Chapter 54 - The Broken Scion’s Trial
The heavy iron doors at the rear of the Great Hall groaned open.
Four Directorate guards, their sidearms drawn, dragged a man across the frozen stone floor. He was bound in heavy steel chains, his clothes torn and stained with sweat, mud, and cheap liquor. His head hung low, his body shaking uncontrollably from cold and sheer terror.
They threw him to his knees at the foot of the dais.
"Raise your head, Richard," I said. My voice was not loud, but in the acoustic perfection of the medieval hall, it struck like an iron bell.
Richard Vance flinched violently at the sound of my voice. Slowly, painfully, he lifted his face.
His jaw dropped. His bloodshot eyes widened until the whites were ringed in red veins. He looked at the eleven aristocratic titans of Europe standing in solemn silence. He looked at the armed guards in matte-black armor. And finally, his gaze traveled up the marble steps, stopping upon me—seated upon the silver throne, flanked by the Chancellor of the High Directorate.
"E-Eleanor?" he stammered, his voice cracking into a pathetic whimper. "No... no, this is impossible. This is a trick. Mother... Mother said you were nobody! She said your father was a failed accountant from Maine!"
A cold ripple of dry laughter echoed from the Belgian delegate at the table.
"A failed accountant," the delegate mused in French. "To refer to Alistair Whitaker—the man whose personal private bank underwrote the reconstruction of post-war Europe—as an accountant is perhaps the greatest tragedy of American ignorance."
"Richard," I said, leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "Five years ago, you walked into my life under your mother's instructions. You were told to court me, marry me, and keep me docile in your Manhattan penthouse while Lillian and Victoria slowly dismantled the Whitaker trusts from the shadows."
Richard began to weep, tears cutting clean lines through the grime on his cheeks. "Eleanor, please! I didn't know! I swear to God, I didn't know the extent of it! Sloane... Sloane forced my hand! She threatened to expose my offshore losses to the board!"
"Do not insult this hall by speaking of your mistress," I said coldly. "Sloane Avery is currently sitting in a holding cell at Rikers Island, discovering that the five million dollars you promised her in bearer bonds were canceled seventy-two hours ago. She has already signed a thirty-page confession naming you as the co-conspirator in the embezzlement of Whitaker charitable foundations."
"I loved you!" Richard screamed, thrashing against his chains, his face contorted in desperation. "Eleanor, remember our wedding! Remember the vows we took! I was weak, yes, but we were husband and wife!"
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"You were never my husband, Richard," I answered softly, standing from the throne. "You were simply a squatter in an empire you lacked the intellect to understand."
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