Chapter 5 - VICTORIA STRIKES BACK
By morning, the story was everywhere.
VANCE DYNASTY SUCCESSION CRISIS.
MISSING WIFE FOUND INSIDE FAMILY ESTATE.
SECRET HEIR MAY CONTROL BILLION-DOLLAR EMPIRE.
Helicopters hovered near Vance Manor.
Reporters crowded the gates.
Vance Holdings stock dropped eleven percent before noon.
Julian watched the coverage from a private hospital office.
He didn’t care about the stock.
That frightened the board more than anything.
His phone rang continuously.
Directors.
Investors.
Politicians.
Bank executives.
He ignored them.
Clara mattered.
The case mattered.
Everything else could burn.
At 9:20 a.m., Rachel entered.
“You need to come to headquarters.”
“No.”
“The board is calling an emergency vote.”
“Let them.”
“They’re considering temporary removal.”
Julian finally looked at her.
“On Victoria’s recommendation?”
“Among others.”
“Who?”
Rachel hesitated.
“Conrad.”
Julian laughed once.
His uncle had finally stopped pretending.
“Fine.”
He stood.
“I’ll go.”
Clara was eating breakfast when he returned to her room.
She watched him put on his jacket.
“Board meeting?”
“Yes.”
“Are they scared?”
“Terrified.”
“Good.”
Julian smiled.
There she was again.
He approached the bed.
“I’ll leave security outside.”
Clara’s expression changed.
“I don’t want Vance security.”
Julian stopped.
“Okay.”
“I want Detective Reynolds’ people.”
“Done.”
He did not argue.
That mattered.
Clara noticed.
“Julian.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t protect the company from the truth.”
He held her gaze.
“I won’t.”
“Even if your father was involved.”
A beat.
“Even then.”
Vance Tower rose fifty-eight stories over Manhattan.
Julian entered through a side garage to avoid reporters.
On the forty-ninth floor, twelve board members waited around a black table.
Conrad sat at the far end.
Julian stopped in the doorway.
His uncle looked exactly as he always had.
Silver hair.
Navy suit.
Calm blue eyes.
The man who taught Julian to sail.
The man who sat beside him at his mother’s funeral.
The man who had once told him family was the only thing money could never replace.
Julian took his seat.
Conrad sighed.
“I wish you had called me privately.”
Julian stared at him.
“You put my unconscious wife into a hidden room.”
The board erupted.
Conrad raised a hand.
“That video lacks context.”
Julian almost admired the audacity.
“What context makes kidnapping reasonable?”
“We were protecting her.”
“From what?”
“Herself.”
Julian stood.
The chairman, Robert Ames, intervened.
“Gentlemen.”
“No,” Julian said. “Let him speak.”
Conrad looked around the table.
“Clara had suffered a catastrophic emotional breakdown. She uncovered sensitive financial material and became paranoid.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“Convenient.”
“She accused half the family of criminal activity.”
“She was right.”
“We don’t know that.”
“The FBI does.”
The room fell silent.
Conrad’s expression flickered.
Julian saw it.
“Surprised?”
“You brought federal agents into this family?”
“No.”
Julian leaned across the table.
“You did.”
Ames cleared his throat.
“This meeting concerns corporate stability.”
Julian looked around the room.
“No. This meeting concerns whether any of you care how that stability was purchased.”
Nobody answered.
Victoria appeared on a screen at the end of the room.
Remote video.
Perfect makeup.
White suit.
Controlled smile.
Julian stared at her.
“You have courage appearing here.”
Victoria smiled.
“You confuse distance with fear.”
“What do you want?”
“What was always supposed to happen.”
“And that is?”
“The Vance family correcting an old mistake.”
She presented documents.
Alexander Vance’s first will.
A private birth certificate.
A sealed trust.
According to the records, Alexander had fathered Elias with a woman named Miriam Cole before marrying Julian’s mother.
Elias, as firstborn son, had originally been designated primary beneficiary of the Vance controlling trust.
Then, at age nine, Elias disappeared from public records.
No death certificate.
No adoption.
Nothing.
Five years later, Alexander amended the trust and named Julian his sole heir.
Victoria’s argument was simple.
Alexander had concealed Elias’s existence illegally.
If Elias was alive, control of the family trust could revert.
“Where is he?” Julian asked.
Victoria smiled.
“That is the billion-dollar question.”
Julian looked at Conrad.
“You know.”
Conrad said nothing.
The board voted.
Six to five, with one abstention.
