Chapter 14 I Will Not Be Your Daughter, But I Want to See You Kneel

# Chapter 14: I Will Not Be Your Daughter, But I Want to See You Kneel

Three days passed in the peaceful isolation of Villa Moor. I spent them reconnecting with Valencia, learning the truth of my origins, and planning my next move. The DNA samples had been collected and sent to a lab in Switzerland—one with no connections to Monette Enterprises. We would have answers soon, though I was beginning to understand that blood was perhaps the least important bond in this twisted family saga.

On the morning of the fourth day, as Valencia and I shared breakfast on the terrace, Maria brought in a sleek envelope bearing the Monette corporate seal.

"It arrived by courier," she explained, setting it before me.

Inside was a formal invitation to a special session of the Monette Holdings board of directors, scheduled for the following week in New York. The agenda listed only one item: "Succession Planning and Corporate Restructuring." At the bottom, in Callum's distinctive handwriting: "Your presence is not optional. The future of everything we've built depends on it."

Valencia recognized the hardening of my expression. "He's making his move."

"Yes." I folded the invitation carefully. "He's forcing my hand."

"You don't have to go," she said, reaching across the table for my hand. "You could stay here, with me. We could be a family, away from his machinations."

The offer was tempting—a quiet life in this beautiful place, with the mother I'd just found, far from the Monette drama. But as I looked out over the Tuscan landscape, I knew it wasn't my path.

"I can't run," I said finally. "Not from him, not from what I've built." I met her eyes. "You ran for thirty years, and what did it get you? A beautiful prison, a fractured mind, and decades of separation from your child."

Her face fell. "I was trying to protect you."

"I know," I said gently. "But I need to face this—face him—on my terms."

That afternoon, I boarded a flight to New York, leaving Valencia with promises to return soon, to bring her home properly when the time was right. As the plane lifted off, I felt a strange sense of destiny unfolding—as if everything in my life had been leading to this confrontation.

New York greeted me with a slate-gray sky and persistent drizzle. My driver took me directly to the Monette Tower, that gleaming monument to wealth and power that dominated the Manhattan skyline. The board meeting wasn't scheduled until the following day, but I knew exactly where to find Callum.

The executive floor was quiet as I stepped off the private elevator. His assistant's desk was empty—unusual for a weekday afternoon. I moved through the outer office toward the imposing double doors of the CEO suite, not bothering to knock before entering.

Callum stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, silhouetted against the stormy sky, a glass of whiskey in hand. He didn't turn as I entered, though I knew he'd registered my presence.

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"You're early," he said, his voice carrying across the vast office. "I expected you tomorrow."

"I thought we should have a private conversation before you attempt whatever power play you've orchestrated for the board."

He turned then, his eyes traveling over me with that familiar intensity that still, despite everything, sent a shiver down my spine. "You look different. Italy changed you."

"The truth changed me," I corrected, moving further into the room. "Knowing who I am—and who I'm not."

"And who are you, Clarette?" He set down his glass, closing the distance between us with measured steps. "A Monette? A Vervain? Does it matter?"

"It matters that you lied." I held my ground as he approached. "That you manipulated my entire life based on a fantasy—your obsession with a woman who rejected you decades ago."

His laugh was soft, dangerous. "Is that what Vivienne told you? That my interest in you stems from some pathetic fixation on your mother?"

"Isn't it true?"

"Partially," he admitted, stopping just inches from me. "Your resemblance to Elaine was... striking. It caught my attention initially. But it was you, Clarette—your mind, your ambition, your ruthlessness barely concealed beneath that polished exterior—that fascinated me."

"Enough to make me believe I was a Monette by blood? To orchestrate my marriage to your son?"

"I didn't orchestrate your meeting Gideon," he countered. "That was genuine coincidence. But when it happened, I recognized the opportunity it presented."

"An opportunity to bring me into the family, to control me."

His eyes darkened. "To elevate you to where you belong."

I shook my head, stepping away from his magnetic pull. "You don't get to decide where I belong."

"Don't I?" He moved to his desk, pressing a button on his phone. "Send them in."

The doors opened, and a group of people entered—the Monette Holdings legal team, followed by Gideon, looking uncomfortable in a suit that seemed too tight around the collar, and finally, to my shock, Odessa, her pregnancy now visibly advanced.

