Chapter 3 - The Cold War of Park Avenue
The silence on the line lasted for five long seconds.
When Eleanor spoke again, the polite, polished tone had vanished, replaced by the icy, calculating edge that had terrified corporate executives for thirty years.
“So,” Eleanor said softly. “The art teacher finally played her final card.”
Carolina flinched, but I reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly.
“She didn't play any card, Mother,” I said, my voice dropping into a dangerous, low register. “I found out on my own. And I found the letter you intercepted eight months ago.”
“Silas, don't be naive,” Eleanor scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain. “That girl was looking for a permanent payout from the moment you brought her to the Hamptons. She knew your father’s trust matured this year. She timed that pregnancy to ensure she would secure a piece of the Lockwood estate before the ink on your divorce papers was dry.”
“She didn't take a single dime of the settlement because you threatened her family!” I yelled, unable to keep the rage from exploding through my chest. “You lied to her! You lied to me! You stole the first fifteen days of my son’s life!”
“I saved your career!” Eleanor snapped back, her voice cutting like a razor. “Look at you! You were ready to throw away a ten-billion-dollar merger with the Takahashi Group because you were distracted by a middle-class girl who wanted to live in a fantasy world! You are a Lockwood, Silas! Your father built this firm, and I preserved it! I will not let a low-level schoolteacher dismantle this family’s legacy with an illegitimate child!”
“He isn't illegitimate,” I said, every word dripping with lethal intent. “He is my son. Gabriel Hayes Lockwood.”
“He will never carry that name,” Eleanor declared coldly. “If you pursue this, Silas—if you bring that girl and her baby back into your life—the board will initiate an emergency removal clause tomorrow morning. You will be stripped of your CEO title, your equity will be frozen under the morality covenant, and I will personally see to it that no financial firm in North America hires you again.”
Carolina tugged at my sleeve, her eyes filled with panic, shaking her head as if telling me to back down.
I looked at Carolina. I looked at the small bassinet where my son was sleeping peacefully under a pale blue blanket.
Then I looked at the phone.
“Do it,” I said softly.
“What?” Eleanor asked, taken aback.
“Initiate the removal clause, Mother,” I said, a slow, dark smile spreading across my face. “Freeze my equity. Take the office. Take the title. Take the penthouse on Park Avenue.”
“Silas, don't you dare bluff with me—”
“I’m not bluffing,” I interrupted. “Because while you were busy managing my personal life, you forgot one small detail. I hold the primary patents for the automated trading algorithms that generate eighty percent of Lockwood Financial’s revenue. If I leave, the Takahashi Group walks away in forty-eight hours.”
Silence descended on the line again, heavier this time.
“You wouldn't ruin your own legacy,” Eleanor whispered, a faint tremor finally appearing in her voice.
“You ruined my family,” I replied coldly. “A corporate legacy is nothing compared to that. Do not call my phone again. If you step within one hundred feet of Carolina or Gabriel, I won't just leave the firm, Mother. I will destroy it.”
I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the sofa.
Carolina was staring at me as if she had never seen me before. The man who used to skip anniversary dinners for board meetings had just burned down a multi-billion-dollar corporate kingdom in thirty seconds.
“Silas...” she breathed, her voice shaking. “Your life’s work...”
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I walked over to her, taking both of her hands in mine, raising them to my lips.
“My life’s work was sleeping in that bassinet while I was sitting in a empty penthouse,” I said softly. “I spent eight months thinking I lost you because I wasn't enough for you. I’m not losing you again.”
