Chapter 53 - The Cell in Florence
The Federal Correctional Institution in Florence, Colorado, smelled of industrial floor stripper and stale coffee. Sitting across the partition in the non-contact visitation booth, Eleanor Vance looked thinner, her hair graying at the roots, but her spine remained as rigid as an iron bar.
When she saw me, her lips curved into a cold, triumphant smile. She picked up the plastic receiver, and I did the same.
"You look tired, Lauren," Eleanor said through the crackling speaker. "I assume you’ve met your brother."
"You carried a child for Arthur Montgomery before you even married Dad," I said, skipping any greeting. "You hid him for thirty-two years while using my father's money to build an estate you intended to hand to your secret son all along."
Eleanor let out a sharp, mocking sigh. "Richard was a pathetic, sentimental fool. He thought building a pretty house would keep me by his side. But Arthur Montgomery was an eagle. We built an empire, Lauren. And Julian—his legal name is Julian Arthur Montgomery—was raised in Switzerland, educated at Oxford, and prepared to inherit everything Arthur and I carved out."
"He calls himself Arthur Jr. now," I replied coldly. "And he just tried to throw Dad out of his own home."
"It was never Richard’s home!" Eleanor snapped, her knuckles whitening against the receiver. "I designed Maplewood Court. I picked the location, I chose the marble, I orchestrated every brick. Richard was merely the contractor who paid the invoices. Julian was always the rightful heir to the Vance-Montgomery trust. If you hadn't betrayed me, Lauren—if you hadn't run to the feds with those offshore ledgers—I would have divided it fairly. But you chose your weak, pathetic father. So now, you will lose everything."
"You made a mistake, Eleanor," I said, leaning closer to the glass. "You think Julian is doing this for you. You think he's executing your grand vengeance from beyond your cage."
Eleanor's brow furrowed slightly. "He is my son. He is loyal to blood."
"Julian filed a secondary petition yesterday morning," I whispered, watching her face closely. "He petitioned the court to void all of your power of attorney agreements on the grounds of criminal incapacitation. He isn’t reclaiming the house for you, Eleanor. He’s liquidating it to pay off his debts to a hedge fund syndicate in Geneva. He left you to rot here. Just like you left him in Europe thirty years ago."
The color drained from Eleanor’s face. For the first time in my life, I saw a flicker of raw, unadulterated panic in her eyes.
"No," she stammered, her voice shaking. "He... he promised. Arthur left a private vault beneath the wine cellar. Julian needs my key..."
May you like
"What vault, Eleanor?" I demanded, pressing my palm against the glass. "Tell me right now, or your golden boy will sell Maplewood Court to the highest bidder before you even see your trial."
***
