Chapter 3 - The Declaration
Julian didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a linen handkerchief, and gently wrapped it around Simone’s bleeding right hand, securing it with a firm, practiced twist that immediately eased the throbbing pain.
Then he looked directly at Matteo Vance.
“Effective at midnight,” Julian said, his voice completely level, “the Bellamy estate’s debt to the Marzano Holdings credit group has been paid in full.”
A sharp collective murmur ran through the room.
Matteo took a step back, his eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about? That debt is held by First National—"
“First National sold the note to my private subsidiary at four o'clock this afternoon,” Julian interrupted smoothly. “Which means I am your father-in-law’s sole primary creditor. And as sole creditor, I am dismissing the lien against his home, his medical care trust, and his personal accounts.”
Deline let out a choked sound, her hand clutching her pearls so hard the string looked ready to snap. “You... you can’t just do that!”
“I can,” Julian said. “I have.”
He stepped closer to Simone, extending his left arm. He didn't offer her his hand this time; he offered her his arm, allowing her to rest her uninjured hand securely on his dark wool sleeve.
“And to ensure there is no further misunderstanding regarding Miss Simone Bellamy’s status in this city,” Julian continued, looking back at Matteo with a cold, dead gaze, “she will not be answering any further questions regarding her family’s finances.”
Matteo sneered. “And why would she take orders from you?”
Julian’s mouth twitched into the faint ghost of a smile—a terrifying, predatory expression that didn't reach his hazel eyes.
“Because by this time next month,” Julian said, his words falling like heavy iron blocks onto the marble floor, “she will be my wife.”
The ballroom didn't just go silent; it felt as though the oxygen had been pulled out of the room entirely.
Simone’s hand jerked on Julian’s sleeve. She turned her head to look at him, her heart pounding frantically against her ribs. Wife? They had spoken exactly twice in their entire lives—once three years ago when she was researching historical land deeds at the city library, and once ten minutes ago when he checked the hotel’s security logs.
Julian didn't look down at her. He kept his gaze locked on Matteo and Deline, his jaw set in an absolute, unyielding line that made it impossible for anyone in the room to question his sincerity.
At the head of the table, Walter Bellamy’s hand slowly lifted from his wheelchair tray.
He didn't hit the tablet. He didn't hit the armrest.
He raised his thumb.
A single, clear gesture of approval from a father who had spent two years watching his youngest daughter be bled dry by the people who were supposed to love her.
Matteo’s face turned an ugly, mottled purple. “This is insane. You’re making a public declaration based on what? A stunt? You think the city council is going to let you marry into the Bellamy family without inspecting your corporate filings?”
“Let them inspect,” Julian said softly. “My filings are clean. Yours, however, Mr. Vance... are currently being delivered to the State Attorney’s Office by my chief legal counsel.”
He turned away from the table, taking a slow, measured step toward the ballroom exit, guiding Simone smoothly alongside him.
“Wait!” Deline screamed, taking two frantic steps forward, her white dress rustling loudly. “Simone! You can’t just leave! This is my wedding! You can’t leave me here like this!”
Simone stopped.
She didn't turn her whole body. She simply looked back over her shoulder at her sister—the sister who had spent twenty years taking her clothes, her books, her peace of mind, and finally her father’s care money.
Simone looked at the white gown, the broken glass on the floor, and the red stain where she had bled.
May you like
“Happy wedding, Deline,” Simone said quietly.
She didn't wait for a response. She turned back to Julian, matched his steady, heavy stride, and walked out of the grand ballroom as the first waves of shouting broke out behind them.
