Chapter Sixty Eight

Chapter Sixty Eight
Arion McCallen stood facing the sea, the wind whipping his coat as he tried to steady his breath.
The coastline below the McCallen estate was sharp and cold, mirroring the thoughts that crowded his mind. The confrontation with Harriet had left deep marks—not only because of her authority, but also because of the subtle threat she carried.

Behind him, the footsteps of Simon Mercer, the family’s long-time legal advisor, crunched against the gravel path.
“She won’t back down easily,” Simon said without preamble. “The letter of appointment was signed by your father. Legally binding, unfortunately.”

Arion didn’t turn around.
“He signed it in the last days of his life, under sedation. You know it, Simon.”
“Of course. But proving that will require more than conviction. We need documentation, witnesses—something concrete.”

Arion finally turned. His eyes, sharp and blue, were filled with unspoken rage.
“Then dig. I want everything about Harriet. Where she came from, what she’s hiding. No one comes into our family like that and takes everything.”

Simon hesitated. “There’s more. I received a call this morning. From Geneva.”

Arion narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

“A woman named Selene Dubois. She claims to be your father’s former financial handler in Europe. Said she has something that might interest you. She wouldn’t speak over the phone.”

Arion’s interest sharpened. “Set a meeting. I’ll fly to Geneva tonight.”

Simon hesitated again. “Are you sure you want to leave London now? With Harriet maneuvering the board?”

Arion’s voice was cold. “Let her move. I want to know who exactly I’m dealing with.”

Three days later, Geneva.

The restaurant was discreet, high-end, tucked in a corner of the old city. Selene Dubois was already waiting when Arion arrived. She was in her late forties, elegant, with silver strands in her black hair and a gaze that suggested she’d seen too much.

“Mr. McCallen,” she said, rising.

Arion nodded. “Ms. Dubois.”

They sat. No pleasantries.

“You said you knew my father,” Arion started.

“I did. I managed several of his accounts. Off-the-books ones.” She placed a small flash drive on the table between them. “And I think you need to see what he was protecting from his wife.”

Arion’s hand hovered over the flash drive but didn’t take it. “Why now?”

“Because I don’t like Harriet either. She’s not what she says she is. And I believe your father realized it too—too late.”

“What’s on it?”

“Documents. Transfers. Recordings.” She leaned in. “Including a conversation between your father and someone named Philippe Vasseur. I believe he’s tied to Harriet.”

Arion stiffened.

Selene continued. “Richard was preparing to change the succession of McCallen Hotels. But then he got sick.”

“And suddenly married a woman twenty years younger.”

Selene’s silence confirmed what he suspected.

Arion took the flash drive. “I’ll verify this.”

“You should. And one more thing,” she added. “Be careful with your cousin.”

Arion’s expression darkened. “My cousin?”

“You’ll understand when you listen to the files.”

Back in London.

Arion locked himself in his study and plugged in the flash drive. Hours passed as he combed through the data—emails, financial records, voice memos. The deeper he dug, the more sinister the picture became.

Harriet had been in contact with Philippe Vasseur long before she met Richard. Philippe was a corporate raider, known for infiltrating family businesses through proxies. Harriet wasn’t just a gold digger. She was a plant.

And worse—Arion’s cousin, Theodore McCallen, had been in correspondence with her as well. The emails suggested coordination, plans to slowly discredit Arion and force him out.

A voice memo caught his attention.

Richard’s voice, weak but clear:
“I should’ve never trusted her, Philippe. I know what she’s after. If anything happens to me, Arion must take control. Burn this letter. And protect the legacy.”

Then a cough. Then silence.

Arion clenched his fists.

He stood, fury vibrating through his body, and walked to the window overlooking the city. The skyline glittered, unaware of the war that was brewing in the McCallen family.

This was no longer just about inheritance.

This was war.

Arion paced the study, his mind racing with the implications of what he’d uncovered. Betrayal from within. He could handle Harriet—he had expected that threat. But Theodore? That cut deeper. Blood should have meant loyalty, not conspiracy.

He picked up the phone and dialed Simon. “We need a forensic team on this flash drive. I want every single byte backed up and analyzed. Chain of custody matters—this may end up in court.”

Simon’s voice was calm but urgent. “Understood. And Harriet?”

“I’ll deal with her soon. But first—I want to meet Theodore. Set up a lunch. Somewhere public.”

“Dangerous?”

“Let’s just say I want him where I can see him.”

After the call, Arion returned to the files. Among the encrypted folders was one labeled simply: VAULT. It required a password. He stared at it for a long time, then typed: Arion1936—his grandfather’s birth year. Access denied.

He tried again: McCallenLegacy. Still nothing.

And then, impulsively, he typed: Eleanor.

Access granted.

The folder opened to reveal a video file. Arion clicked it.

On screen, Richard McCallen sat in his private study, noticeably thinner than usual. He looked directly into the camera.

“If you’re watching this, then I’ve either died, or I’ve been taken out of the equation. Harriet is not who she claims to be. She came into my life through Philippe Vasseur—both of them manipulated my illness, my mind, my decisions. I amended my will before things got worse, but I don’t know if that version will survive. Arion, if you’re watching this, the burden is yours now. Protect the company. Protect our name.”

The screen went black.

Arion stood frozen. The truth had been hidden in plain sight. But now, it was a weapon.

And he was ready to use it.