Chapter 9 - Unraveling the Web
The next three months were a tempest of state investigators, grand jury testimonies, and international forensic audits.
The investigation uncovered horrors far deeper than Evan and I had ever imagined.
State forensic teams exhumed our father’s body from the family plot. Toxicology reports confirmed what Dad’s hidden tape had claimed: lethal levels of synthetic cardiac glycosides, systematically administered over a six-month period.
The body in the mahogany casket was formally identified as Julian Vance, a 31-year-old former veteran who had fallen on hard times. Travis had lured him from a local shelter with the promise of hot food and temporary work, only to murder him in cold blood to forge Evan’s death.
The shell companies in the Cayman Islands were unraveled by the FBI’s financial crimes unit. Eleanor and Travis had emptied over twelve million dollars from the family estate over the preceding five years, funding offshore real estate ventures that were failing rapidly—which was why they needed the final fifty-million-dollar life insurance payout on Evan to avoid total bankruptcy.
In November, the trial concluded.
Eleanor Vane was sentenced to two life terms without the possibility of parole for the first-degree murder of Edward Vane Sr. and conspiracy to commit murder against her own sons.
Travis received life without parole for the murder of Julian Vance and attempted murder of Evan Vane.
The day after the sentencing, Evan and I stood outside the state courthouse in the pale autumn sunlight.
The media circus had finally packed up their satellite vans. For the first time in four months, the air felt clear enough to breathe.
"Where are you going now?" I asked Evan, leaning against the granite balustrade.
Evan adjusted the collar of his coat. His facial injuries had healed into a thin, faint scar along his jawline—the only remaining physical mark of the night he almost died.
"Julian Vance's family... his sister came from Ohio for the sentencing," Evan said quietly. "Dad left us the core trust. I'm using my half to set up a permanent foundation for homeless veterans in Julian's name. It's the only way to make that grave mean something real."
I smiled, putting a hand on my brother's shoulder. "Dad would have liked that."
"What about you?" Evan asked, looking at me. "What are you going to do with the estate?"
May you like
I pulled a heavy brass key from my pocket—the key to the front door of the glass mansion on the cliff.
"I signed the papers this morning," I said. "I'm knocking the house down. Next spring, we plant an oak forest on the ridge."
