Stunned silence hung heavy in the arbitration room.
Alaric's grip tightened on Sera's hand, his knuckles white. Thorne's last attack, painting Sera as a gold-digging opportunist, had landed a blow, but it was one they could fight. They had the truth on their side.
Sera's heart hammered, a frantic drum against her ribs. She met Alaric's gaze, finding a steady resolve there, a silent promise they would weather this storm.
Arbitrator Davies, his expression unreadable, had called for a short recess. The air crackled with residual tension, the weight of Thorne's accusations still palpable.
Walking towards them, Thorne paused, a smirk playing on his lips. "Enjoy your brief reprieve, Alaric. The show isn't over yet." His words were a venomous hiss, barely audible to anyone but them.
Suddenly, the doors swung open before Davies could even reconvene. Not the usual arbitration staff, but a frantic-looking junior associate from Thorne's legal team, clutching a thick, aged file.
"Mr. Thorne!" The young man's voice was breathless, panicked. "We just received this. It's…urgent."
Arbitrator Davies frowned, a deep crease forming between his brows. "This is highly irregular. We are not in session."
Thorne merely held up a hand, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph. "With all due respect, Arbitrator, this evidence is critical. It directly impacts the very foundation of Thorne Industries and the integrity of its current leadership. It cannot wait."
Alaric stepped forward, his voice low and dangerous. "What game are you playing, Thorne?"
Ignoring him, Thorne took the file. His gaze swept over the room, lingering on Sera and Alaric before settling on the Arbitrator. A theatrical pause.
"Gentlemen," Thorne began, his voice dropping to a somber, almost regretful tone that fooled no one. "My father, a visionary, built Thorne Industries from the ground up. But even great men can have… blind spots. Or perhaps, be manipulated."
A cold dread snaked its way up Sera's spine. This wasn't about her past anymore. This was bigger.
Thorne opened the file, revealing yellowed documents and brittle photographs. He extracted a single, faded photograph, holding it up for all to see. It showed a desolate tract of land, half-cleared, with crude wooden markers.
"This," Thorne announced, his voice booming, "is the original site where Thorne Industries' first major manufacturing plant was built. A site acquired under… dubious circumstances."
Alaric tensed, his body rigid. Sera could feel the tremor in his hand. They knew the history of that land – a pivotal acquisition from Alaric's father's early days.
"Decades ago," Thorne continued,