After Hours Penetration

Chapter 7

The Voss family chateau sprawled across the vine clad hills of the Île-de-France which is a bastion of limestone grandeur just beyond Paris's glittering periphery. As the chauffeured Bentley glided through the wrought iron gates, the estate's facade glowed under the soft lights of lanterns which casts long shadows over the gravel drive.

It was early evening, the air crisp with the scent of blooming jasmine and distant rain and the intimate family supper which is meant to be a quick meeting before driving to the night's main event. The Vosstech's lavish company party in the heart of the city.

Eleanor adjusted the emerald silk of her gown in the rearview mirror, the fabric shimmering like the Seine at dusk. Julian's hand rested on her knee as the car pulled up to the entrance. "Smile, darling," he murmured. "Mother's quite angry today."

Inside, the atmosphere was of splendor with flickering beeswax candles on the mantel, crystal decanters of Cognac on silver trays and the faint strains of a string quartet drifting from an adjoining hall.

Victor Voss seated in his wheelchair, commanded the head of the long dining table, his hair catching the firelight and his posture as unyielding as the ancient oaks lining the drive.

Vivian Voss, his wife sits besides him. She is dressed in a black silk gown as she swirls a glass of chilled Chablis, her diamond earrings swaying like pendulums of judgment. She was the family's iron fist in a velvet glove, her barbs as precise as a French paring knife.

"Eleanor, ma chère," Vivian greeted as they entered, bestowing cool air kisses that barely grazed her cheeks. She pulled back, her gaze raking over Eleanor's figure with clinical disdain. "That gown is exquisite, brand is Dior, I presume? It clings so beautifully, though one might hope for room to breathe... for life's little miracles."

Eleanor offered a tight smile, the knot of anticipation twisting tighter in her gut. "Thank you, Ma'am. It's custom from a Marais boutique. We won't be long before we leave, a party's waiting."

She cast a hopeful glance at Julian, but he was already shrugging off his coat and handing it to a maid.

Victor waved them to their seats amid the Wedgwood china and silver flatware. "Sit. We have heard the office whispers about that audit mess. Julian, bold moves, but Paris doesn't forgive sloppiness", victor warns Julian. The supper unfolded with the precision of a state dinner. Vivian's eyes which is as sharp as a Louvre scalpel kept drifting to Eleanor's untouched plate.

As the dessert, which includes crème brûlée in porcelain bowls was served and Vivian struck. "Six years, Eleanor," she said, her voice like a silken blade slicing the air. "Since you joined our family. This chateau and our summers in Saint Tropez lacks the cries of child. You haven't bear us an heir." She leaned in, feigning solicitude.

"Or is the delay deliberate? Vosstech has consumed you, hasn't it? A wife should nurture a legacy, not chase deadlines."

Eleanor's fork paused mid air, the caramel crackling under tension. Julian shifted beside her but offered no help to stop his mother from running her mouth. his focus was on his phone beneath the tablecloth. "Ma'am, we have been busy," she replied, her tone measured like a dam against the rising tide. "Children aren't a checklist item".

Vivian tittered, the sound echoing off the tapestried walls. "Timing? At thirty, your clock tolls louder than Big Ben. Six years of being married but you are barren in my son's bed. There's no patter of feet, no nursery in this heirloom home. Victor and I sacrificed a lot for the empire, but you? Parading as an executive in jewels I selected." She gestured dismissively at Eleanor's emerald necklace which is a Voss heirloom that now felt like a noose.

"An heir is the bare minimum Or is it incompetence?. I have seen career women like you end up empty and wasted like trash".

The venom landed like Parisian rain, cold and unrelenting. Victor coughed lightly while looking at Julian with a stern gaze. "Bloodlines don't pause for promotions, son. Secure it."

Eleanor's cheeks flamed with a rush of humiliation and fury. She turned to Julian, her hazel eyes flashing with a look of "Defend us. Say something", But he merely nodded, swirling his glass.

"Mother has a valid point, Eleanor," he said coolly, as if appraising a vintage. "We have indulged your role long enough. The family's legacy comes first starting from tonight".

The indifference shattered her. Vivian piled on. "Indeed. Without a child, what's your stake, outsider? Julian could have wed fertility itself, not this boardroom phantom."

"Enough, Mother," Julian sighed, but it was half hearted. He signaled the end of the meal, rising abruptly. "The party's in an hour. We must go."

The Bentley slicing through the Champs-Élysées traffic toward the Vosstech gala at a gilded ballroom near the Louvre. Streetlights blurred into golden streaks and the Eiffel Tower winking in the distance, but the car's interior crackled with unspoken storm. Eleanor stared out at the passing Haussmann boulevards, her fingers clenched in her lap and the thin gold wedding band digging into her skin. The Silence stretched but it wasn't too long before it snapped.

"How could you?" she hissed at Julian as the driver navigated a roundabout. "Your mother insulted me. She called me barren and you just sit there? Agreeing, like it's quarterly earnings on the line?"

Julian's jaw tightened, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Don't overreact, Eleanor. It's just family talk and my Mother always like been straightforward And she's not wrong. We have been together for six years but there's no progress. The party's no place for hysterics."

"Hysterics?" Her voice rose, laced with disbelief and years of bottled resentment. "This isn't just talk. It's humiliation. In front of your father, your mother reduced me to a factory for heirs. And you sided with her?".

He scoffed, loosening his tie. "Our marriage is the company, Eleanor. You knew that when you signed on. Children are meant to secure it and that's the end of our sttory. If you are so wounded, see a specialist. But tonight? Smile and network. Vosstech needs unity, not your drama."

Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back, the city's lights reflecting her fracturing resolve. "Unity?, This is control. Your mother's venom, your silence. All is suffocating. If that's all I am to you, maybe it's time I question my place."

The car pulled up to the ballroom's velvet-roped entrance, valets swarming like courtiers. Julian straightened his cuffs, his expression smoothing into corporate poise. "Save it for therapy. We are here." He exited first, extending a hand she ignored, stepping out into the flash of paparazzi lights alone.

As Eleanor ascended the marble steps, the argument's echo lingered, a chasm widening beneath the evening's facade.