Chapter 2: Echoes in the Glass House
The estate sat like an obsidian fortress perched over the northern coast, surrounded by towering pines and steel security fences. Inside, the silence was suffocating.
Vincent poured two fingers of bourbon into a crystal tumbler, his hands shaking slightly. He watched Julian navigate the perimeter of the living room, tapping his cane with deliberate, measured rhythms against the hardwood floor.
"The pilot was just patrolling the marine sanctuary," Vincent said, forcing a casual warmth into his voice that sounded utterly hollow. "Gave me quite a fright, though. You were inches from the drop, Jules. You have to be more careful."
"I thought I was following your voice," Julian replied softly, sitting on the leather sofa. He kept his gaze unfocused, staring straight through the glass table where Vincent had carelessly tossed his leather-bound portfolio.
"The wind plays tricks out there," Vincent lied smoothly, taking a long sip of whiskey. "I told Dad before he passed... this coast isn't safe for someone with your condition. That’s why we need to finalize the conservatorship papers tomorrow. I’ll handle the foundation, the assets, the upkeep. You won't have to worry about a thing."
Julian nodded slowly. Beneath his dark lenses, his eyes scanned the document sitting open on the table. It wasn’t a conservatorship form; it was an irrevocable transfer of the Vance Family Trust, naming Vincent as the sole beneficiary upon Julian's death or declared permanent incapacity.
At the bottom of the page, beneath their late father’s forged signature, lay a small post-it note in Vincent’s hurried handwriting: *Witness verification—Dr. Keller, Friday.*
May you like
Julian reached into his pocket, his hand brushing against an old silver pocket watch—the only heirloom their father had managed to hand him before the blaze. *Patience,* Julian told himself. *He wants you dead, but he needs your signature first.*
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