Chapter 2 - The Funeral and the Arrogant Heir
The Gothic arches of the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity loomed dark against a weeping, overcast Chicago sky. Three days had passed since Eleanor Vance’s death, three days during which the media had whipped themselves into a frenzy over the passing of one of the city’s most philanthropic matriarchs.
Black town cars and armored SUVs lined the perimeter of the church, discharging the city’s elite—senators, old-money developers, tech executives, and high-society couples dressed in varying shades of expensive mourning attire.
Ethan Vance stood on the cathedral steps, looking every bit the grieving, powerful son. He wore a tailored black wool coat, his hair perfectly coiffed, though his eyes darted nervously toward the street every time a new vehicle pulled up. Beside him stood Chloe.
Despite Ethan’s frantic warnings to keep a low profile until the divorce papers were signed, Chloe had insisted on attending. She wore a black silk maternity dress that intentionally highlighted her six-month pregnancy, her arm tightly looped through Ethan’s as if establishing her domain before the eyes of God and high society.
"Ethan, people are staring," Chloe whispered, her voice laced with a mixture of anxiety and pride. "Let them see us. They need to get used to it anyway."
"Quiet, Chloe," Ethan hissed through his teeth, nodding politely to a passing federal judge. "This is my mother’s funeral. The press is everywhere. If the board sees me flaunting an affair before the ink is dry on Maya’s settlement, the stock price will take a hit before the market opens on Monday."
"Well, where is Maya?" Chloe muttered, looking around. "She probably skipped it out of shame. She knows she’s been replaced."
Just then, a sleek, unmarked black sedan pulled up to the curb. A driver stepped out, opening the rear door.
Every head on the cathedral steps turned.
Maya Sterling stepped out of the car. She didn't look like a discarded wife. She wore a simple, beautifully tailored black velvet coat with an antique silver brooch—the very brooch Eleanor had gifted her on her first anniversary. Her hair was swept up in a flawless chignon, her face calm, poised, and radiating an unshakeable dignity. Walking beside her, holding an umbrella over her head, was Arthur Pendelton, the senior partner of Pendelton, Legal & Trust.
Ethan’s jaw tightened. He stepped forward as Maya reached the top of the steps, his voice dropping to a low, commanding whisper. "Maya. You actually showed up. I assume you brought the signed folder with you? We can hand it to Arthur today and avoid a public spectacle."
Maya stopped, looking at Ethan, then letting her gaze drift slowly down to Chloe’s hand resting possessively on his arm. A small, faint smile—one of absolute pity—touched Maya’s lips.
"Today is about Eleanor, Ethan," Maya said, her voice clear enough for the surrounding executives to hear. "Try to show a shred of the respect your mother spent her entire life teaching you. If you can manage it."
"Don't talk to him like that," Chloe snapped, stepping forward, her face flushing. "He is the head of the Vance family now. You are nothing but an ex-wife who hasn't realized she’s been evicted."
Arthur Pendelton stepped into Chloe’s path, his eyes frosty behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "Miss... whatever your name is, I suggest you step back. You are a guest by sufferance in this house of worship. Do not tempt my patience today."
Ethan pulled Chloe back, his face darkening. "Arthur, you work for the Vance Trust. You work for me now. Watch your tone."
"We will discuss who I work for very shortly, Ethan," Arthur said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "The reading of the private estate will take place immediately after the interment, at the ancestral manor. I expect you, your guest, and Maya to be there."
May you like
As Maya walked past them into the grand, candlelit sanctuary, Ethan felt a sudden, inexplicable chill pass through his chest. He brushed it off, adjusting his cuffs. He was Ethan Vance. He had built a billion-dollar empire. His mother’s will was a mere formality—he was the only child, the sole heir to the Vance ancestral trust, the real estate portfolio, and the massive block of voting shares in his own tech conglomerate that Eleanor had held tightly until her final breath.
He thought he had already won.
