Chapter 8 - The Genetic Proof
The boardroom erupted into chaos.
Several board members stood up, shouting over one another, demanding explanations, documents, and proof. Robert Sterling, the senior vice president, slammed his hands on the table to restore order.
"Hold on! Everyone, sit down!" Sterling demanded, adjusting his glasses as he glared at Elena and Julian. "Ms. Vance—whoever you claim to be—you cannot simply walk into a Fortune 500 boardroom, quote corporate bylaws, and seize control of a multi-billion-dollar corporation without ironclad, legally binding forensic verification. Where are the medical DNA test results? Where is the federal magistrate's seal?"
Victoria seized on Sterling’s words like a drowning woman grasping a lifeline. Her confidence rushed back, fueled by desperation.
"He's right!" Victoria screamed, pointing a shaking finger at Elena. "She’s a fraud! An actress hired by Julian to execute a hostile takeover! I demand an independent, third-party DNA paternity matching process certified by an accredited federal lab before she takes another step!"
Julian Vance smiled—a cold, knowing smile that made Victoria’s blood run cold.
"Third-party federal lab certification?" Julian repeated smoothly. "Glad you asked, Victoria. We anticipated your desperate denial."
Julian reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick, official document bearing the gold seal of the State Department of Forensic Medicine and Genetics. He slid it across the mahogany table directly in front of Robert Sterling.
"Open it, Robert," Julian instructed. "Read it aloud to the board."
Sterling swallowed hard, adjusted his glasses, and opened the manila folder. He scanned the first page, his eyes growing wider with every passing second. His breath hitched in his throat.
"Well?" Victoria demanded, snapping her fingers. "Read it! Prove she’s a nobody!"
Sterling looked up slowly, his face drained of color. He looked at Victoria, then at Elena, with profound shock.
"The... the DNA swab was taken from the historical hair follicles preserved in Arthur Vance’s personal safety deposit box, matched against a fresh cheek swab taken from Ms. Elena Vance upon her arrival at Ravenwood Manor," Sterling read aloud, his voice trembling slightly. "The genetic concordance rate is... ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine percent. Direct biological daughter and sole surviving legal heir of Arthur and Catherine Vance."
The boardroom went dead silent.
Victoria staggered backward, her legs hitting her chair as she collapsed into it, staring blankly at the paper. "No... no, that's impossible. We burned everything. We destroyed the hospital records..."
"You forgot about the private family vault at St. Jude's Cathedral, Victoria," Julian said softly, stepping closer to her chair. "Your brother Arthur was smarter than you gave him credit for. He anticipated your treachery years before the fire. He deposited his personal genetic profile and legal custody instructions with the church diocese, sealed under a sixty-year confidentiality decree that only his true-born child could unlock upon turning twenty-five."
Elena stepped around the table until she stood right beside Victoria’s chair. She looked down at her aunt—the woman who had tried to erase her existence, left her to grow up in poverty, and attempted to dismiss her as a peasant on the dusty roadside.
"You called me a barefoot peasant," Elena said quietly, her voice carrying the terrifying weight of a queen reclaiming her throne. "You thought you could steal my father’s legacy, spend his money, and bury my family’s name in the dirt."
Elena reached down, grabbed the heavy corporate seal from in front of Victoria, and lifted it off the stand.
"You forgot one fundamental rule, Victoria," Elena whispered into her ear. "Blood always remembers."
Before Victoria could speak, the two federal marshals stepped forward, clicking heavy steel handcuffs around Victoria's wrists with a sharp, echoing clank.
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"Victoria Vance, you are under arrest for corporate embezzlement, federal fraud, conspiracy to commit murder, and industrial extortion," the lead marshal announced, reading her rights as he hauled her to her feet.
As Victoria was dragged kicking and screaming out of the boardroom, her expensive Chanel suit dragging against the carpet, the remaining members of the board of directors slowly stood up, one by one, bowing their heads in absolute submission to the new sovereign of Ravenwood.
