.”
“He knows that. But I can make him believe I have access.”
I studied him.
“You want to trap him.”
“Yes.”
“It could expose you too.”
“Yes.”
“You could lose the company.”
“Yes.”
“You might face criminal scrutiny.”
“I already should.”
That was different.
Not because he had become noble overnight.
People rarely change that quickly.
But shame had finally entered the room.
“What do you want in return?”
“Nothing.”
“Grant.”
“Nothing.”
I waited.
He looked toward the driveway.
Then back at me.
“If Ashford survives, remove me as CEO.”
I was genuinely stunned.
“What?”
“I’m the reason this went as far as it did.”
“You’re one reason.”
“I stopped listening to anyone who challenged me.”
“Yes.”
“I built a company where people told me what I wanted to hear.”
“Yes.”
“I thought leadership meant nobody seeing me afraid.”
He swallowed.
“So I hid everything until fear became fraud.”
That was perhaps the most self-aware thing Grant had ever said.
“Why resign?”
“Because twelve thousand people shouldn’t lose their jobs while I learn humility.”
I said nothing.
Grant looked at my suitcases.
“Go.”
I opened the car door.
Then he said, “For what it’s worth, the seat on the plane—”
I turned.
“I know.”
“I keep replaying it.”
“So do I.”
“I wanted Sloane to think I was in control.”
“You weren’t.”
“No.”
His eyes met mine.
“I don’t think I had been for a long time.”
I got into the car.
Two days later, Grant called Sebastian.
The conversation was recorded with counsel’s involvement.
Grant sounded exhausted.
Desperate.
Perfect.
“I’m done fighting Victoria,” he said.
Sebastian laughed.
“That took longer than expected.”
“She’ll destroy Ashford just to punish me.”
“She’s emotional.”
I nearly rolled my eyes while listening from another room.
Grant continued.
“I can get you the Aurora files.”
Pause.
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want?”
“Enough to leave.”
“How much?”
“Fifty million.”
Sebastian laughed.
“Your standards have fallen.”
“My options have too.”
Another pause.
Then Sebastian said, “There’s a gala Friday. Vale Foundation.”
“I know.”
“Bring the access token.”
“I need proof of payment.”
“You’ll have it.”
The call ended.
Eleanor looked at me.
“Friday.”
“Yes.”
Grant entered the room.
“That sounded believable?”
“Disturbingly.”
He smiled faintly.
Then Owen’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He turned toward us.
“We have a problem.”
“What kind?”
“Federal investigators just detained Sloane.”
“For the forgery?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Owen swallowed.
“They believe someone accessed Vale Research’s servers from her credentials last night.”
I stared at him.
“That’s impossible. She’s under supervision.”
“Exactly.”
“Who used them?”
“We don’t know.”
Then Eleanor’s laptop beeped.
A security alert.
She opened it.
Every face in the room changed.
Someone had downloaded the complete Aurora patent package.
Not drafts.
Not summaries.
Everything.
The theft had already happened.
May you like
And if those files reached a foreign buyer, the entire boardroom war would become irrelevant.
Someone had beaten us to the technology.
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