Chapter 4 - THE BROTHER WHO DIDN’T EXIST
Julian read the document three times.
The words did not change.
Elias Vance.
Male.
Born twenty-nine years earlier.
Father listed as Alexander Vance.
Julian’s father.
Mother’s name sealed.
“This is impossible.”
Agent Shaw closed the folder.
“The records appear authentic.”
“My father had one son.”
Clara looked at him.
“You.”
“Yes.”
Reynolds asked, “Are you certain?”
Julian almost laughed.
“As certain as anyone can be about their own family.”
But even as he said it, he understood how meaningless certainty had become.
For four years he had been certain Clara was somewhere beyond his reach.
She had been inside his house.
He had been certain Conrad was helping him.
Conrad had delivered Clara to Victoria.
He had been certain Peter Dane was dead.
Dane was alive.
Certainty meant nothing now.
“Where is Elias?” Julian asked.
“We don’t know,” Shaw replied.
“What does he have to do with Clara?”
“We don’t know that either.”
Clara touched one line on the transfer sheet.
“C.V.-2.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What if it doesn’t mean Conrad Vance?”
Shaw frowned.
“What do you think it means?”
“Second Vance child.”
Julian looked at her.
The idea was simple enough to be terrifying.
Three hundred thousand dollars a month.
Fourteen point four million over four years.
Not stolen randomly.
Paid to someone.
Or for someone.
“What was my father paying for?” Julian asked.
Nobody answered.
That afternoon Julian’s attorney, Rachel Mercer, arrived from Manhattan.
Rachel had represented the Vance family for fifteen years and had never trusted Victoria.
She made that clear within thirty seconds.
“I told your father not to give that woman signing authority.”
Julian stared at her.
“You knew?”
“I knew Victoria was ambitious. I didn’t know she was kidnapping wives.”
Rachel spread documents across the conference table.
“Here’s the immediate problem. Victoria’s team is pushing the narrative that Clara entered treatment voluntarily.”
Clara sat across from her.
“They have forged documents.”
“I believe you.”
“That won’t be enough.”
“No.”
Rachel looked directly at her.
“We need to prove coercion in ways they can’t explain away.”
Clara’s expression hardened.
“The room.”
“They’ll call it medical.”
“The bruises.”
“They’ll say you harmed yourself.”
“The staff.”
“They’ll challenge their credibility.”
Clara leaned back.
“So she planned everything.”
Rachel hesitated.
“Yes.”
Julian looked toward the window.
Victoria always had plans inside plans.
She had spent four years preparing for the possibility that Clara would be discovered.
Which meant she had always known discovery was possible.
“Why bring Clara into the main house?” Julian asked.
Clara answered.
“She didn’t.”
Everyone turned.
“What do you mean?” Reynolds asked.
“I escaped the west wing yesterday morning.”
Julian stared at her.
“You escaped?”
Clara nodded.
“There’s an old laundry passage.”
“How did you know?”
“Anna showed me.”
Julian looked toward the door.
The young maid had been brought to the hospital for questioning.
Clara continued.
“Victoria was supposed to be at a charity dinner until midnight. You were supposed to be in Chicago until tomorrow.”
“I came home early.”
“I didn’t know.”
“What were you trying to do?”
“Reach the front door.”
The tray.
The tea.
The servant uniform.
Julian suddenly understood.
Clara had not been working openly as a housekeeper.
She had stolen clothing to blend in.
“Then you dropped the tray.”
She gave him the smallest smile.
“You always hated noisy entrances.”
His eyes filled.
“I’ll make an exception.”
Clara looked down.
“I had almost reached the door.”
“And then I walked in.”
“Yes.”
Julian let out a shaky breath.
One coincidence.
Four years of searching.
One canceled meeting in Chicago.
One early flight.
Ten seconds later and Clara might have slipped through the front doors before he entered.
Or Victoria might have found her first.
Julian didn’t know which possibility frightened him more.
That evening, Reynolds interviewed Anna.
The maid was twenty-four and had worked at Vance Manor for eighteen months.
Her account was devastating.
She had discovered Clara by accident after being sent into the west wing to replace linens.
Victoria warned her that the woman was dangerous.
A psychiatric patient.
Violent.
Manipulative.
Anna initially believed her.
Then she noticed Clara never became violent.
She only became frightened when Victoria entered.
