Chapter 6 - Desperate Schemes
By nightfall, the Vance estate was silent once more.
Moving vans had hauled away thirty suitcases and dozens of wardrobe boxes belonging to Patricia, Sofia, and Alejandro. The locks on every exterior door had been digitally re-coded, and private security maintained a 24-hour perimeter around the iron gates.
Yet, as Don Ricardo warned me over dinner in the private library, a wounded predator is at its most dangerous when backed into a corner.
Patricia Vance did not go quietly into the night.
By Tuesday morning, forty-eight hours after their eviction, my phone began ringing off the hook. Notifications exploded across social media.
"Elena, you need to see this," Montgomery said, walking briskly into the estate’s sunroom where Ricardo and I were reviewing the logistics company’s annual reports. Montgomery laid an iPad on the glass table.
On the screen was an exclusive video segment broadcast on a major high-society gossip blog and picked up by local television news.
Patricia sat on an expensive velvet couch in Sofia’s cramped downtown apartment, dabbing her dry eyes with a lace handkerchief. Alejandro sat beside her, looking solemn, holding his mother’s hand like a dutiful, heartbroken son.
*"She was an orphan we took in out of the goodness of our hearts,"* Patricia sobbed to the camera, her voice trembling with manufactured grief. *"We treated Elena like a princess. We welcomed her into our lineage. But she manipulated my elderly, ailing husband. She took advantage of Ricardo’s cognitive decline to isolate him from his children, forge real estate transfers, and throw us out onto the street on Christmas Day without a coat on our backs!"*
Alejandro leaned toward the microphone, his voice dripping with righteous sorrow.
*"I only ever wanted to love my wife,"* Alejandro told the interviewer. *"I worked eighty hours a week to provide for her. But she became obsessed with wealth. She fabricated domestic abuse allegations against my elderly mother to justify seizing the family estate. I am filing for emergency conservatorship over my father to protect him from this predator."*
The comment section below the video was a raging sewer of outrage. Thousands of people, misled by the polished sob story, were calling for my arrest, branding me a gold-digger, a monster, and an elder abuser.
I felt a brief surge of anxiety tighten my chest, but Don Ricardo merely chuckled, sipping his espresso.
"Predictable," Ricardo remarked, waving his hand dismissively. "Patricia has only ever known one weapon: public perception. She thinks social pressure can overturn legal titles and forensic audits."
"They’ve also filed an emergency injunction to freeze your personal bank accounts, Elena," Montgomery noted, tapping through the legal documents on his tablet. "Alejandro claims that the funds you used to pay off the Vance Group debt three years ago were embezzled from corporate slush funds rather than your personal inheritance."
"Can they freeze them?" I asked.
"Not a chance," Montgomery grinned, his eyes gleaming like a shark scenting blood. "Mateo Sterling’s trust was administered through the Swiss Federal Banking Commission and verified by three independent federal judges before a single cent touched US soil. Every dollar is tracked, certified, and bulletproof. But more importantly... Patricia made a fatal mistake."
"What mistake?"
"She went on television," Montgomery said. "Under oath of public broadcast, she accused you of forging documents, elder abuse, and fabricating assault. That opens her up to immediate, uncapped civil defamation lawsuits. Furthermore, Dr. Thomas’s forensic medical report, combined with the security footage Davis saved, proves beyond any reasonable doubt that Patricia committed felony assault and perjury."
Before I could reply, the study telephone rang. Davis answered it, listening for a moment before looking over at Don Ricardo.
"Sir, it is the board of directors of the Vance Children’s Charity Foundation. The annual New Year’s Eve Gala is scheduled for tomorrow night at the Grand Plaza Hotel. The media is currently besieging the venue. The board wants to know if the event should be canceled."
Patricia had served as the chairwoman of that charity foundation for twenty years, using it to maintain her queen-bee status among the city’s high-society elite.
Don Ricardo looked at me, an arched eyebrow daring me to take the reins.
"Elena," Ricardo said quietly. "You are the primary benefactor of that foundation. It was funded almost entirely by your grandfather’s original endowments. Do we cancel?"
I stood up, walking toward the window that overlooked the vast, snow-covered gardens. For five years, I had hidden in the shadows, apologizing for my existence, allowing Patricia to treat me like a shameful secret.
May you like
"No, Davis," I said, turning back to face them, my voice ringing with absolute certainty. "Tell the board the gala proceeds exactly as planned. And tell the press that Elena Sterling will be hosting the keynote address."
---
