Chapter 6
“As of twelve minutes ago, Sullivan Group has been placed into Chapter 11 corporate restructuring under the direction of Aegis Capital. The Sullivan family’s voting shares have been diluted to four percent non-voting equity. Richard Sullivan is removed as Chairman. Ethan Sullivan is terminated immediately as Executive Vice President.”
“You can’t do this!” Margaret shrieked, breaking through the row of chairs, her face twisted in rage. “You’re nobody! A barren, pathetic girl who couldn’t even give my son an heir! You have nothing! You belong in the dirt where Ethan found you!”
The room went dead silent. Even the most hardened executives looked appalled by her cruelty.
I looked at Margaret. For three years, that woman’s tongue had carved scars into my soul. She had made me weep in locked bathrooms, made me question my worth as a woman, made me believe I was incomplete.
Now, looking at her, I felt nothing. Not even anger. Only a clean, icy pity.
I reached into the inner pocket of the dossier and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
“You spent three years calling me barren, Margaret,” I said softly, every word enunciated with crystalline clarity. “You convinced your son to discard me because I couldn't provide your precious Sullivan bloodline with an heir.”
I extended the paper toward Ethan.
He didn't want to take it, but his fingers moved involuntarily, snatching the parchment from the air.
It was a certified medical affidavit, accompanied by three birth certificates and certified DNA parentage profiles authenticated by a court-appointed laboratory.
Ethan looked down. His eyes scanned the names:
Leo Sullivan Bennett.Julian Sullivan Bennett.Clara Sullivan Bennett.
Date of birth: Seven months after our divorce.
Parentage: 99.99% biological match to Ethan Sullivan.
Ethan’s knees literally gave out. He caught himself on the altar rail, his knuckles turning white, his chest heaving as if he had run a marathon through fire.
“T-triplets?” he whispered, his voice trembling so violently he could barely form the syllables. “We… we had triplets?”
Margaret froze where she stood, the color draining from her lips until they were gray. “What did you say? Ethan… what did he say?”
“Three healthy, beautiful children,” I said, looking straight into Margaret’s horrified, longing eyes. “Two boys and a girl. They have your eyes, Ethan. They have your family’s stubborn chin. And not a single one of them will ever carry your name, enter your house, or know you as anything more than a legal footnote.”