“I started leaving food,” Anna said.
Julian sat behind the observation glass with Rachel.
“Mrs. Vance was always hungry.”
Julian looked away.
Anna continued.
“Sometimes Mrs. Sterling wouldn’t let anyone bring food for a day or two if Mrs. Vance refused medication.”
Reynolds asked, “What medication?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ever witness physical violence?”
Anna began crying.
“Yes.”
Julian stood.
Rachel caught his arm.
“Sit.”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
“You need to.”
He sat.
Anna described guards.
Punishments.
Cold showers.
Sleep deprivation.
Threats.
Nothing was graphic.
It didn’t need to be.
Every sentence was enough.
Then Reynolds asked, “Why didn’t you contact police?”
Anna wiped her eyes.
“I tried.”
Julian froze.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“What happened?”
“I called from a gas station.”
“And?”
“A detective came to the estate.”
Reynolds frowned.
“Name?”
“Detective Palmer.”
Reynolds’ expression changed.
Julian noticed.
“You know him?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
Finally she said:
“Retired last month.”
Anna shook her head.
“He talked to Mrs. Sterling for twenty minutes. Then he left. That night she knew it was me.”
“What happened?”
“My younger brother was arrested the next morning.”
“For what?”
“Drugs.”
Anna started sobbing.
“He doesn’t use drugs.”
Julian stared through the glass.
Victoria’s network extended beyond his estate.
Police.
Lawyers.
Doctors.
Bankers.
Who else?
After the interview, Reynolds pulled Julian aside.
“Palmer’s daughter works for Helix.”
Julian gave a humorless laugh.
“Of course she does.”
“We’ll handle him.”
Julian walked into Clara’s room later that night.
She was awake.
Moonlight crossed the bed.
He sat in the chair beside her.
“Do you remember our first apartment?”
Clara looked at him.
“On West Seventy-Third?”
“The radiator sounded like it was dying every night.”
“You called the landlord seventeen times.”
“He deserved eighteen.”
She smiled.
This one lasted longer.
They had been married before the money became enormous.
Before Vance Holdings expanded across three continents.
Before private jets and estates and security teams.
They had once eaten Chinese food on the floor because they couldn’t afford a dining table.
“I miss those people,” Clara whispered.
Julian understood.
“So do I.”
“The world felt smaller.”
“And safer.”
She looked at him.
“Do you think we can ever be them again?”
“No.”
Her face fell slightly.
Julian leaned forward.
“I think we can be better.”
Clara stared at him.
“We know what things cost now.”
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Clara said, “There’s something else in the west wing.”
Julian’s expression changed.
“What?”
“A name carved under the bed.”
“What name?”
“I found it during the second year.”
She swallowed.
“Someone had been in that room before me.”
Julian leaned closer.
“Who?”
Clara whispered:
“Elias.”
Julian stopped breathing.
“You’re sure?”
“E-L-I-A-S.”
“How old did it look?”
“Old.”
She closed her eyes.
“There were marks beside it.”
“What kind of marks?”
“Dates.”
Julian’s pulse quickened.
“Which dates?”
Clara opened her eyes.
“Some went back twenty years.”
The west-wing room hadn’t been built for Clara.
It had existed long before she disappeared.
Julian stood.
His father had been alive twenty years ago.
So had his mother.
And if Elias Vance had been held in that room…
Then Victoria had not created the family’s darkest secret.
She had inherited it.
Julian’s phone rang.
Rachel.
He answered.
Her voice was tight.
“Julian, we have a problem.”
“What?”
“Victoria was released.”
He stood completely still.
“How?”
“Insufficient evidence for immediate detention. Her attorneys moved fast.”
Julian looked at Clara.
Rachel continued.
“And she just filed an emergency injunction freezing your control over Vance Holdings.”
“On what grounds?”
“Undisclosed conflict of interest and mental incapacity.”
Julian almost laughed.
“My incapacity?”
“No.”
Rachel paused.
“Your father’s.”
Julian frowned.
“He’s been dead twelve years.”
“I know.”
“Then what is she claiming?”
“That Alexander Vance lacked legal authority to leave the company to you.”
Julian felt cold.
“Why?”
Rachel took a breath.
“Because she claims you were never his legal heir.”
Silence.
May you like
Then Rachel said:
“She says Elias was.”
