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.”
I search the room again for Blake as I finish my speech, desperately seeking his approval for what I’ve just done. I still cannot find him, but I imagine if he heard me somewhere in the room, I made him proud.
And I hate that I care.
"This is ridiculous." Edmund's voice cuts through the noise. He's at the platform now, trying to project authority even as I see the panic in his eyes. "This girl is delusional. My sister had no children. This claim is fraudulent."
"Is it?" I pull folded copies of the documents Talia gave me out of my clutch. I have my DNA results, genealogy records, all of it. "Because I have proof. Legal, binding, incontrovertible proof. Would you like to examine it, or would you prefer to explain to everyone here why less than fifteen minutes ago you tried to pay me to go away?”
The ballroom erupts into verbal chaos. Questions shouted are shouted from every direction of the room. Helena's team moves in, creating a barrier between the crowd and me. But I'm not done.
"My mother died because she tried to claim what was rightfully hers and because men like Edmund Kingsley believe power is something you inherit, not something you earn." My voice rises. "That ends tonight. I'm claiming my seat on the Kingsley board. I'm exercising my proxy votes. And I'm using every resource at my disposal to expose the crimes that have been committed in the name of family legacy and restore my mother and grandmother’s good names.”
"Security!" Edmund shouts. "Remove her. She's trespassing, making false accusations?—"
"I have a recording," I say clearly. "Of our conversation tonight. You know, when you practically admitted to killing my mother. Should I play it for the guests? ”
