Chapter 6 - The Storm Gathers
The news of my sudden corporate aggressive takeover of Saint Jude’s Board of Trustees sent shockwaves through the city's financial circles.
Within forty-eight hours, I had acquired sixty percent of the academy’s voting shares, effectively stripping Julian Vance of his headmaster title and converting the school into a fully funded merit-based institution.
Julian was beyond furious.
On a rainy Thursday afternoon, while Marcus was recovering at his grandmother's house and Eva was painting in the conservatory, a black luxury sedan tore up my driveway, spraying gravel across the lawn.
Julian Vance stormed out of the car, slamming the door so hard the glass rattled. He pushed past Garrison at the door and burst straight into my main study.
"Carter!" Julian roared, his face purple with rage. "Are you completely insane?! You bought out my family's legacy school just to spite me?!"
I didn't get up from my mahogany desk. I calmly set down my pen and looked at him. "I didn't do it to spite you, Julian. I did it to clean house. You used your position to torment a child."
"He is MY family!" Julian screamed, leaning over my desk, his knuckles white. "You have no right to interfere in Vance family affairs! Do you know what people are saying? They're saying you've lost your mind over that silent daughter of yours! They're saying you're letting a street beggar manipulate you out of millions!"
"Watch your tongue, Julian," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"No, YOU watch yourself, Henry!" Julian sneered, pulling a thick Manila envelope from his coat and throwing it onto my desk. "You think that boy is a saint? You think he sat on your porch out of the goodness of his heart? Take a look at those!"
I frowned, looking down at the envelope. "What is this?"
"Private investigator reports," Julian said with a venomous grin. "Marcus didn't accidentally find that broken fence in your creek, Henry. His grandmother’s house on the east side sits right on the edge of the new commercial transit corridor your firm is building. If your transit line goes through, her property gets condemned for pennies. He came to your estate three weeks ago to find a way to blackmail you or earn your favor to save his grandmother's house!"
My heart sank into a cold, dark pit. I looked at the envelope, my hand hesitating above the clasp.
"Open it!" Julian taunted, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph. "See for yourself! The boy is a scheming opportunist who used your daughter's condition as a golden ticket!"
Before I could open the envelope, the door of the study swung open.
Eva stood in the doorway, holding a tray with two tea cups Mrs. Gable had helped her prepare. She looked at Julian, then at the Manila envelope on my desk, her eyes wide with sudden fear.
"Daddy?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Is Marcus in trouble?"
Julian turned to her, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Your little friend is a liar, little girl. He only came here for money."
"GET OUT!" I roared, standing up so fast my heavy leather chair crashed backward into the wall.
Julian stepped back, startled by the sheer violence of my reaction.
"Get off my property, Julian," I growled, pointing a finger at his chest, every muscle in my body shaking with rage. "If you ever step foot on this land again, or speak to my daughter like that, I will use every dollar I possess to ruin you until you're begging on the streets."
Julian glared at me, swallowed hard, and backed out of the room, muttering curses under his breath.
I stood behind my desk, breathing heavily. I looked down at the Manila envelope.
Eva walked slowly into the room, setting the tea tray down on a side table. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with an unbearable sadness.
"Is it true, Daddy?" she whispered softly. "Did Marcus only come here because he wanted to save his house?"
I looked at my daughter—the girl who had just regained her voice, standing on the brink of losing her faith in the world all over again.
I grabbed the Manila envelope, pulled out my desk lighter, and set the entire file on fire right over the marble ash tray.
"No, sweetheart," I said, watching the paper curl into black ash. "Marcus came here because you were waiting for him. Now come here."
May you like
Eva ran into my arms, burying her face into my chest. I held her tight, but as I looked out the rain-slicked window toward the east side of the city, a cold doubt lingered in the back of my mind.
I needed to see Clara Vance. I needed to know the absolute truth.
