Chapter 8 Peyton #5
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? ”
I pressed record and placed my cell phone in my purse for a little insurance. Sometimes people forget that the most obvious weapon of destruction can be their own words hurled back at them.
His face goes from stone to rage. "You bitch.”
"Careful." Helena steps forward, voice carrying authority. "You're surrounded by board members and Wintervale elite who are learning for the first time that there’s a new player on the board. This is chess, not checkers. Think carefully about your next move because I am, old friend.”
Edmund looks around and sees his support crumbling. Board members are backing away, and political allies are suddenly very interested in their drinks. The careful alliance he's built is fracturing in real-time. It’s a beautiful thing to watch.
"This isn't over," he says quietly, viciously. "You think you've won? You've just painted a target on your back that will never come off."
“Thank you for the warning.” I hand the microphone back to Helena. "I'm done being afraid of men like you."
Edmund turns and walks away, pushing through the crowd with whatever dignity he has left.
I step down from the platform, and the crowd parts for me. Some faces show respect. Others show calculation as if they’re already trying to figure out how to use this new power dynamic to their advantage.
I don't care. I did it. I claimed my inheritance publicly, with witnesses, in a way that Edmund can't quietly undo.
My mother would be proud.
The thought makes tears threaten again, but I push them back. Not here. Not now.
Helena's beside me immediately. "Well done. That was perfect."
"What happens now?"
"Now, if we’re to believe what Talia suspects about Silas Delano, we need to get you out of here and somewhere secure.
The board will need to convene, verify your claim formally, and with this many witnesses, they can't avoid doing it.
" She guides me toward an exit. "Edmund will regroup, probably try to challenge this legally, but–”
A scream cuts through the noise.
Then another.
People are running, surging toward exits in sudden panic.
"What's happening?" I ask, suddenly frightened, immediately looking for Blake again.
Shit, where is he?
Helena's face goes pale. "Fire alarm." She pulls out her phone and checks something. "Smoke detected in the east wing. Multiple sources."
Fire.
Suddenly, Talia approaches. “We need to go.”
"Blake?” I question her.
“He went to the east wing,” she reveals with a worried look on her face. “To meet Silas. I’m not going to leave him.”
"We need to evacuate," Helena interrupts, already moving.
"No, Blake's in there." Then I stop myself. He lied to me. Betrayed me. Why do I still care about his well-being? Because I bet, he's in that burning wing of the estate, still trying to protect me.
"Peyton, we don't have time.”
"I'm not leaving him." I pull away from Helena and start moving against the crowd toward the east wing with Talia.
"Peyton, don't be stupid. He wouldn't do this for you.”
“Maybe,” I tell her. "But I'm not him. I don't leave people behind."
“That’s some bullshit what you just said,” Talia says as we push through the panicking crowd. “You’re being too hard on my brother.”
As we trudge toward the east wing, the smoke is getting thicker, and panic starts to settle in my chest. What if Blake is in real trouble?
Even if he doesn't deserve to be saved, even if this is the stupidest thing I've ever done, I'm finishing what my mother started, and that means saving the man who failed to save her, because that's what justice looks like when you're the one playing by the rules to a new playbook.
The smoke gets thicker. The heat is more intense. Somewhere in the building, Silas's plan is working exactly as he designed it.
But he didn't plan for me.
That's my advantage.
And hopefully Blake’s salvation.
BLAKE
The east wing corridor is empty when I arrive.
Too empty. No staff. No guests who've wandered off from the party. Just expensive art, thick carpet, and the kind of silence that says someone's cleared the area deliberately.
Silas is here. I can feel that particular charge in the air that comes from facing someone who wants you dead but needs to talk first. I know it well. It’s a common Delano state of mind.
I keep my hand near my Glock, scan for threats, and move deeper into the shadows of the hallway.
"Blake." Silas's voice comes from a doorway to my right. "I wondered if you'd actually come."
"You said we needed to talk."
"We do." He steps into view, and he looks different than the last time I saw him. He looks older, harder, like the mask he wears in public has finally cracked. "But first, empty your pockets. Gun, phone, anything else you're carrying."
"Not happening."
"Then this conversation is over, and I proceed with my original plan." Silas's smile is cold. "Your choice. But if you want to save those assholes downstairs, you'll comply."
I weigh my options. Fighting here accomplishes nothing. I need to know what he's planning, and I need to buy time for Talia to get Peyton out.
Slowly, I pull out the Glock and set it on a side table. I take out my phone next and my knife from my ankle holster.
"Good." Silas gestures to the room behind him. "Inside."
It's a conference room, windows overlooking the gardens, a long table dominating the space. And sitting at the far end is a person I was hoping not to see.
"Luca." My brother looks up, and I see the guilt immediately. He's part of this. Whatever Silas has planned, Luca's involved. My father has to be rolling over in his grave.
"Blake." His voice is rough, uncertain. "I tried to warn you. Tried to get you to leave before.”
"Before what?" I ask, though I'm starting to understand.
"Before I eliminate the obstacles preventing our family from controlling this town completely." Silas closes the door behind us and locks it. "The Kingsley board. Edmund's children. Everyone who might oppose our consolidation of power."
“Silas, we do back-door deals with half of the people in that ballroom. Your big plan is to commit a mass murder on Christmas Eve and kill them all? ”
"I'm planning a strategic elimination during an unfortunate accident." Silas moves to the windows, looks down at the party continuing below. "A fire, specifically. Your favorite tactic.”
“Jesus, Silas.”
“It’ll start in this wing, spreading rapidly through accelerant-soaked materials. Then, in the chaos of evacuation, certain high-value targets will be... delayed. Trapped. They’ll be tragic casualties of a terrible accident."
My stomach drops. "You're going to burn them alive."
"I'm going to burn this building. What happens to the people inside depends on how quickly they evacuate.
" Silas turns back to me. "But you, nephew, you're here for a different reason. I held a family meeting that you purposely avoided, and now you’ve forced my hand.
I need to know if you're with the family or against us.”
"You already know the answer."
"Do I?”
“I’ve got the same last name as you.”
“I’m the one who brought you home after you tried to annihilate one of my businesses, but now you’re keeping the Quinn girl from me. Disobeying orders. It doesn’t feel like family loyalty.” Silas's voice hardens. “Remember, your father made the same mistake going rogue, and it got him killed."