Chapter 59: Chapter Fifty Nine

Arion stared at the thick envelope in his hand. He was still standing in the late Richard McCallen’s study, surrounded by the scent of old wood and leather-bound books wafting faintly from the tall shelves. The letters inside the envelope were not about some ancient conspiracy or secret organization, as he had once angrily and bitterly suspected. No. What lay within were legitimate documents: asset transfers, trust agreements, and—most shocking of all—a copy of Richard McCallen’s last will and testament.

And in that will, Arion’s name was nowhere to be found.

Not as successor. Not as majority shareholder. Not even as a recipient of any family property. Instead, Harriet’s name appeared on nearly every major clause, appointed as the trustee of the estate, the overseer of the foundation, and temporary owner of The McCallen Hotels until Richard’s legitimate grandchild was born and came of age.

Arion crushed the paper in his hand, his breathing heavy.

“Is this all just a game?” he whispered. “Or… revenge?”

He knew Harriet was far more cunning than she appeared. Beneath her graceful, always-smiling public persona lay sharp ambition. But Richard? His own father? How could the man erase his biological son’s existence from the company’s history?

Arion’s phone vibrated in his suit pocket. A message from Clara, his longtime family lawyer:

We need to talk. There’s something off about the will’s validity.

Arion didn’t reply. He simply grabbed his coat and left the room with heavy steps.

Clara was waiting for him in the corner of a lounge at one of McCallen Hotels’ branches in Canary Wharf, carrying a digital tablet and several printed documents. She stood up the moment she saw Arion enter.

“I won’t stay long,” Arion said coldly. “Get to the point.”

Clara opened a document and slid it across the table. “I reviewed all the notarized files processed before Richard’s death. This will was signed just two weeks before he died, and it was done privately—without a neutral witness. That’s highly unusual for assets of this magnitude.”

Arion frowned. “You think it’s fake?”

“Not entirely. I think… it was drafted under pressure or manipulation. Harriet’s fingerprints are all over the process—from setting the meetings with the notary to pushing it through probate court.”

“And my father allowed it?” Arion asked bitterly.

Clara looked at him with empathy. “I don’t think your father was in a stable state. Some insiders say he appeared exhausted, often disoriented, even spoke like someone losing his grip on reality. But none of it was officially recorded—because, you know, the family reputation had to be preserved.”

Arion slumped in his chair. The world he thought he’d built alongside his father—with all its pride and ideals—was far more fragile than he realized. And now, the young woman who had become his father’s second wife controlled everything.

“Is there a legal loophole?” Arion asked quietly.

Clara nodded. “There is. But we’ll have to fight it in court. And it will be very public.”

Arion looked out the lounge window. Cloudy London seemed to reflect the storm inside his mind. “Let the public see, Clara. I won’t sit by while my family legacy is stolen by that opportunistic woman.”

Two days later, Arion attended an emergency board meeting called by Harriet. The main conference room at The McCallen Hotels’ headquarters was filled with key shareholders and executive directors. Harriet sat at the head of the table, dressed in an ivory suit, welcoming everyone with a calm smile.

As Arion entered, all eyes turned to him. Some sympathetic. Others… wary.

“Colleagues,” Harriet began in her usual composed tone, “we all know the company’s dynamic has shifted since Richard’s passing. I’m not here to demand control, but to ensure McCallen’s grand vision lives on.”

Arion gave a thin smile. “Grand vision? You mean the vision you seized by manipulating the will?”

The room tensed. A few directors exchanged looks, clearly surprised Arion would speak so directly.

Harriet kept smiling. “Arion, this is not a place for emotion. This is a professional forum.”

“Then let’s speak professionally, Harriet,” Arion said, turning to face the entire board. “I, Arion McCallen, formally challenge the legality of the will read two weeks ago. I’ve brought legal counsel, witnesses, and compelling evidence that the will was drafted under questionable conditions. And if necessary, I’ll take this to court.”

Murmurs echoed through the boardroom. Some began taking notes. Others whispered.

Harriet stared at Arion. Her expression remained calm, but her hands tightened slightly beneath the table.

“If that’s your move, then we’ll face it in the appropriate venue,” she said coolly. “But until then, my position as acting executive overseer remains valid. And I urge all board members not to let personal disputes destabilize the company.”

Arion didn’t respond. He simply stood and nodded to Clara, who was seated among the observers.

The battle had begun.

That night, Arion returned to his apartment in Kensington. He opened the windows and let the night air in. Outside, the streets were quiet—only the occasional car passed.

On his desk lay an old wooden box—the only item Richard had personally handed him before passing. Not a house. Not shares. Not the company. Just a dusty wooden box.

Carefully, Arion opened it again.

Inside, alongside childhood photos, was an old voice recording—a mini cassette that looked worn. Arion placed it into an old player beside the desk.

Richard’s deep voice crackled through, faint and slow.

"If you're hearing this, Arion… it means I'm gone. I don’t know if I made the right decision. I wanted to protect you from the chaos that might follow my death. Harriet is no simple woman. She knows how to survive. But remember this: never be afraid to fight for what is rightfully yours. The McCallen blood was not meant to be defeated by deceit..."

The recording cut off there. The tape, it seemed, had been damaged.

Arion closed his eyes and clenched his fists tightly. He knew now—Harriet likely hadn’t acted alone. And he was sure the board was divided between those loyal to the McCallen name and those tempted by Harriet’s promises of swift power.

He would have to tread carefully. This wasn’t just about inheritance. This was about family honor.

And he would not lose.