Chapter 12 - The Sister Who Never Existed
The name hung in the suffocating air of the dining room like a ghost summoned from the grave. Julian staggered backward, his shoulder colliding with the back of a dining chair, sending it crashing to the floor with a loud, clattering bang.
“Sarah?” Julian choked out, the syllable tearing through his throat as if it were coated in glass. “That’s... that’s insane. Sarah died in the boating accident when we were teenagers. We attended the memorial service! Mother, you wept at her grave every single year on her birthday!”
Clara stared at the federal agent in sheer bewilderment, her grip on the baby carrier slipping slightly before she tightened her fingers again.
“Who is Sarah?” Clara asked, looking frantically between Julian and Elena. “Julian, you never told me you had a sister!”
Elena slowly stood up from the head of the table, her beige dress whispering against the floor as she loomed over the room like an inescapable shadow. She didn't look remorseful, nor did she look defensive; she looked like a general surveying a battlefield she had meticulously engineered.
“A funeral is very easy to stage when an empty casket is lowered into the ground under heavy rain and sealed before anyone can look inside,” Elena stated, her voice chillingly calm.
Julian’s face turned an ashen white. He stared at his mother, the horror of her cold calculation finally breaking through every defense he had left.
“You staged her death?” Julian whispered, his voice trembling so violently he could barely form the words. “Why would you do that? What did Sarah do?”
Elena stepped around the mahogany table, walking slowly toward Julian, her gaze piercing and unyielding.
“Sarah didn't do anything wrong, Julian. That was her crime,” Elena answered softly. “She discovered that your father’s empire was built on stolen land and forged titles. She threatened to walk away from the Vance legacy and hand everything over to the rightful heirs of the original owners.”
The federal agent lowered the yellowed parchment, his eyes fixed on Elena with professional suspicion.
“If Sarah Vance is still alive, Mrs. Vance, aiding in the fabrication of a false death certificate and hiding a citizen from probate jurisdiction constitutes federal conspiracy and obstruction of justice,” the agent warned, his hand moving closer to his handcuffs.
Elena smiled faintly, stepping right up to her son and looking him dead in the eye.
“Sarah isn't hiding from the law, Agent,” Elena said, her voice dropping to a low, triumphant whisper. “She’s the one who called the FBI this morning.”
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Before anyone could process the terrifying implication of her words, the heavy front doors of the mansion swung wide open once more, and slow, deliberate footsteps echoed from the foyer.
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