Julian was temporarily removed from operational control pending review.
Conrad became interim executive chairman.
The room stayed silent after the result.
Julian buttoned his jacket.
Ames looked apologetic.
“This is temporary.”
Julian stared at each director.
“My wife spent four years in a locked room funded by money from this company.”
Ames shifted uncomfortably.
Julian continued.
“If removing me is what allows you to sleep tonight, enjoy your rest.”
He walked toward the door.
Conrad followed.
“Julian.”
He stopped.
“You’re making this personal.”
Julian turned slowly.
“You made it personal when you touched my wife.”
Conrad lowered his voice.
“You still don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“Your father didn’t hide Elias because he was ashamed.”
“Why did he hide him?”
Conrad looked toward the boardroom.
“Because Elias was dangerous.”
Julian laughed.
“A dangerous nine-year-old?”
“He became dangerous.”
“Where is he?”
Conrad stepped closer.
“If you find him, you may wish you hadn’t.”
Julian left.
Outside Vance Tower, reporters shouted his name.
One question cut through the others.
“Mr. Vance, did your family imprison your brother?”
Julian stopped.
The reporter continued.
“Did your father operate a private psychiatric facility for Elias Vance?”
Julian turned.
“Where did you hear that?”
The reporter raised his phone.
“A source just released medical files.”
Julian’s blood ran cold.
Within minutes, the documents were online.
Elias Vance.
Age nine.
Diagnosed with severe behavioral disorders.
Admitted to St. Raphael Behavioral Institute.
The institute had later become part of Helix Medical.
Julian read the file from the back seat of his car.
Symptoms included aggression.
Dissociation.
Paranoid episodes.
But something about the dates bothered him.
One diagnosis had been written when Elias was ten.
By Dr. Nathaniel Sterling.
Victoria’s father.
Another was signed by Conrad.
Not as physician.
As guardian.
Julian called Rachel.
“I want every record from St. Raphael.”
“Already working.”
“Find Miriam Cole.”
“Elias’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“She’d be in her sixties now.”
“If she’s alive, find her.”
Julian returned to the hospital just after dusk.
Detective Reynolds met him in the lobby.
“We have another issue.”
He almost laughed.
“Of course.”
“Clara received a message.”
“What message?”
“Delivered with flowers.”
Julian’s face changed.
“Who got flowers into her room?”
“Fake delivery credentials.”
“What did it say?”
Reynolds handed him a card inside an evidence sleeve.
STOP TALKING OR ANNA’S BROTHER DIES.
Julian looked toward the elevators.
“Where’s Clara?”
“Safe.”
He entered her room.
Clara was standing beside the window.
For the first time, she wore ordinary clothing instead of hospital clothing.
Gray sweatpants.
Blue sweater.
Simple.
Free.
She turned.
“You saw it?”
“Yes.”
“They want me quiet.”
“They’re afraid.”
“I know.”
Julian approached.
“We can move you somewhere else.”
“No.”
“Clara.”
“I spent four years being moved whenever someone else decided.”
He stopped.
She continued.
“I’m staying where I choose.”
“Here?”
“For tonight.”
“Okay.”
Her eyes softened.
“You’re learning.”
“I’m trying.”
She looked back at the city.
“Anna thinks this is her fault.”
“It isn’t.”
“I told her.”
Julian stood beside her.
Then Clara said, “There was another person in the west wing.”
He turned sharply.
“What?”
“Not with me.”
“When?”
“The first year.”
She pressed her fingers to her temple.
“I used to hear someone through the vent.”
“A man?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“Mostly nothing.”
“Clara.”
“I thought I imagined him.”
Julian waited.
“One night he whispered my name.”
Julian’s heartbeat changed.
“What else?”
“He told me not to take the blue pills.”
“Who was he?”
“I never saw him.”
She looked at Julian.
“But once, Victoria came into my room furious.”
“What happened?”
“She said, ‘You Vances never know when to stay buried.’”
Julian felt ice move through him.
Clara whispered:
“I think Elias was still in that house.”
At that exact moment, Detective Reynolds rushed into the room.
“Julian.”
“What?”
“We searched the sealed basement beneath the west wing.”
His stomach dropped.
“And?”
“There’s another room.”
Clara went pale.
Reynolds continued.
“The door was locked from the outside.”
Julian barely breathed.
“Was somebody in it?”
Reynolds stared at him.
“No.”
She raised an evidence bag.
May you like
Inside was a fresh paper coffee cup.
“But someone was there less than twenty-four hours ago.”
