My mother demanded the deed to my $1.2 million house because, according to her: / Chapter 36 / 60

Chapter 36 - The Broken Matriarch

Back in Seattle, it was barely nine o'clock in the morning.

Eleanor Vance sat in the sun-drenched breakfast nook of her penthouse condo, sipping Earl Grey tea and reviewing an eviction appeal her crooked attorneys were drafting against me for Maplewood Court. Julian, my feckless brother, was lounging on the sofa, scrolling through sports cars he intended to buy with his cut of the estate.

Suddenly, Eleanor’s laptop on the granite table pinged with a high-priority, encrypted video call request.

The display read: *FEDERAL SUPREME COURT OF SWITZERLAND / VANCE GLOBAL TRUST.*

Frowning, Eleanor tapped the screen. "Hello? What is this nonsense? If this is another one of Lauren's bankrupt delaying tactics—"

The screen flickered. The camera focused on a mahogany-paneled boardroom overlooking Lake Zurich.

Sitting side by side at the center of the conference table were two people.

On the right was me, dressed in an impeccably tailored navy Chanel suit, the four-billion-dollar ledger open before me.

And on the left, looking directly into the camera lens with cold, immortal clarity, sat Richard Vance.

Eleanor dropped her porcelain teacup. It shattered on the marble floor, splashing hot tea across her silk slippers. Her face turned a ghastly, bloodless shade of ash gray. Her jaw went slack; her eyes bulged with an expression of sheer, unadulterated terror.

"R-Richard...?" she gasped, her voice shrinking to a pathetic, strangled squeak.

"Hello, Eleanor," my father said, his voice quiet, steady, and chillingly devoid of mercy.

Julian jumped up from the sofa, staring at the screen in pure disbelief. "Dad?! That's... that's impossible! You died on Highway 101!"

"I allowed you to believe that, Julian," Richard said, his gaze shifting to his son with profound disappointment. "Because for sixteen years, I wanted to see who you truly were when you thought no one was watching. And you chose to become Arthur Montgomery’s parasitic lapdog, tormenting your own sister for the scrapings of my table."

"Richard, please!" Eleanor suddenly collapsed against the table, sobbing hysterically into the camera. "Arthur forced me! He threatened me! I did it to protect the family! I swear on my life, Richard, I loved you! I was trying to save Lauren!"

"Save me?" I leaned forward into the camera, my voice like chilled steel. "You served me an eviction notice on the anniversary of his supposed death. You tried to throw me out on the street. You stole my college funds, my inheritance, and tried to strip my name."

I signaled to Herr Weber standing beside the camera.

"Eleanor Vance," I continued calmly. "As of two minutes ago, the Vance Global Trust has seized the mortgage on your penthouse, frozen all joint accounts in the Western Hemisphere, and filed criminal charges for conspiracy to commit murder and international securities fraud with the U.S. Department of Justice. The FBI is currently in the lobby of your building."