Chapter 2 - The Family Vultures
I did not close the safe door. I did not hide the files.
I sat behind Julian’s heavy mahogany desk, placing the ledger, the medical records, and the USB drive directly in the center of the leather blotter. I rested my hands on the arms of the executive chair, watching the office door through the shadows.
Footsteps echoed up the marble stairs—hurried, arrogant, heavy.
The office door swung open, and the overhead lights flashed on.
Beatrice Sterling stood in the doorway, her silver hair impeccably set despite the hour, her tailored mink coat dripping rainwater onto the hardwood floor. Flanking her were two hulking security guards from Vance & Sterling’s private detail.
"Rebecca," Beatrice said, her voice smooth, refined, devoid of any auntly warmth. "You shouldn't be in here."
"And you shouldn't be trespassing in my home at three in the morning, Aunt Beatrice," I replied smoothly, not moving an inch.
Beatrice’s eyes darted past me to the open safe behind the desk. Her aristocratic composure faltered for a fraction of a second, her jaw tightening.
"Julian called me from the hospital before they took him into surgery," Beatrice said, stepping into the room while her guards remained at the threshold. "He was frantic. He told me you had taken leave of your senses, caused a public spectacle, and were attempting to destroy his reputation."
"Did he tell you why he was at the hospital, Beatrice?" I asked, leaning back in the chair. "Or did he omit the part where he was caught in an emergency room, physically locked together with Clarissa in a compromise so absurd it belongs in a tabloid?"
Beatrice scoffed, waving a gloved hand dismissively. "Julian’s personal indiscretions are irrelevant. Men of his stature have flaws. What matters is the company, Rebecca. You were always too emotional to see the bigger picture. Just like your mother."
I picked up the psychiatric evaluation signed by Dr. Harrison Cole and held it up.
"My mother wasn't emotional, Beatrice," I said, my voice dropping an octave, cold enough to freeze the air in the room. "She was poisoned. Systematically, legally, and deliberately. And you signed the authorization forms."
Beatrice froze. The color drained slowly from her face, leaving her pale beneath her expensive powder. "You... you don't know what you're reading."
"I am a former Chief Financial Officer, Beatrice. I know how to read a balance sheet, and I certainly know how to read a conspiracy," I said, slapping the document onto the desk. "You and Julian didn't just steal thirty million dollars from the corporate reserve. You committed murder by proxy to get my mother’s thirty percent stake in the firm."
"Be careful, Rebecca," Beatrice warned, her tone sharpening into a threat. "You are sitting alone in a quiet house, holding papers that don't belong to you. My men can have those files burned in the incinerator downstairs before sunrise, and no one would ever know you were anything more than a grieving, unstable widow."
I smiled. It was a cold, terrifying expression that made Beatrice take half a step backward.
"Do you really think I came back to this house alone?" I asked gently.
I tapped my desktop screen twice.
A moment later, the desk speaker crackled to life.
"We have a full audio and visual feed, Miss Sterling," Arthur Sterling’s voice boomed into the room. Arthur, my grandfather’s former chief counsel and current chairman of the board, wasn't just listening; he was sitting in his Manhattan office with two senior partners from the District Attorney's Financial Crimes Unit. "Every word your aunt has spoken for the last three minutes has been recorded on our secure cloud server."
Beatrice turned toward the door, her eyes wide with sudden, absolute panic. "What?!"
"Furthermore," Arthur continued, "officers from the Greenwich Police Department are currently turning into your driveway, Beatrice. I suggest you tell your security guards to drop their weapons."
The sound of blaring sirens echoed through the rain outside, red and blue lights flashing against the tall windows of the study.
Beatrice looked at me, her hands trembling as she clutched her pearl necklace. "Rebecca... we're family. Vance & Sterling is your legacy! If you blow this open, the stock will collapse! The firm will be ruined!"
"The firm survived my grandfather’s death, Beatrice," I said, standing up and picking up the USB drive and the ledger. "It will survive your arrest."
Two uniformed police officers burst into the study, firearms drawn.
"Beatrice Sterling?" the lead officer called out. "You are under arrest for breaking and entering, obstruction of justice, and conspiracy."
May you like
As the officers snapped the handcuffs onto my aunt's wrists, she turned her head to look at me one last time, her voice cracking with fury. "Julian won't let you win, Rebecca! You think you've caught him? You have no idea who he really works for!"
"I don't need to know who he works for," I whispered as she was led down the hall. "Because before the sun sets tomorrow, I will own everything he ever touched."
