Chapter Seventy Three

Chapter Seventy Three
Arion stared at his laptop screen without blinking. The voices in Richard McCallen’s recording still echoed in his ears—his father’s last words, filled with regret and warning. Harriet and Philippe Vasseur weren’t just threats; they were daggers buried in the heart of the McCallen family.

And now, Theodore.

Arion replayed one of the emails his cousin had sent to Harriet two months before Richard’s death. It was short, but horrifying:

“He’s too stubborn. We need a more drastic move. If you can get Richard to legally appoint you, the rest will fall into place.”

His eyes narrowed. The entire surface of his desk was now covered in printed documents, financial records, and corporate statements. Simon Mercer sat across from him, his normally crisp shirt wrinkled, his face drawn.

“Harriet isn’t just a manipulative young wife,” Arion said quietly. “She’s a pawn in a far bigger game. And Theodore... he’s a wolf in the family’s skin.”

Simon nodded. “I’ve contacted a private investigator. If we can tie Philippe to a hostile acquisition in Argentina five years ago, we might have grounds for international violation.”

“Good.” Arion grabbed his coat. “I’m going to see Theodore.”

Simon hesitated. “Going straight to the source?”

“No time for games,” Arion said coldly. “If he played with fire, he’d better be ready to burn.”

Theodore McCallen’s office was in London’s busiest financial district, a newly renovated glass tower funded by company money. Arion walked in without an appointment. Theodore’s secretary stood up in a panic when she saw him.

“Mr. McCallen, I’m sorry, Mr. Theodore is in a meeting—”

“Not anymore.” Arion strode straight to the door and pushed it open.

Theodore stood when he saw him. Two executives were seated, but Arion waved them off.

“Give us the room.”

Once they were alone, Arion tossed a printed email onto the table. “Care to explain this?”

Theodore stared at the page, then back at his cousin. “You hacked me?”

“No need to hack someone who leaves digital breadcrumbs everywhere,” Arion said with a cold grin. “I know you’re in on it with Harriet. You want me out. But why, Theo? You already have shares, a title, a legacy. Why betrayal?”

Theodore sat back. “Because I’m tired of being your shadow, Arion. Ever since we were kids, everyone adored you. Even when your father almost ruined the company, they still looked to you as the savior.”

“I never asked to be the savior,” Arion replied. “I just tried to protect this family’s honor.”

“And now you stand here, righteous as ever.” Theodore sneered. “But I won’t apologize. Harriet’s smarter than you think.”

Arion stared him down. “You’ve sealed your fate.”

He walked out without giving Theodore another word.

That night, in the McCallen estate, Arion sat in the grand drawing room, which now felt more like a battleground. Harriet appeared in the doorway, elegant in a crimson satin gown, eyes sharp with calculation.

“You move fast,” she said lightly.

“So do you,” Arion shot back. “I thought you’d wait a little longer before trying to take over.”

“I didn’t take anything. Everything was legally given to me by my husband.”

“With papers signed while he was barely conscious?” Arion rose. “I have proof. About you, Philippe, and Theodore. Trust me, Harriet—this is just the beginning.”

Her smile was deadly. “Then let’s see who survives longest.”

Two days later, an emergency board meeting was called. Harriet sat beside Arion as executive overseer. The board members were tense. Simon distributed the initial investigation report—enough to spark internal audits.

Arion stood first.

“In the past months, there has been a systematic effort to dismantle the family leadership of this company. I have evidence that Harriet Legrand—my late father’s wife—has been working with Philippe Vasseur, a known corporate infiltrator. My cousin, Theodore McCallen, has also communicated plans to remove me from leadership.”

Whispers filled the room.

Harriet stood. “These are baseless accusations. Will you all allow a wounded child’s emotions to destabilize our company?”

Simon interjected. “We’ve submitted the documents for external audit. If we don’t receive clarification within three days, a formal investigation will begin.”

An older board member, Lawrence Brenner, raised a hand. “If Arion’s claims hold weight, we must consider suspending Harriet’s authority pending results.”

Harriet turned to Arion with a poisonous smile. “You’re bold, Arion. But boldness isn’t victory.”

Arion looked ahead. “I don’t need victory. I need the truth.”

That evening, as rain poured over London, Arion stood at his father’s grave. Richard McCallen’s tombstone stood solemnly under the storm. Arion clenched the flash drive containing Selene’s recordings.

“Rest easy, Father,” he whispered. “I won’t let them destroy our name. Not Harriet. Not Theodore. Not anyone.”

Arion descended the grand staircase of McCallen Manor with steady steps. Every carving on the walls, every aged painting hanging in the corridor now felt like a reminder of the legacy being wrested from his hands. In the drawing room, he found Simon standing near the fireplace, holding a dark-colored folder.

"This is the preliminary investigation report on Philippe Vasseur," Simon said, handing him the folder. "I've also contacted two board members who are still loyal to you. They’ve agreed to meet in secret tomorrow night."

Arion opened the folder and read the summary of Philippe’s profile. It was full of suspicious activity: involvement in aggressive acquisition schemes, funding from shell companies, and affiliations with several shadow law firms in France and Switzerland.

“This man is like a phantom. Never appears directly, but always lingers behind the chaos,” Arion muttered.

Simon nodded. “And he always uses others as pawns. Including Harriet.”

Arion closed his eyes for a moment. Then his gaze sharpened as he opened them.

“It’s time to turn this game on its head,” he said quietly but firmly. “I will not let McCallen Hotels fall into the hands of traitors.”