The Legacy We Burn

Chapter 3

"Ms. Beaumont, how exactly do you plan to ensure profitable in the first quarter post-merger." The voice came from a man halfway down the long oak table, his cufflinks glinting sharper than his eyes.

I clasped my hands firmly on the table. " The numbers speak for themselves," I replied evenly, projecting confidence into the cavernous room. "Montrose District is not just about revitalization– it's the city's future. The design incorporates residential, commercial, and cultural anchors, each sector reinforcing the other. Investors won't simply see returns, they'll see dominance." A murmur of approval swept through the room, pens scratching against notepads. The Montclair conference room was a theatre of glass and steel, the city sprawling beneath its windows. The long table gleamed over the recessed lights. Investors filled the leather seats, their voices clipped and precise, their pens poised as if ready to draw blood.

The morning had been too quiet. I woke before dawn, staring at my bedroom ceiling. My mind had been awake long before my body decided to join it. Montrose. The word lingered in the air. Catherine had come bustling in, already dressed, in a loose buttoned silk shirt and high-waist skirt with kitten heels that clicked quietly as she moved around with her clipped instructions in hand. She raided my wardrobe plucking out outfit options before I even sat up. "No black," she said, "We're not attending a funeral. Power, Scarlet— power has a palette. Burgundy. Emerald. Navy. Choose one." I chose a sleek, crew neckline, navy blue dress, beautifully embroidered, cinched at the waist with a sharp A-line cut, its side adorned with little golden buttons and a single flap pocket. It was elegant. No–POWERFUL. The rest blurred into routine–coffee left untouched, a plate of fruit I only picked at. My father's voice echoed at the back of my head, though he hadn't spoken to me that morning, not directly. His words from the night before lingered instead, "Don't falter, Scarlet. If you show even the slightest doubt, they'll smell it." I dressed slowly, deliberately. pearl stud. Hair swept into a sleek knot. Catherine was happy to do my makeup, adjusting a fitting here, smoothing a wrinkle there, reminding me to breathe. And then the long drive. The city blurred outside the tinted glass of the car. I practiced answers in my head, rehearsed the exact tilt of my chin and cadence of authority, until the Montclair tower came into view. it's glass and steel stabbing into the morning sky.

I sat at the head of the table, posture perfect, my expression schooled into calm command. Catherine stood behind me, my coat in her arm, holding up a notepad and pen. Beside me, Sebastian leaned back in his swivel chair, deceptively relaxed, spinning slightly from time to time. He was letting me take all the heat! I caught his eyes at the corner of my vision, a storm brewing in them. " Montrose is ambitious, yes, but the market is volatile, what guarantees do you offer against collapse? " a silver head investor asked. I met his gaze unflinching, "Diversification. Three revenue streams feeding one another–one falters, the other sustains. Montrose is not built on vanity. it's built on necessity. The city is expanding faster than its infrastructure can sustain. We're not chasing grandeur, we're filling a void.This isn't ambition for it's own stake, it's inevitability." A ripple moved across the room, heads nodded. Another voice rose, deliberate and skeptical. "Ambition and diversification aside, what about security? Political backlash. Criminal threats. The Beaumonts have a reputation for influence and political power in the government, yes, and the Montclairs control most of the city's finance, but influence doesn't ensure protection. Do you really think your families' name is enough to protect a project of this scale?" I felt the heat of the question, the weight of the gazes fixed on me. All the questions were directed at me. Sebastian was almost invisible in the room. I leaned in, voice steady, "Protection doesn't come from a name, it comes from infrastructure, strategy and resolve. The Beaumonts have spent decades negotiating power where others only chased it. Montrose is not a gamble– it's a fortress in the making. And once it's completed, no one will dare test its wall." Silence followed. Tight. Expectant. I had landed a clean blow. Just as I was about to conclude, a woman, not less than sixty, with a smooth-silvery voice sat up to speak, "Ms. Beaumont, I have to ask, with the rumours and speculations going around about your family, do you think you can convince the people of this city to trust your leadership." I paused, measuring my breath. The question wasn't unexpected, but every word in my head felt like tinder.

And as if waiting for a perfect time to chim in, Sebastian cleared his throat, " The Montrose District will cost 8.6 billion in the first phase, " he leaned forward, catching the gaze of everyone in the room. "The Montclairs are providing a significant amount of capital, the Beaumont are contributing historical land assets. The district will cover fifty-seven acres of prime city real estate, uniting luxury residences, global banking headquarters, and cultural land marks into one ecosystem. This is the future of commerce and living in this city.", his voice was measured and smooth. "I can guarantee that this project is in the right hands. Scarlet brings a unique perspective–fashion, culture, lifestyle– things the Beaumonts have always excelled at," he said glancing sideways at me, his lips curving into a smile that was too professional to mean anything, "so you doesn't have to worry. Neither does the city. She has me. I'll focus on the infrastructure, finance and scale. The backbone of this project. She'll handle other things. Together we'll cover every angle." They all seemed pleased and convinced.

