Chapter 14: Family Confrontation
1377words
"They're being rather restrained," Cassian remarked dryly, pouring coffee. "I expected worse."
I traced our photographed figures—his hands cradling my face, my body arched toward his, both of us oblivious to the cameras. The image radiated such genuine passion that even the most cynical couldn't dismiss it as mere scandal.
"Victoria will use this," I said, accepting the coffee cup he offered. "She'll paint me as the opportunist who seduced her stepdaughter's fiancé's uncle."
"Let her try." His fingers brushed mine, the casual intimacy we no longer needed to hide. "The meeting is set for eleven. Are you ready?"
I touched the leather portfolio containing my mother's documents—the evidence I'd recovered from her jewelry box, supplemented by what Cassian had gathered over the years.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
The drive to Cassian's office building was silent, both of us gathering strength for the confrontation ahead. In the elevator, he took my hand.
"Remember," he said quietly, "whatever happens in there, we face it together."
"Together," I echoed, drawing strength from the word.
They were already waiting in the conference room—my father and Victoria seated on one side of the table, Orion and Isolde on the other. The tension was palpable, like entering a room filled with explosive gas where a single spark might ignite catastrophe.
"How generous of you to grace us with your presence," Victoria said, her smile venomous. "After your... performance last night."
"I thought it was quite a show," I replied, taking a seat across from her. "Both on and off the runway."
My father's face remained impassive, but his knuckles whitened as he gripped his armrest. "This meeting is a waste of time. My position remains unchanged. End this inappropriate relationship and return to London, or face the consequences."
"Actually," Cassian said, settling beside me, "we called this meeting to discuss different consequences altogether."
He nodded to his assistant, who distributed folders to everyone present. Inside were copies of financial records, newspaper clippings, and legal documents—a paper trail of corruption spanning two decades.
"What is this supposed to be?" my father demanded.
"Evidence," I said simply. "Of money laundering, tax evasion, and possibly worse."
Victoria's laugh was brittle. "If you're referring to Frederick's financial... creativity, that's hardly news. And hardly proof of anything criminal."
"Perhaps not on its own," Cassian agreed. "But combined with your blackmail scheme—using this information to control Frederick for years—it becomes rather more interesting to authorities."
Her smile faltered. "That's absurd."
"Is it?" I opened my leather portfolio, removing a small recording device. "This was in my mother's jewelry box. I had the contents professionally restored."
I pressed play. My mother's voice, clear despite the recording's age, filled the room: "I know what you've done, Frederick. The offshore accounts, the shell companies, all of it. I won't let you drag our daughter into this life of deception."
My father's voice responded: "You'll say nothing if you know what's good for you. For both of you."
I stopped the recording, watching the color drain from my father's face. "There's more. Much more."
"This proves nothing," Victoria snapped, though her composure was visibly cracking. "Ancient history, manipulated recordings—"
"There's also this," I continued, removing a sealed envelope. "My mother's letter to her solicitor, to be opened in the event of her 'unexpected death.' She suspected you both, you see. She was preparing to leave, to expose everything."
"And then she conveniently died," Cassian added, his voice hard. "Car accident, wasn't it? Brake failure?"
My father stood abruptly. "You're treading on dangerous ground, Vexley."
"I heard you," Isolde said suddenly, her voice small but clear. All eyes turned to her. "After the accident. I heard you and Mother talking."
Victoria's face contorted with fury. "Isolde, be quiet."
"No." Isolde straightened, meeting her mother's gaze. "I was twelve. I couldn't sleep. I heard you in Father's study, telling him it was 'taken care of' and that 'she won't be talking to anyone now.'"
The room fell silent, the accusation hanging in the air like poison.
"You were a child," Victoria said dismissively. "You misunderstood."
"Did I?" Isolde's eyes filled with tears. "Then why did you tell me, years later when I asked about it, that some secrets could destroy families? That loyalty meant protecting each other, no matter what?"
Orion stared at his fiancée, then at Victoria, shock evident on his face. "Are you saying they murdered Seraphina's mother?"
"Of course not," my father interjected smoothly. "This is absurd melodrama. Elise's death was a tragic accident, investigated thoroughly."
"By investigators on your payroll," Cassian countered.
My father's expression hardened as he turned to me. "Is this your game, Seraphina? Dredging up ancient history, making wild accusations? For what? Revenge because I didn't coddle you enough?"
"For justice," I said quietly. "For my mother. For the truth."
"The truth," he scoffed. "You want truth? Here's truth: your precious Cassian isn't the white knight you imagine. Ask him about the pension funds that disappeared during the Whitestone-Vexley merger. Ask him whose idea it was to move that money offshore."
I felt Cassian tense beside me. "That was your brother's scheme, Frederick. I discovered it too late to stop it."
"But not too late to profit from it," my father shot back. "We all have secrets, Vexley. None of us can afford this war."
"Is that a threat?" Cassian asked, his voice dangerously soft.
"It's reality." My father's smile was cold. "Push this, and I'll ensure we all burn together. Your business, your reputation, everything."
Victoria seized the opening. "This is precisely why this... relationship is impossible. You're both using each other—Seraphina for revenge against her family, Cassian for atonement for his past sins."
"You know nothing about our relationship," I said, anger rising.
"I know there's a seventeen-year age gap. I know he's the uncle of your stepsister's fiancé—practically family. I know it's a scandal that will follow you both forever." Her smile was triumphant. "Is that really the foundation you want to build a life on? Secrets and scandal?"
"Better than murder and blackmail," I retorted.
My father slammed his hand on the table. "Enough! This ends now. You will both cease these ridiculous accusations and this inappropriate relationship, or I swear I will destroy everything you've built."
He turned to Cassian. "Your company has contracts with three governments that would immediately cancel if certain information came to light. Information I possess."
To me, he added, "And your fledgling career would never survive the scandal I could create. Every door in the fashion world would close to you forever."
"You're bluffing," Cassian said, though I heard the first note of uncertainty in his voice.
"Try me." My father stood, gathering his papers. "You have twenty-four hours to announce the end of your engagement and Seraphina's return to London. After that, I unleash hell."
As he and Victoria moved to leave, I found my voice again. "I'm not afraid of you anymore."
He paused at the door. "You should be."
After they left, silence descended on the conference room. Orion stared at the documents before him, his expression troubled. Isolde wiped tears from her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have said something years ago."
"Would anyone have believed you?" I asked gently.
"I'm not sure I believe it now," Orion said, running a hand through his hair. "Victoria capable of murder? It seems..."
"Entirely possible," Cassian finished grimly. "The question is, what do we do now?"
I looked at the man I loved, seeing the conflict in his eyes—his desire to protect me warring with his responsibility to his company and the thousands who depended on it.
"We fight," I said, taking his hand. "Together."
His fingers tightened around mine, but I saw the shadow of doubt cross his face. My father's threats had found their mark.
And for the first time since our engagement, I wondered if our love could truly withstand the storm that was coming.
