Chapter 7 - The Succession Game
Celeste’s recording lasted four minutes.
I watched it seven times.
Every word was calculated.
“You were born into something you never earned.”
She said.
“A network built from secrets.”
“Governments listen when Vale Dominion speaks.”
“Banks freeze accounts.”
“Boards remove executives.”
“Investigators receive evidence.”
“People call that justice.”
“My father called it monarchy.”
The video cut to a photograph of Victor Sloane standing beside my father decades earlier.
They looked young.
Confident.
Almost like brothers.
Celeste continued.
“When Elias removed Victor, he didn’t destroy the system.”
“He crowned himself.”
“Now he plans to crown you.”
The screen went black.
Then one final sentence appeared.
THERE SHOULD BE NO CROWN.
Dad stood behind me.
“She believes Vale Dominion should be dismantled.”
“Does she?”
He looked at me.
“What do you mean?”
“She could have exposed you publicly.”
“She could have leaked your clients.”
“She could have destroyed the company directly.”
“Instead she spent years manipulating Nathan.”
I pointed at the screen.
“She wanted Ashford Global weakened.”
“She wants Halcyon strengthened.”
“She wanted me named successor.”
Dad’s expression tightened.
“She’s forcing consolidation.”
Rachel understood first.
“Control.”
I nodded.
“Celeste doesn’t want to destroy the crown.”
“She wants it.”
We began tracing every company linked to Halcyon Maritime.
The structure was deliberately complex.
Investment funds owned subsidiaries.
Subsidiaries owned trusts.
Trusts owned holding companies.
Most trails ended in Switzerland, Singapore, Cyprus, or the Cayman Islands.
One did not.
A holding company in Nevada controlled eight percent of Halcyon.
Its beneficiary was Cassandra Sloane.
Celeste.
But another twelve percent belonged to an unnamed trust.
The trustee was familiar.
The same dead attorney linked to my mysterious Ashford Global shares.
Rachel stared at the documents.
“Someone gave you twenty-three percent of Nathan’s company.”
“Someone also controls twelve percent of Halcyon.”
Dad said.
“And the same lawyer built both structures.”
“Victor?”
“Maybe.”
“But he’s dead.”
Dad looked unconvinced.
I remembered something.
“How did Victor die?”
“Car accident.”
“Body?”
Dad went silent.
My stomach dropped.
“Was there a body?”
“The vehicle burned.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Dental records were used.”
“Who identified them?”
Dad did not answer quickly enough.
“You.”
He finally nodded.
The room seemed to tilt.
“You never questioned it?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Years later.”
“And?”
“The dentist who provided the records disappeared.”
Rachel whispered.
“My God.”
Dad looked older suddenly.
“I spent ten years wondering whether Victor Sloane survived.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because every credible lead died.”
My phone rang.
Nathan.
From federal detention.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
His voice was weak.
“Claire.”
“What do you want?”
“I need to see you.”
“No.”
“You don’t understand Celeste.”
“Neither did you.”
“She used me.”
“You volunteered.”
Silence.
Then Nathan said something that changed everything.
“She told me your father killed hers.”
I looked at Dad.
Nathan continued.
“But three months ago, I saw Victor Sloane.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Where?”
“At Celeste’s house.”
Dad stepped closer.
May you like
Nathan whispered.
“He’s alive.”
