Chapter 6: What Bianca Did Next
The family cleared the dining room in stages — the older members first, then the younger ones, moving quietly with the careful speed of people who understood that the less they witnessed, the less they would be asked to account for later.
Within twenty minutes, the room held only six people: Alaric, Serena, Bastian, Bianca, Faye, and Marco.
The documents were still on the table.
Bastian had not spoken since Faye's announcement.
He sat with his arms crossed and his jaw set, staring at a point on the wall above Marco's head.
Bianca was the one who moved first.
She gathered the documents from the table — both of them, the paternity results and the sealed sleeve — and held them against her chest.
"I'll be keeping these," she said.
Alaric looked at her.
"Put them down, Bianca."
"These are medical records.
They belong to the family."
"They belong to the women whose names are on them." He held out his hand.
"Put them down."
Bianca didn't move.
Serena stood up.
She was still moving carefully, one hand at her side, but her voice was steady.
"Those results have my name on them.
Give them back."
"You are not in a position—"
"I am in every position." Serena walked to the end of the table and stopped directly in front of Bianca.
She was younger by thirty years and half a foot shorter, and she stood there without flinching.
"Give them back.
Now."
Bianca looked at her son.
Bastian said nothing.
She looked at Alaric.
Alaric said nothing.
She set the documents on the table.
Serena picked them up, checked both pages, and handed them to Alaric without looking away from Bianca.
"Thank you," Alaric said.
Bianca turned to Marco.
Her voice dropped to something that was almost pleasant, which made it worse.
"Mr.
Voss.
You've been a valued associate of this family for many years.
I think we can agree that what happened tonight was — unfortunate.
And that there are ways to resolve this that don't require courts or lawyers or public record."
Marco looked at her steadily.
"What kind of ways?"
"Generous ways." She said it simply.
"You walk away.
The child is raised as a Vane.
No one outside this room ever knows the difference.
And in return, your contract with the family is renewed at twice the current rate."
The room was very quiet.
Faye said, "You're trying to buy my child."
"I'm trying to protect this family."
"From what?
From the truth?"
"From the consequences of other people's mistakes." Bianca's voice stayed smooth.
"Including yours, Faye.
You were not a faithful wife either."
Faye didn't flinch.
"I was separated from Bastian for four months before Marco and I—"
"You were still married."
"Barely."
"Legally." Bianca let the word sit.
"And in this family, legally is what matters."
Marco stepped forward.
"I'm not walking away."
Bianca turned to him.
"Excuse me?"
"I said I'm not walking away." He said it the same way the first time — no heat, no performance.
Just a fact being stated.
"I don't want your money.
I don't want a contract.
I want to know my child."
"You have no legal standing—"
"Not yet."
The two words landed like a door being locked from the inside.
Bianca looked at Alaric.
"Are you going to allow this?"
"Yes."
"Alaric—"
"I said yes, Bianca." He looked at her with something that had moved past patience a long time ago.
"I have watched this family use money to make problems disappear for thirty years.
I watched it happen to Serena.
I watched it happen to Faye.
I am not watching it happen to a child who hasn't been born yet."
Bianca's expression shifted.
Not softened — shifted.
Recalculated.
"You'll regret this," she said.
"I already regret a great deal," Alaric said.
"Most of it involves things I didn't stop soon enough."
Bastian stood up.
His chair scraped back hard.
"This isn't over," he said.
He looked at Marco.
"You think you can walk into this house and take my family—"
"I didn't take anything," Marco said.
"You left it unattended."
Bastian moved.
He crossed the room in three steps and his fist connected with Marco's jaw before anyone could get between them.
Marco's head snapped sideways.
He caught himself on the edge of the table and stayed upright.
He didn't swing back.
He straightened.
Touched his jaw.
Looked at Bastian.
"Feel better?" he said.
Bastian raised his fist again.
Alaric's voice came out like a crack of wood splitting.
"Bastian.
Enough."
Bastian stopped.
Two of the household staff appeared in the doorway — they had clearly been close, waiting.
Alaric looked at them.
"Please escort my son to the east wing.
He'll be staying there tonight."
Bastian looked at his father.
For a moment something young and desperate moved across his face — something that might have been the beginning of an apology or a plea.
Then Bianca touched his arm, and it was gone.
He let the staff walk him out.
The door closed.
Bianca picked up her bag from the chair.
She looked at Alaric one last time.
"You've chosen them over your own son," she said.
"I've chosen the truth," Alaric said.
"For the first time in a long time."
Bianca left without another word.
In the silence that followed, Faye sat down slowly in the nearest chair.
Marco stayed where he was.
Serena looked at Alaric.
The documents were still in his hand.
He set them gently on the table in front of Faye.
"What do you need?" he said.
Faye looked down at the papers.
At her name, printed clearly in the results column.
"I need tonight to be over," she said.
"It nearly is."
She looked up at him.
"And tomorrow?"
May you like
Alaric pulled out the chair beside her and sat down.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we start fixing it."
