PART 4: The Vulture’s Counter-Attack

PART 4: The Vulture’s Counter-Attack

Disgraced socialites plot ruthless legal vengeance.

While we sat in the quiet security of the private study, miles away in a dimly lit penthouse overlooking Boston Harbor, Celeste Winthrop was busy plotting her revenge.

Her engagement was shattered. Her social standing was vaporized. Her access to the Vale fortune was locked behind an iron door of corporate mandates.

She stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass window, holding a glass of scotch, her phone pressed tightly against her ear.

“I don't care what it costs, Marcus,” Celeste hissed into the device, her voice vibrating with venom. “Find a loophole in the original trust documentation. Prove that the mother—Elena—was legally disowned before she died, or find a way to claim the child is illegitimate.”

On the other end of the line, a slick corporate attorney named Marcus Vance cleared his throat cautiously.

“Celeste, fighting Adrian Vale on family trust distribution is a nuclear war,” Marcus warned. “The primary charter is ironclad. If Elena’s bloodline is verified by DNA, the courts will hand over a third of the estate holdings immediately.”

“Then we don't let them verify it through court channels!” Celeste snapped, slamming her glass down onto the marble counter. “We discredit her before the genealogical audit is filed. Dig into the server’s background. Find every debt, every eviction notice, every unpaid utility bill from that wretched little dance studio. Paint her as an unstable, fraudulent opportunist trying to con a billionaire family.”

“And the child?” Marcus asked hesitantly.

“Especially the child,” Celeste whispered darkly. “If the public believes the mother is a scam artist, Adrian won't dare acknowledge them without destroying his own corporate credibility.”

Celeste ended the call, her reflection in the glass twisting into an ugly, triumphant smile.

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She had spent five years climbing into the inner circle of the Vale family.

She was not going to be displaced by a nameless waitress and a dancing six-year-old without tearing the entire dynasty down around them.