Chapter 6 - The Ghost of Sterling & Vance
I stood behind the chained door, my mind fracturing into a thousand conflicting pieces.
Clara Vance died of leukemia when she was seven years old. Eleanor had shown me the photograph. She had wept telling me the story.
"Sal," the woman whispered through the three-inch gap in the door. Her voice was trembling, her face pale beneath the yellow streetlight. "Please. You have to let me in. If Arthur’s men see me here, they'll kill me."
I unhooked the chain and pulled the door open. "Who are you?"
She slipped inside fast, her wet raincoat dripping onto the hardwood floor. She pushed back her hair, her green eyes wide with terror.
"My name is Clara," she said, her breath coming in ragged hitches. "I am Eleanor’s daughter."
"Eleanor’s daughter died thirty years ago," I said, keeping the fireplace poker held firmly at my side. "I saw the obituary files in the archive."
"It was a lie!" Clara cried out, her voice cracking. "It was a story invented by Arthur Sterling and my uncle Richard thirty years ago!"
I pointed to the sofa. "Sit down. Speak quietly. My son is sleeping upstairs."
Clara sat on the edge of the cushion, her hands shaking so violently she had to lace her fingers together.
"When I was seven," Clara began, her eyes glistening with tears, "I didn't have leukemia. I had a rare autoimmune disorder. My mother, Eleanor, was so consumed by the company after my father died that she left my medical care entirely in the hands of Richard and Arthur."
She swallowed hard, looking up at me.
"Arthur didn't want Eleanor to have an heir," Clara continued. "If Eleanor had a child to leave the empire to, Arthur and Richard would never be able to wrest control of the firm. So they bribed the doctors. They told my mother I died during a experimental trial in Switzerland. They forged the death certificates. They paid off the hospital."
"And where were you?" I asked, horror settling deep into my stomach.
"They sent me to an isolated boarding school in rural France under a false name," Clara said, a bitter tear rolling down her cheek. "I was told my mother abandoned me. I was told she didn't want a sick child. I grew up believing my mother hated me."
"How did you find out the truth?"
"Six months ago, Richard Vance suffered his stroke," Clara explained. "Before he died, his conscience broke. He sent a lawyer to France with a recorded confession, a ledger of the bank accounts used to pay off my school, and my real birth certificate."
She reached into her coat pocket, pulling out an old, yellowed document and a USB drive.
"I came back to America two weeks ago," Clara whispered. "I was going to walk into her office and confront her. But then I saw what Arthur was doing. I realized that if I came forward publicly while Arthur was still in power, he would make sure I really died this time."
I sat in the armchair opposite her, my mind spinning.
The depth of the evil inside Sterling & Vance was breathtaking. It wasn't just corporate fraud. It wasn't just stolen millions. They had ripped a grieving mother’s child away from her to steal a financial empire.
"Why come to me?" I asked softly.
"Because I watched the news," Clara said, looking at me with intense desperation. "I saw you standing beside my mother at the press conference after Arthur was arrested. I saw the way she looked at you—like she trusted you. She doesn't trust anyone else, Sal. If I walk up to her estate, Arthur’s security will intercept me. You are the only person who can bring me to her safely."
I looked toward the staircase leading to Leo’s room.
May you like
Danger was no longer knocking on my door. It was sitting in my living room.
"Alright," I said quietly. "We go to Eleanor’s estate at dawn."
