Chapter 13
Peyton
I can't breathe.
The ballroom is too hot, too crowded, too full of people who look at me like I'm a curiosity instead of a person. Helena's talking—something about security protocols, about getting me out of here safely, about how her organization will protect me now that Blake's proven himself untrustworthy.
Yeah, I didn’t have to tell her. She could tell by the look on my face.
But I can't process any of it. Can't think past the roaring in my ears, the way my chest feels like it's caving in, the absolute certainty that everything I thought I knew was a lie.
Blake knew my mother.
My mother asked him for help.
He sent her away to die.
And he wasn’t ever going to tell me.
"Peyton." Helena's voice cuts through the noise. "Are you listening? Now that Edmund knows where you stand, we need to move you somewhere secure."
"I need a minute.” The words come out strangled as I start moving toward my destination. "I need some air."
"The terrace is too exposed—"
"I don't care." I'm already moving toward the doors, toward the cold, toward anything that isn't this suffocating room full of lies and dangerous men. "I need out. Now."
Helena follows, along with two portly women I vaguely recognize as members of the Frost Society. They flank me as I push through the terrace doors into winter that hits like a slap.
The cold helps. Clears my head enough to think, to process, to start putting together pieces that should have been obvious from the beginning.
Blake's guilt. His desperate need to protect me. The way he looked at me sometimes like he was seeing a ghost.
He wasn't protecting me because he cared. He was protecting me because he owed my mother a debt he could never repay.
"Peyton." Helena's beside me now, coat draped over my shoulders. "Talk to me. What exactly did Edmund tell you about Mr. Delano?”
"The truth. Finally." I grip the railing, knuckles white. "Blake knew my mother. She came to him for help three years ago, and he turned her away."
Helena's quiet for a moment, processing. "Did he tell you why?"
"Does it matter? She asked for help, and he refused. Three months later, she was dead." Tears are freezing on my cheeks. I don't bother wiping them away. "He's been lying to me since the moment we met.”
"Men like Blake carry their failures like anchors," Helena says quietly. "They let past mistakes define their present choices. It doesn't excuse the lie, but it might explain it."
"I don't want explanations. I want—" What do I want? My mother back? The last week erased? To never have met Blake Delano and fallen for a man who would have lied to me for fucking ever?
"You want justice," Helena finishes. "For your mother. For yourself. For every woman this town has crushed under the weight of the ruthless men in this town.”
"Yes."
"Then we give it to you." Helena turns me to face her, and her eyes are fierce, determined. "Edmund made you an offer to sign away your power in exchange for safety. But there's a third option he didn't mention."
"Which is?"
"You activate your inheritance claim. Tonight. Right now. In front of every witness in that ballroom. You become a Kingsley publicly, legally, irrevocably. And then you use that power to destroy everyone who hurt your mother—Edmund, Silas, the entire corrupt system they've built."
"Edmund basically said he'd kill me if I don't accept his offer.”
“Image means everything to the Kingsleys, and it's harder to kill a public figure than a private one. You’ve already set things in motion in the courts, but once you tell all of Wintervale, you’ll be officially recognized, and you’ll become exponentially more complicated to eliminate.
" Helena's smile is sharp. “My organization will stand with you.
We have resources, connections, and decades of documentation on Kingsley and Delano crimes. Together, we can burn them all down."
I cock my head to the side and look at Helena through clear eyes instead of heartbroken ones. “Why?" I ask. "Why do you care? I’m not giving you my votes or my money. So, what's in it for you?”
“I’ve explained this. We want balance and reform to Wintervale's power structure, and out from underneath male dominance.
" Helena doesn't lie about her motivations, at least. "But also justice.
Your mother came to us once, years ago, and we turned her away.
I thought the risk was too high and the evidence too thin.
I was wrong. And have regretted it ever since. "
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? ”
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.