Chapter 10 - Skeletons in the Safe
By 2:00 PM, Landon was locked in a central holding cell awaiting an arraignment hearing without bail, following Martin’s formal submission of the wire fraud evidence.
Sloane insisted on accompanying me back to the Vance penthouse estate along with Keeley and Brit. Under the escort of a court-appointed bailiff, we had the legal right to secure the premises and search for any concealed financial records before Landon’s defense could attempt to access the property.
The luxury penthouse, once a sanctuary of our shared life, now felt like a mausoleum of deception. Every painting, every piece of imported furniture, every award displayed on the shelves felt tainted by the rot of Landon’s lies.
We moved directly to Landon’s private study, a room he had kept under a biometric fingerprint lock for over three years. With the court order, the locksmith had the heavy oak door open in under two minutes.
"Start with the desk drawers," Brit said, pulling out forensic evidence bags. "Look for bank tokens, thumb drives, or paper ledgers."
Sloane walked over to the floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelf. She tapped along the carved wooden panels until her fingers found a faint, hollow seam behind an antique encyclopedia set. "Harper. Look at this."
She pushed against the molding. With a soft click, a concealed compartment popped open, revealing a small, velvet-lined cavity.
Inside rested a single brass key engraved with the number **414** and the emblem of First Trust Bank of Chicago—the very bank where my father had conducted his private wealth management for four decades.
Beneath the key lay an envelope sealed with dried red wax. Written across the front in Landon’s sharp, arrogant cursive were the words:
*Insurance Policy — Vance Estate Contingency.*
My hands shook as I broke the wax seal and slid out the contents. It wasn't financial statements.
It was a scanned copy of an original birth certificate dated thirty-two years ago, issued in Geneva, Switzerland. The child’s name was *Elise Calloway.*
And under the section labeled "Father," written in clean, undeniable type, was the name:
*Thomas Vance.*
My knees went weak. I caught myself on the edge of the desk, my breath catching in my throat.
Thomas Vance was my father.
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Elise Calloway was not an angel investor. She was not Landon’s hidden mistress.
She was my half-sister.
