Chapter 17 - The Confrontation at Taycheedah
The storm broke at dawn, leaving the bluffs coated in a gleaming layer of autumn frost. While Hayes and Julian mobilized a federal marshals team in Milwaukee to prepare an ambush for Arthur Vance’s morning court filing, I drove two hours northwest to the maximum-security visitation wing of Taycheedah Correctional Institution.
I didn't go as a frightened daughter or a victim seeking closure. I went wearing my tailored charcoal suit, Grandfather’s brass harbor key pinned to my lapel, carrying the certified sealed copies of the 1959 adoption ledger.
The heavy steel security door buzzed open. Beatrice sat across from me behind the scratched, bulletproof partition, dressed in the drab, oversized khaki jumpsuit of an inmate. Her dyed blonde hair was growing out in dull gray streaks; her manicured nails had been cut down to the quick, and the pampered, haughty sneer that had defined her entire life was twisted into a bitter, venomous smirk.
She picked up the plastic telephone receiver with theatrical arrogance. "Come to beg for mercy, Lenora? Did Arthur Vance give you a taste of what real power feels like?"
I picked up my receiver, looking straight through the reinforced glass into her hollow, selfish eyes.
"You look smaller in khaki, Beatrice," I said calmly.
Her sneer tightened. "Don't get cocky with me, girl! By noon today, the maritime academy is frozen by federal order. Vance promised me twenty-five percent of the liquidated port assets once he takes over the harbor. I will have a penthouse in Naples and ten million in offshore accounts by the time I appeal my sentence, while you and that hired dock thug Hayes are thrown out into the snow!"
"You really believe Arthur Vance is going to give you a penny?" I asked, tilting my head in genuine pity. "Vance used you to get Grandfather’s records. And you handed him a weapon that has just signed your death warrant for twenty additional years in federal prison."
Beatrice’s eyes flickered with a brief spark of unease. "What are you talking about? The 1974 indenture is legally binding! I am Douglas Sterling’s only daughter!"
I raised the Brown County sealed adoption manifest against the glass, pressing the certified seal directly against her view.
"You are the biological child of Robert Cole, an embezzler who died in Waupun State Prison in 1961," I said, every word hitting her like a whip. "Alistair Vance bought you for five hundred dollars and handed you to Grandfather Sterling to use as a blackmail leash. You were never legally adopted under Wisconsin law. Grandfather made sure of it."
Beatrice turned the color of chalk. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. The receiver shook in her hand.
"The biological survivor clause in the 1974 agreement invalidates the debt completely," I continued, leaning closer to the glass. "And your sworn affidavit claiming to be the lawful heir of the Sterling bloodline constitutes aggravated perjury, interstate wire fraud, and conspiracy to extort a sovereign trust. Julian Mercer filed the indictment with the United States Attorney thirty minutes ago."
"No..." Beatrice gasped, dropping the phone onto the stainless steel ledge. "No, Douglas loved me! He bought me horses! He bought me the Kenosha house! He wouldn't... he couldn't leave me with nothing!"
"Grandfather gave you fifty years of luxury you never earned," I said through the receiver, my voice steady, merciless, and final. "And in return, you tried to destroy his life's work, steal from your granddaughter, and frame your other daughter. Arthur Vance is going to prison today, Beatrice. And you are going to die in this room."
May you like
I hung up the phone, stood up, and walked out of the visitation hall, leaving my mother pounding hysterically on the glass, screaming soundless curses as the guards dragged her away.
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