"What is this?" I demanded.

"The future," Callum replied simply, gesturing everyone to the conference table that occupied one end of the vast office. "Please, sit."

I remained standing as the others took their seats, my eyes fixed on Callum. "I won't be part of whatever game you're playing."

"This isn't a game, Clarette." For the first time, I heard genuine weariness in his voice. "It's an attempt to resolve a situation that threatens everything we've built."

The lead attorney, a silver-haired woman with sharp eyes, opened a folder. "Mrs. Monette, we've prepared a comprehensive agreement that addresses all aspects of the current... complications."

"I'm not signing anything," I stated flatly.

"At least hear the terms," Callum suggested, his tone reasonable. "You might find them more favorable than expected."

The attorney continued as if I hadn't spoken. "The agreement recognizes you as a legal member of the Monette family, with all rights and privileges thereof, including a fifteen percent ownership stake in Monette Holdings."

I blinked in surprise. Fifteen percent was significant—more than I'd held through my marriage to Gideon.

"Additionally," she continued, "it establishes a trust for your unborn child, guaranteeing their position as a primary heir to the Monette fortune, regardless of paternity."

My hand moved instinctively to my stomach. "And what do you want in exchange for this generosity?"

"Your public support for a restructuring of corporate leadership," Callum answered. "Effective immediately, I would step down as CEO, taking the position of Chairman. You would be named co-CEO alongside Gideon."

I couldn't hide my shock. "Co-CEO? That's... unexpected."

"It's insane," Gideon interjected, speaking for the first time. "She has no right to—"

"She has every right," Callum cut him off sharply. "By marriage, by merit, and by my decree."

I studied Gideon's face—the resentment, the confusion, the hurt. Whatever Callum had told him to secure his presence at this meeting, it clearly hadn't included the full truth.

"Why would you do this?" I asked Callum. "Give up control you've fought decades to maintain?"

"Because I'm dying," he replied simply.

The room fell silent. I stared at him, searching for signs of deception and finding none. "What?"

"Pancreatic cancer. Stage four." He spoke matter-of-factly, as if discussing a minor business setback. "Six months, perhaps a year with aggressive treatment."

I sank into a chair, the revelation hitting me with unexpected force. "How long have you known?"

"Three months. The prognosis was confirmed the week before your wedding." A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Ironic timing."

My mind raced, reassessing every interaction we'd had since then through this new lens. His increased urgency, his fixation on legacy, his determination to secure my place in the Monette hierarchy—it all made a terrible kind of sense now.

"So this isn't about love or obsession," I said slowly. "It's about succession planning."

"It's about both," he countered, moving to stand behind my chair. His hands came to rest lightly on my shoulders, his touch sending unwanted heat through my body despite everything. "I want you to have what's rightfully yours, Clarette. Whether you're a Monette by blood or not, you've earned your place in this family, in this company."

I looked around the table—at Gideon's barely contained fury, at Odessa's quiet watchfulness, at the attorneys waiting with their papers and pens. Then I stood, shrugging off Callum's hands.

"I want everyone out," I said firmly. "Everyone except Callum."

After a moment's hesitation and a nod from Callum, they filed out, Gideon throwing a last venomous glance over his shoulder before the doors closed.

When we were alone, I turned to face the man who had manipulated, desired, and perhaps in his own twisted way, loved me.

"I will accept your offer," I said, watching his expression carefully. "But with one condition."

"Name it."

"I want you to kneel," I said softly. "Right here, right now. I want you to kneel and admit that everything—every lie, every manipulation, every seduction—was because you needed me more than I ever needed you."

For a long moment, he simply looked at me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, deliberately, Callum Monette lowered himself to one knee before me.

"Everything I've done," he said, his voice steady despite his subservient position, "has been because from the moment I met you, I recognized that you are what I could never be—the perfect synthesis of brilliance and control. I needed you to complete what I started. I still do."

I reached down, cupping his face in my hands. "Then from now on, you follow my lead. My company. My rules."

His eyes never left mine as he responded, "As you wish."

And in that moment, with Callum Monette on his knees before me, I felt a shift in the universe—power changing hands, destiny realigning itself. Whether I was a Monette by blood no longer mattered.

I had become something more powerful: a Monette by choice.