Chapter 3: The Bloodline Denial
The Sterling Manor was a fortress of cold stone and colder hearts. The massive iron gates had closed behind Arthur’s car, shutting out the paparazzi that had already swarmed like vultures upon hearing the news of the canceled billionaire wedding.
Inside the cavernous living room, the atmosphere was toxic.
"You are making a monumental mistake, Arthur!" Eleanor paced the Persian rug, her heels clicking aggressively. "You cancel a merger between the Sterling and Vanguard empires over a forged letter and two dirty beggars?"
Arthur sat on the leather sofa, holding a glass of scotch he hadn't sipped. Across the room, Leo and Mia sat rigidly on a velvet chair. Mia had fallen asleep, her head resting on her brother's shoulder. Leo watched everything with eyes far too old for his eight years.
"The letter was Elena’s," Arthur said coldly. "I know her handwriting. I know her phrasing."
"Elena is dead!" Victoria shouted from the doorway. She had followed them to the manor, refusing to accept defeat. Her wedding dress had been replaced by a sleek designer dress, but her eyes were red with fury. "She died years ago in that car crash! These kids are a scam. A pathetic, money-grabbing scam orchestrated by some con artist who found an old sample of her writing."
"Look at him, Mother," Arthur pointed at Leo. "Look at his face and tell me he doesn't carry Sterling blood."
Eleanor refused to look. "Resemblances happen every day. If you are so blindly convinced, then let science speak. A DNA test. Immediately. From my personal clinic."
Arthur narrowed his eyes. He remembered the last time he trusted his mother's 'personal clinic'—it was the same clinic that produced the medical report claiming Elena had miscarried before she disappeared.
"We will do a DNA test," Arthur agreed, his tone dangerously calm. "But not at your clinic, Mother. I will select an independent laboratory."
Eleanor’s eyes flickered with a micro-second of panic before she smoothed her expression into a mask of offended dignity. "Fine. Waste your time. But when the results prove these brats are not yours, I want them thrown out on the streets, and I expect you to grovel on your hands and knees to apologize to Victoria."
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Arthur stood up, walking over to the children. He scooped the sleeping Mia into his arms and offered a hand to Leo. The boy hesitated, analyzing Arthur's face, before placing his small, rough hand into his father's.
"We are going upstairs," Arthur said without looking back. "If either of you tries to approach these children while we wait for the results, I will burn this family’s empire to the ground with my own hands."
