THE HIDDEN HEIR'S VENGEANCE

CHAPTER 6 : VIVIANE'S ANALYSIS

“The hospital called me this afternoon,” Viviane finally broke the silence. Her voice was low, trembling between anger and confusion. “They said you were dying. They asked for my consent for emergency brain surgery.”

Matthew walked to the minibar and poured himself a glass of mineral water. He did not look at his wife. “Doctors in New York love to dramatize things for insurance claims, don’t they?”

“Don’t joke with me, Matthew!” Viviane stood and slammed her crystal glass onto the table. “My mother called me in hysterics. She said you spent three hundred and fifty thousand dollars on Fifth Avenue!” Viviane snapped as she stepped closer, her eyes locked onto his.

“Where did that money come from, Matt? Did you steal it? Borrow from loan sharks in the Bronx? Or did you…” Viviane took a sharp breath. “Did you sell company data to a competitor?”

Matthew turned slowly, took a calm sip of water, then set the glass on the bar. “Is that really how low your opinion of me is, Vie?” Matthew asked softly.

“Give me a reason to think otherwise!” Viviane shot back, pointing at the bags on the floor. “Your accounts were frozen, Matt. Your consultant salary was cut last month. And then you show up like a deranged millionaire after a near-fatal accident? Explain to me what kind of logic makes any of this make sense.”

“Analysis,” Matthew replied shortly.

“What?”

“Market analysis, opportunity, luck. Call it whatever you want,” Matthew answered casually, shrugging. “I saw a gap in the crypto market when I woke up in the hospital. I took it, and this is the result.”

“Bullshit,” Viviane hissed. She grabbed the collar of Matthew’s dirty suit and pulled him closer. The scent of dried blood mixed with expensive perfume in the air. “You are not some stock market prodigy, Matt. You are the man who couldn’t even convince the board about my father’s legacy project this morning. You are the man who…”

Viviane’s words suddenly cut off, hanging in the air. Matthew’s hand moved fast, catching her wrist that was clutching his collar. His grip was strong, but not painful. There was absolute dominance in his touch.

“The man who what, darling?” Matthew cut in, his voice dropping. “The weak man? The obedient man? The man who let your mother humiliate him just to protect the feelings of a wife who never once defended her own husband?”

Viviane froze. Her eyes glistened as she tried to pull her hand free, but Matthew held it for a moment before releasing it with a controlled motion.

“I’m done being that man, Viviane,” Matthew said coldly as he straightened his collar. “That accident killed the old Matthew. Think of it that way.”

Viviane stepped back, clutching her wrist as she stared at him like a stranger. Fear flickered in her eyes, but beneath it was something else. Curiosity.

For five years of marriage, Matthew had always been a shadow. Quiet, patient, resigned. But tonight, the man standing before her felt dangerous, and somehow, Viviane could not look away.

“And these things?” Viviane pointed at the pile of bags on the floor with her chin. “My mother said you bought them for me. As an apology.”

“Take them if you want,” Matthew replied indifferently as he walked toward the stairs. “Or burn them. I bought them just to see your mother’s face turn pale, and it was worth every cent.”

Viviane gaped. “You threw away $350,000 just to get back at my mother?”

“First lesson in business, Viviane. Pride is expensive,” Matthew said without emotion, then stopped at the first step. “By the way, what’s the status of Project Monolith?”

Viviane let out a long breath and rubbed her throbbing temples. The sudden shift in topic made her dizzy, but her business instincts took over.

“Dead,” Viviane answered wearily. She sat back down on the sofa, her shoulders slumping. “After what happened this morning, the board froze the funding. Reginald Holt moved fast. He lobbied our main creditor bank to hold the loan, and worst of all…”

Viviane looked at Matthew with despair in her eyes. “The prime land in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. The key location for Monolith. It goes up for auction tomorrow morning because of a tax dispute with the previous owner. We don’t have the liquidity to bid on it. Reginald will definitely buy it. If he controls that land, Lane Corp is finished. Monolith will be nothing more than a stack of paper.”

Suddenly, the holographic panel reappeared across Matthew’s retinas, delivering the information he needed.

[SYSTEM ARC DETECTED : GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY.]

[INCOMING DATA : BROOKLYN LAND AUCTION, SECTOR 4.]

[ANALYSIS : KEY TO DOMINATING EAST COAST LOGISTICS ROUTES.]

[CURRENT FINANCIAL STATUS : INSUFFICIENT. ALTERNATIVE STRATEGY REQUIRED.]

Matthew turned fully around. His gaze sharpened. “What time is the auction?” he asked.

“Nine a.m. At Christie’s Auction House,” Viviane replied dully. “But it’s pointless. I’ll only attend as a formality. We need at least twenty million dollars in cash for the deposit and guarantees. We don’t have that kind of liquidity in less than twelve hours.”

“I’m coming,” Matthew said firmly.

Viviane let out a hollow laugh. “You? For what? To cause another scene? To punch Reginald? Matt, please… You’re not stable. Rest. I’ll bear the humiliation tomorrow.”

“You won’t be humiliated, and we won’t lose,” Matthew said as he stepped down from the stairs and approached Viviane on the sofa.

“Listen,” Viviane snapped, her voice rising. “I don’t know what game you’re playing with that three hundred and fifty thousand dollars, but this land auction is a different level. This is the big leagues, Matt. Where Wall Street sharks tear each other apart. You don’t belong there.”

“I know you don’t trust me,” Matthew replied, locking eyes with her. “So let’s make a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Tomorrow morning, before the stock market opens,” Matthew said, his eyes glinting with blue streams of data only he could see.

[ACCESSING GLOBAL MARKET PREDICTIONS : ENERGY SECTOR.]

“Watch PetroX Energy. It’s currently stable at forty-five dollars a share.”

Viviane frowned. “What does that have to do with…”

“At exactly 8:45 a.m. tomorrow, fifteen minutes before the auction begins, an oil pipeline in the North Sea will be reported leaking. PetroX stock will plunge twelve percent within the first ten minutes of premarket trading.”

Viviane stared at her husband as if he had lost his mind. “You can predict the future now? Or are you the one sabotaging the pipeline?”

“Let’s just say I have access to information faster than a Bloomberg Terminal,” Matthew said with a faint, confident smile. “If I’m wrong, I’ll sign the divorce papers and leave this house with nothing. But if I’m right…”

Matthew leaned forward slightly, his face level with Viviane’s stunned gaze. “You will take me to that auction. You will give me the seat beside you, and you will let me raise the bidding paddle when that Brooklyn land comes up.”

Viviane’s heart pounded. The request was insane, and the prediction was far too specific to be a random guess. Yet there was not a trace of doubt in Matthew’s voice.

“Why are you doing this, Matt?” Viviane whispered. “Why do you care so much about Monolith when we treated you like trash?”

Matthew straightened and looked at the portrait of Dominic Lane hanging above the fireplace. “Because I made a promise to your father,” Matthew said quietly, “and because I want to see Reginald Holt’s face when he realizes he just lost to a dead man.”

Matthew turned and walked up the stairs toward the guest room, leaving Viviane alone in the vast living room.