Chapter 7 - The Reckoning of Eleanor Vance
"We didn't touch her!" Chloe shrieked, backing her mother up. "If she got an infection, that's her own fault for being weak! You can't blame us for wanting a vacation after dealing with her complaining for a week!"
I opened the second leather folder on the table.
Inside were bank printouts, property deeds, and recorded audio transcripts provided by Viktor.
"This is Mark's official confession," I said, sliding the document across the mahogany wood. "Given to the NYPD at 2:00 a.m. this morning."
Chloe gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Mark? What did he say?!"
"He admitted that you and Mother deliberately hid Maya's medication," I said coldly. "He admitted that you shut off the heating grid to accelerate her fever. And he admitted that he stayed behind in Brooklyn to break into my floor safe to steal the master real estate deeds before Maya's body was even cold."
Eleanor's hands began to shake uncontrollably. "He's lying! Mark is a coward! He's trying to save himself!"
"The security cameras in my storage room don't lie, Mother," I said softly. "I watched him drill into the safe live on my phone while I carried my dying wife to the hospital."
Silence heavy as lead descended upon the room.
Eleanor realized, for the very first time in her life, that she had lost complete control.
She had built her entire existence on manipulating men—first my father, then me. But she had pushed too far. She had targeted the woman I loved and the child who carried my future.
"What... what are you going to do to us?" Chloe wept, breaking down into hysterical sobs. "David, I'm your sister! We're blood!"
"Blood didn't stop you from freezing my son," I replied, my eyes fixed on her.
I opened the third folder.
"Effective as of 8:00 a.m. today," I stated, reading from the legal document, "I have stripped both of you from the Vance Family Trust."
Eleanor stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You can't do that! My husband built that trust!"
"And I control it," I replied, looking up at her with cold, unyielding eyes. "The family mansion in Greenwich has been put up for sale. The penthouse in Manhattan is being transferred into a trust fund for my son, Liam. The monthly allowances you both received—thirty thousand dollars a month—are officially terminated."
"You're making us homeless?!" Eleanor gasped, her voice cracking with pure horror.
May you like
"No," I said flatly. "I bought a small two bedroom townhouse in upstate New York. It is fully paid off. I have placed fifty thousand dollars in a restricted account that pays out exactly two thousand dollars a month for basic groceries and utilities."
I looked at my mother. "You wanted Maya to 'make do with what's left.' Now, you get to do the same."
