On the morning of my wedding, my mother threw my $2,000 silk dress into the fireplace / Chapter 32 / 53

Chapter 32 - The 27th Year

Lucas opened his passenger door and stepped out into the rain. I slid across the seat and stepped down into the mud right behind him, my hair immediately soaking through in the downpour. Julian cursed under his breath and stepped out beside me, his tall frame a protective wall at my right, while Detective Ruiz moved silently into the pine tree shadow to flank the perimeter.

We walked side by side toward the porch light: the twin heirs of Clara Hastings, together for the first time in twenty-six years.

Sterling Vance smiled, a cold, reptile grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Look at you two. Clara’s spitting images. Bernice did an admirable job keeping you small, Elaine. It’s truly a pity Richard was too clumsy to finish the job."

"Bernice is locked in a prison hospital, Vance," I said, my voice ringing clear and steady above the thunder. "And Richard gave up everything before he crashed."

Vance’s smile twitched slightly, a micro-fracture in his polished veneer. "Richard Bradley is an addict who knows nothing of corporate governance. The Hastings Trust stipulates that both living heirs must present themselves with the intact medallion at the registered archive before midnight of their twenty-seventh year."

Vance slowly checked his gold wristwatch.

"It is currently 11:48 PM," Vance noted with calm cruelty. "In twelve minutes, you turn twenty-seven, Elaine. But if the physical archive server inside this cabin is reduced to cinders before the clock strikes twelve, the contingency clause activates automatically. The patents become unencumbered corporate property."

He signaled with his cane.

The two guards immediately unscrewed the caps on the gasoline canisters, splashing fuel across the dry cedar logs of the cabin porch. The chemical stench of gasoline hit the air, instantly competing with the smell of the damp pine needles.

"You won't get away with this, Vance," Julian said, stepping forward, his voice dripping with authority. "Federal marshals have already been notified. Your board of directors will remove you by sunrise."

"By sunrise, Julian, I will own the cure for three degenerative neural conditions worth fifty billion dollars," Vance chuckled smoothly. "Boards forgive everything when profits double."