Chapter 3 - The Queen Reclaims Her Throne
At six o’clock the following morning, the sun rose over Chicago behind a thick veil of gray fog.
The gate buzzer at the entrance of the Alden estate rang three times.
Corvin Alden stepped out of his sleek black sedan, buttoning his jacket against the autumn chill. He expected to find his brother Theo waiting in the driveway, looking sheepish and beaten.
Instead, when the heavy iron gates swung open, Corvin saw two heavy security guards standing beside a golf cart. Neither man smiled.
“Mr. Corvin,” the lead guard said formally. “Mrs. Alden requested that you leave your vehicle at the gate and walk to the glass pavilion.”
Corvin’s brow furrowed. “Mrs. Alden? You mean Marina?”
“Yes, sir.”
Corvin swallowed his irritation, smoothed his silk tie, and strode up the cobblestone path toward the glass pavilion overlooking the eastern garden.
When he stepped inside, Marina was already sitting at the head of a long marble conference table. She wore a sharp, tailored ivory suit, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek, flawless knot. She looked like a monarch receiving an ambassador. On the table before her sat a thick black leather binder and two steaming cups of espresso.
Theo was nowhere to be seen.
“Marina,” Corvin said, putting on a smooth, charming smile as he walked toward her. “Look, about last night... I know things looked terrible on television, but you have to understand the business context. Theo was under immense pressure from the board—”
“Sit down, Corvin,” Marina said smoothly, gesturing to the chair across from her.
Corvin paused, caught off guard by her absolute composure. He sat down slowly. “Marina, listen to me. This Vance contract is the biggest play the family has made in two decades. If Victoria Vance feels snubbed now because of a domestic dispute—”
“Do you know why my father gave his blessing when Theo asked to marry me eleven years ago?” Marina interrupted, taking a delicate sip of her espresso.
Corvin blinked. “Your father was a doctor.”
“My father was Gabriel DeLuca,” Marina corrected softly, her gray eyes locking onto Corvin’s. “He was the chief surgeon for the Midwest syndicate for thirty years. Every Don, every politician, and every broker who was shot or stabbed in this city ended up on his operating table. They survived because Gabriel DeLuca kept their secrets.”
Corvin’s smile faltered.
“When my father died,” Marina continued, sliding the black binder across the polished marble, “he didn't leave me money. He left me his ledgers. Every offshore account, every hidden land title, every wire-transfer record connecting the Alden family’s legitimate transport fleet to the Atlantic port facilities is registered under the DeLuca Family Trust.”
Corvin opened the binder. As his eyes scanned the first three pages, the color drained completely from his face.
The documents laid out the entire corporate architecture of Alden Logistics. The deeds to the three largest automated distribution hubs in Illinois—the very hubs Theo was trying to leverage for the Vance deal—were held exclusively in Marina DeLuca Alden’s maiden name.
“You thought I was just a quiet nurse who stayed home, made dinner, and looked the other way while you and Theo played mob bosses,” Marina said, leaning back in her chair. “You thought you could cover up his infidelity, lie to my face, and treat me like collateral damage.”
“Marina...” Corvin stammered, his fingers trembling as he turned a page. “This... this means you own the port access rights.”
“I own everything, Corvin,” she said calmly. “Including the contract Theo signed with Richard Vance last night. And as of seven o’clock this morning, I have issued a legal stay on all asset transfers to Vance Enterprises.”
Corvin slammed his hands on the table, standing up frantically. “Are you insane?! Richard Vance will destroy us! If we pull out of the merger now, Vance will revoke our shipping licenses by Friday!”
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Marina stood up as well. Though she was several inches shorter than Corvin, her aura was suffocating.
“Then you better tell your brother to put on his suit, clean the lipstick off his neck, and meet me in my office at nine,” Marina said coldly. “Because if Richard Vance wants a war with the Alden family, he is going to have to go through the queen first.”
