Chapter 6 - The Glass House
The Vane family estate sat on a lonely cliff overlooking the rocky shores of Lake Superior. Built out of dark granite and floor-to-ceiling structural glass, it looked less like a home and more like a fortress designed to look down on the rest of the world.
By 5:30 AM, the storm had passed, leaving behind a cold, gray fog that hung low over the manicured lawns.
Detective Miller parked her unmarked sedan two hundred yards down the drive, shielded by a stand of wet birch trees.
"We wait for my backup," Miller instructed, checking her service weapon. "I have two trusted officers sweeping the rear perimeter. Once we have eyes on Travis, we move."
"We can't wait," Evan whispered, staring through binoculars at the floor-to-ceiling windows of the second-story study. "Look."
Inside the illuminated study, our mother was sitting at Dad's mahogany desk. She was dressed in a pristine white silk blouse, calmly sipping tea while a man in a dark suit—a corporate lawyer— laid out a thick stack of legal documents before her.
Standing beside the desk was Travis. But he wasn't looking at the papers. He was holding a sleek silver briefcase, checking his watch impatiently.
"They're executing the emergency incapacitated-clause filing right now," I said. "If that lawyer leaves this house with those signed documents, the court clerk will stamp them the second the building opens at 8:00 AM."
I didn't wait for Miller. I slipped out of the passenger door and into the wet grass, keeping low.
"Liam, wait!" Miller hissed, but I was already moving. Evan was right behind me, his limp forgotten under the surge of pure adrenaline.
We reached the glass side terrace. The heavy sliding door was unlocked—Travis was expecting his courier to arrive at any minute.
We stepped into the warmth of the lower living room. The house smelled of expensive cedar perfume, lemon oil, and old smoke.
From the top of the floating glass staircase, Travis's voice floated down, sharp and dismissive.
"Just sign the signature line for Liam under the surrogate proxy, Aunt Eleanor. The judge is already paid off. He'll sign the incapacitation order by nine."
"I want it done right, Travis," our mother's voice replied—calm, sweet, and entirely devoid of emotion. "I don't want any legal loose ends like last time. Edward’s brother almost caused a mess with the probate court six years ago."
"Edward’s brother isn't here," Travis sneered. "And neither are her precious twins. Evan is fish food, and Liam is hiding in some ditch like a dog."
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"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Travis," I said.
I stepped out onto the upper landing at the top of the stairs.
