"Yes."
"Then we give it to you." Helena turns me to face her, and her eyes are fierce, determined. "Edmund made you an offer to sign away your power in exchange for safety. But there's a third option he didn't mention."
"Which is?"
"You activate your inheritance claim. Tonight. Right now. In front of every witness in that ballroom. You become a Kingsley publicly, legally, irrevocably. And then you use that power to destroy everyone who hurt your mother—Edmund, Silas, the entire corrupt system they've built."
"Edmund basically said he'd kill me if I don't accept his offer.”
“Image means everything to the Kingsleys, and it's harder to kill a public figure than a private one. You’ve already set things in motion in the courts, but once you tell all of Wintervale, you’ll be officially recognized, and you’ll become exponentially more complicated to eliminate." Helena's smile is sharp. “My organization will stand with you. We have resources, connections, and decades of documentation on Kingsley and Delano crimes. Together, we can burn them all down."
I cock my head to the side and look at Helena through clear eyes instead of heartbroken ones. “Why?" I ask. "Why do you care? I’m not giving you my votes or my money. So, what's in it for you?”
“I’ve explained this. We want balance and reform to Wintervale's power structure, and out from underneath male dominance." Helena doesn't lie about her motivations, at least. "But also justice. Your mother came to us once, years ago, and we turned her away. I thought the risk was too high and the evidence too thin. I was wrong. And have regretted it ever since."
So everyone failed her. Blake, Helena, my father, even me—too naive and in my own immature feelings to realize my mother was fighting a war until it was too late.
"What do I have to do?" I ask.
"Come inside. Make a statement. Claim your inheritance in front of the board members who are here tonight. Force Edmund to acknowledge you publicly." Helena's voice drops. "And trust me. I know that's difficult after Blake's betrayal but my organization has learned from our mistaske. We won't fail you the way he did."
It's a calculated pitch. Using my pain against Blake to bind me closer to her. I recognize the manipulation, even as part of me wants to surrender to it and accept it.
Because what's the alternative? Run? Let Edmund and Silas win because the man I was falling for turned out to be a liar?
"Okay," I say. "I'll do it."
"Good." Helena pulls out her phone, types rapidly. "I'm alerting our people. The board members will be gathered, and witnesses positioned. You'll make your statement in…” She checks her watch. “Fifteen minutes. That gives you time to compose yourself."
"I don't need time. I need to do this before I lose my nerve."
"Then we do it now." Helena guides me back toward the ballroom, her team flanking us. "Remember, you're not just claiming an inheritance. You're claiming the power stolen from your grandmother and your mother. Act like it."
We enter the ballroom, and I feel the shift immediately. People turning, whispers spreading, the attention of five hundred guests focusing on me like a spotlight.
Helena leads me to a raised platform where the string quartet has been playing classical Christmas tunes. She speaks to a violinist, who nods and signals to his musicians to stop.
The music cuts off. Conversations die. Everyone's watching now.
Helena takes the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you’re enjoying yourself on this beautiful Christmas Eve, but if I could have your attention for a moment. Miss Peyton Quinn has an announcement to make. Let’s give her our attention.”
Helena hands me the microphone.
I look out at the crowd at the Kingsley board members scattered throughout, at the politicians and power brokers, at Edmund standing near the back with an expression that promises retribution.
I look for Blake but only find Talia, near the east wing entrance, with an unreadable look on her face.
I clear my throat, and my voice carries across the suddenly silent ballroom.
"My name is Peyton Quinn. Some of you know me as Senator Richard Quinn's daughter, but tonight, I'm here to claim a different legacy." I pause, let that settle. "Three years ago, my mother, Lila Quinn, was murdered. The official ruling was mechanical failure in a tragic car accident. It wasn't. She was killed because she discovered something this town's founding families wanted buried."
Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Edmund's face has gone stony.
"My mother was the daughter of Catherine Kingsley, Edmund Kingsley's sister, which makes me a direct descendant of the Kingsley line. And according to a provision of the family trust, specifically Article Seven, Section Three, I have a legal claim to proxy voting rights and board representation."
The murmurs get louder. Board members exchange glances. Edmund's moving now, pushing through the crowd toward the platform.
"I have DNA verification," I continue, voice steady despite my racing heart. "I have genealogical documentation. I have every piece of legal evidence required to activate the dormant heir clause. And as of this moment, I am formally claiming my inheritance as a daughter of Wintervale.”
