Chapter 11: The Subpoena
Three days after the storm, a sleek black courier van rolled past the iron gates without resistance. A process server in a crisp gray suit stepped out, walked up the grand stone steps, and handed a thick manila envelope directly to Viktor, who stood waiting on the portico. The official seal of the County Superior Court was stamped across the front in red wax.
Inside, the legal notice was clear: The People of the State v. The Vance Estate Trust. The court had accepted the petition filed by Clara’s surviving legal representatives, demanding a full forensic audit of all corporate assets and a reassessment of Custa’s guardianship.
Viktor walked back inside, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him. He found Eleanor sitting in the formal dining room. The table was set for three, though only two plates of food sat on the polished mahogany. The small name card reading "Custa Hoe" was still propped against the crystal goblet—a deliberate, mocking reminder of the clerical error that had started the entire conflict.
Viktor picked up the name card, stared at the misspelled words for a long moment, and then slowly tore it in half, dropping the pieces into the crystal water glass.
"They've scheduled the deposition for next Tuesday," Viktor said, tossing the manila envelope onto the table.
Eleanor didn't look at the papers. She was watching Custa, who stood near the bay window, quietly pressing his fingers against the glass, watching a pair of sparrows brave the wet gravel outside. The boy was no longer crying. The endless stream of silent tears had stopped, replaced by a quiet, watchful resilience that mirrored Viktor’s own demeanor.
"Are you prepared to tell the judge the truth?" Eleanor asked quietly. "About Clara? About the audit? About the way we've run this household?"
Viktor pulled out his chair and sat down, his massive frame seeming heavier than usual. "I'm prepared to tell the judge that the Vance estate is bankrupt in every way that matters, unless we hand the boy over to someone who can teach him how to live instead of how to survive."
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Eleanor gasped, her hand flying to her pearl necklace. "You're going to give him away? After everything we fought for?"
"I'm giving him a future," Viktor corrected, his voice steady. "The audit will strip us of our holdings, but it will sever the legal chains binding him to this mausoleum. By Tuesday night, Custa will be across the state line with his mother’s family in Chicago. Safe. Out of reach."
