Chapter 14 - Cold Embers at the Estate
The wrought-iron gates of the Caldwell estate in Greenwich groaned open like the jaws of an ancient beast.
Rain lashed against the windshield of my modest sedan as I drove up the winding, tree-lined avenue.
A year ago, I would have arrived here in a chauffeur-driven Maybach, arrogant and indifferent to the suffering of ordinary mortals.
Tonight, I arrived with grease on my knuckles and the smell of pediatric antiseptic still clinging to my collar.
The sprawling limestone mansion rose against the stormy black sky, its windows blazing with artificial light.
Dozens of luxury limousines lined the circular gravel driveway, their drivers standing under black umbrellas.
I parked my beat-up car right beside a silver Rolls-Royce, stepped out into the pouring rain, and marched toward the grand entrance.
The butler, an elderly man named Stevens who had served my family for forty years, opened the door with a look of deep sorrow in his eyes.
"Master Sebastian," he whispered softly, his voice heavy with grief.
"You shouldn't have come."
"I had no choice, Stevens."
I walked past the crystal chandeliers and into the cavernous formal library where the private summit was being held.
The heavy mahogany doors swung open, and the hum of conversation instantly died.
My father, Richard Caldwell, sat in a high-backed leather wing chair by the roaring marble fireplace.
He looked older, thinner, his face lined with the bitter poison of wounded pride, but his steel-gray eyes burned with the same tyrannical malice.
Victoria sat beside him on a velvet settee, sipping vintage champagne, while four corporate attorneys in bespoke charcoal suits stood silently behind them.
"You kept us waiting, Sebastian," my father announced, his voice carrying the dry rasp of a winter wind.
"Call off the injunction on the pharmaceutical production lines, Richard," I demanded without preamble, standing in the center of the room soaking wet.
"I am not here to play games with children’s lives."
"Children?" Richard scoffed, setting down his crystal tumbler with a sharp, heavy thud.
"You threw away an entire dynasty for an orphaned scrub nurse and a bastard child born in a basement ward."
"Do not speak his name," I roared, taking two aggressive steps forward.
The security guards along the perimeter tensed, their hands reaching inside their suit jackets.
"He is my son," I declared, my voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
"And Rowan is the woman I love."
"Love is an illusion reserved for the weak, Sebastian," Richard spat, rising slowly from his chair with the help of a silver-headed cane.
"You are a Caldwell."
"You will sign the joint merger agreement with Victoria’s holding firm tonight."
"You will announce your wedding date to the press in the ballroom down the hall."
"And the child?" I asked, my blood running cold as I waited for the trap to spring.
May you like
"The child will be quietly adopted into an international boarding family in Switzerland with a trust fund large enough to keep him comfortable for life," Richard said coldly.
"And Dr. Miller will receive five million dollars to sign a non-disclosure agreement and leave this country forever."