I straightened in my chair, keeping my face smooth. This was his game! How do I respond to that? He had completely thrown me off course. My throat tightened with rage as I struggled to maintain my composure.

The meeting ended not long after. Sebastian returned to his office. I calmly shook hands with the members of the board and secured investors before leaving the room. Catherine followed me from behind, "Scarlet, about your office, it's ready, I have everything set up, there's only one problem..." I ignored her, my mind set on Sebastian. "What was that?" I demanded, storming into his office. He didn't flinch. He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, like he'd been waiting for me. "What was what?" "That s**t you pulled in there! What are you trying to do?" I snapped. He tilted his head, a faint smile playing at his lips, "For all I know, you should be thanking me", he said. "Thanking you? I was holding the room just fine before you decided to finally speak!" I retorted. "We're you?" His voice was soft, amused even. "Because from where I sat, you froze. A bit too long, Scarlet. And that's all it takes to lose everything. You know this better than anyone." I stepped closer, anger flaming up in my eyes, "What do you mean you're taking on the 'backbone of the project'? Who made you in charge of that? You don't get to decide what I do!", "I didn't", he said, slowly uncrossing his arms, straightening, stepping closer, "The room already did." His eyes darkened. "They needed to hear a voice they could trust, Scarlet. Nothing you were gonna say would have done that. This project is important. Their support is important. They weren't gonna give it to you." His voice cold and sharp." I moved even closer, leaving no space between us, my voice calm. "Now I don't know what's in it for you, Montclair, but let me get one thing straight, I am not your pawn. You weren't trying to play savior, you knew exactly what you were doing. I am a woman, and I'm the Beaumont heir. You have no idea how disappointing that is to people. And so I am very used to being underestimated– whether it's by you, or the people in that room. And anytime you do that, you're handing me the perfect opportunity to do prove you wrong," I said, my voice beginning to rise as anger crept up in my it. His smirk faltered for the first time."Oh Sebastian, I am a woman who has worked with shitty, disgusting, and hateful men! You can't possibly imagine how much I can bear and take in, but don't you ever dare in your life try to disrespect me like that! Do you understand?" Silence stretched. His jaw tightened as he held his composure. My eyes and throat burned as I held his gaze.

"Okay", he answered, his jaw loosened, before returning to his desk to sit on his chair. "The next board meeting is Friday, they'll want to hear our proposals, and luckily it's also a press conference. We can agree on something before then to get things straight." He said, then got to work with the computer in front of him. I stood there for just another second before turning around to face Catherine. "Show me to my office, Cat", I said, heading for the door. "That's what I've been trying to tell you, Scar," she said, stopping me in my tracks, "The tower is new and still under construction and the staffs have doubled because of this project. There are still so many offices around the building that are under construction..." "So what are you trying to tell me?", I cut her off, "This is your office." I looked at her, then took a good look at the capacious and immaculately designed office. it's floor-to-ceiling windows bled daylight into the room, it's polished floors, and ceiling lights. At one end, a sleek obsidian black desk carved from marble and steel–Sebastian's side. His style showed in precision– no clutter, only sharp lines, careful stacked files, his laptop, and a crystal tumbler than looked better suited for whisky than water. Behind him, shelves Montclair signature– law tomes, framed deals, books, and photographs of handshakes that built empires. Across the room, my side was warmer, but no less commanding. My desk was a brushed oak surface with gold inlays. A vase of fresh white orchids softened the edge caused by the gold and ivory pallete of the display. Behind the desk was a shelf stacked with books, magazines, and award plaques. And behind that, a wall-sized portrait of one of my family's fashion houses. The distinction between our two worlds were clear, but they oddly fitted in.

Though the room was generously large for the both of us, it felt like the walls were closing in. I was meant to share an office with him. The air in the room felt so heavy already from my confrontation that the thought of spending one more minute in his sight could drive me insane. "It's only for the mean time. Something new can be fixed up by next week." She said while handing me my bag and coat. I took in a deep breath then headed to sit on my desk before letting it out, trying not to look straight up at Sebastian's side. "It's fine. I can manage," I said as she rested her hand on my shoulder, "Alright, I'll go run some errands now. If you need me just call." she said as she glanced at Sebastian, then bent to whisper to me.before leaving, "Please don't tear his throat out". The room was quiet now. I brought my laptop in front of me and got to work. I could feel his eyes on me.