Chapter 3
Inside the private study at the far end of the East Wing, the atmosphere was stifling. Portraits of past Vance patriarchs lined the dark wood-paneled walls, their painted eyes seeming to judge the living descendants who had squandered their hard-earned legacies on vanity and social posturing. Julian Vance, the younger brother of Charles, sat behind a massive oak desk, swirling amber liquid in a crystal tumbler. He was not invited to the main ballroom downstairs, relegated to the shadows while the elite socialized. Yet, Julian held the one piece of leverage that could shatter Evelyn’s pristine public image overnight.
The heavy mahogany door creaked open, and Charles walked in without knocking, closing it firmly behind him. Julian did not look up immediately; he simply watched the amber liquid slosh against the crystal.
“She knows,” Charles said bluntly, walking over to the fireplace where a modest fire crackled, casting dancing shadows across his tuxedo.
“Evelyn always knows when her control is slipping,” Julian replied, his voice raspy from years of quiet bitterness. “She spent forty years building this dynasty on sand, Charles, and she genuinely believes that if she yells loud enough, the tide won’t come in. Where are the girls?”
“Safe, for now,” Charles lied smoothly, though the hesitation in his voice betrayed him. He could not bring himself to tell his brother that Clara and Sofia had already taken the secondary vehicle toward the municipal airfield. If Julian knew their exact location, his volatile nature would complicate an already perilous extraction.
Julian set his glass down with a sharp clink against the oak desk. He stood up, towering over Charles despite his slight hunch. “Don’t lie to me, brother. I saw the manifests. Maya isn't just moving funds; she’s moving people. And she’s doing it using our grandfather’s emergency protocols—protocols that require a unanimous vote from the board, or a direct override from someone holding the primary key.”
Charles turned around, facing his brother squarely. “Maya holds the trust of the foundation because neither you nor Evelyn possessed the restraint to handle it. You wanted to liquidate the historical preservation fund to cover your private debts in Geneva. Evelyn wanted to siphon the scholarship grants into her vanity real estate projects. You both treated this family’s legacy like a personal ATM.”
“And you were happy to watch until your own name appeared on the federal subpoena list,” Julian shot back, stepping closer. The air between them crackled with decades of suppressed resentment. “Don’t act like a martyr, Charles. You signed every fraudulent document with a smile on your face, as long as it kept your name out of the society columns.”
May you like
Before Charles could retort, a sharp knock echoed at the study door. Maya walked in uninvited, her dark green gown sweeping the floor with quiet grace. Her phone was tucked securely away, and her face was an impenetrable fortress of calm.
“Gentlemen,” Maya said, her voice cutting through their argument like a scalpel. “We don’t have time for a family reunion. The state auditors just pulled up to the main gates. We have three minutes to disappear.”
