Chapter 8 - THE TRUST
The following morning, attorney Rachel Sloan arrived at St. Matthew's Hospital carrying a sealed leather folder.
She was in her sixties.
Calm.
Precise.
And clearly unimpressed by the Vance name.
“My former partner, Charles Mercer, represented William Vance.”
Michael gestured toward the folder.
“What is that?”
“A codicil to your grandfather's trust.”
Sarah sat upright.
“Why was it never used?”
“Because the condition that activated it never occurred.”
Rachel looked at Sarah.
“Until now.”
Michael frowned.
“What condition?”
“The birth of Jonathan Vance's first living biological grandchild.”
Silence filled the room.
Sarah looked toward the NICU.
“Grace.”
Rachel nodded.
“Grace.”
Michael's face changed.
“So that's what Eleanor meant.”
Rachel opened the folder.
“William Vance learned shortly before his death that Jonathan may have fathered a child outside marriage.”
“He did not know the mother's identity.”
“He created a confidential provision.”
“If Jonathan had a biological child, and that child later had a child of their own, control of a protected family trust would pass down Jonathan's biological line.”
Sarah stared at her.
“How much?”
Rachel paused.
“Assets currently valued at approximately one hundred and eighty million dollars.”
Sarah stopped breathing.
Michael whispered.
“Jesus.”
Rachel continued.
“More importantly, the trust holds eleven percent of Vance Industries voting stock.”
Michael understood immediately.
“That block decides control of the company.”
“Yes.”
Sarah looked at him.
“Who controls the company now?”
“My mother controls six percent personally.”
“My cousin Daniel controls seventeen.”
“I control twenty-one.”
“Other family trusts and public shareholders hold the rest.”
Rachel nodded.
“With Grace's trust, Sarah would exercise voting authority until Grace reaches thirty.”
Sarah stared at her.
“I don't want the company.”
“This isn't about what you want.”
Rachel's tone softened.
“It is about what Eleanor feared.”
Michael looked at Sarah.
“If Grace's birth proves you're Jonathan's daughter…”
“Eleanor loses the balance of power.”
Rachel shook her head.
“Worse.”
“An independent audit is automatically triggered when the trust activates.”
Michael frowned.
“An audit of what?”
“All transfers made from Jonathan's estate after his death.”
Thomas, standing near the window, went pale.
Michael noticed.
“What?”
Thomas swallowed.
“After Jonathan died, a lot of his assets moved.”
“To whom?”
“Samuel.”
Michael's face tightened.
Rachel opened another document.
“According to what Mercer suspected, approximately forty-two million dollars in assets originally intended for Jonathan's descendants were absorbed into other Vance holdings.”
Sarah whispered.
“Stolen.”
“Possibly.”
Michael looked toward the door.
“And Eleanor knew the audit would expose it.”
Rachel nodded.
“She had strong reason to fear Grace being born.”
Sarah felt sick.
“She pushed me down a staircase over money.”
Michael shook his head.
“Not just money.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Samuel killed Jonathan.”
“If the audit uncovers what Samuel did afterward, it could prove Eleanor helped cover up the death.”
Detective Ortiz entered.
“You're right.”
She placed several photographs on the table.
“We searched Eleanor's office.”
One photograph showed a metal filing cabinet hidden behind a false wall.
Another showed ledgers.
The final photograph showed a burned document inside the fireplace.
Ortiz continued.
“She tried to destroy financial records before leaving the mansion.”
Rachel examined the photographs.
“This is enough to freeze trust-related assets.”
Michael looked at Ortiz.
“What has my mother said?”
“Almost nothing.”
“She asked for an attorney.”
“Then she made one statement.”
Sarah's hand tightened around Michael's.
“What?”
Ortiz looked at them both.
“She said Samuel Vance is alive.”
Michael stood.
“My father died twenty-three years ago.”
“That is what the death certificate says.”
Thomas suddenly sat down.
Michael turned toward him.
“You know.”
Thomas looked devastated.
“No.”
“But you suspect something.”
Thomas stared at the floor.
“The night Samuel supposedly died, Eleanor wouldn't let anyone view the body.”
Michael remembered the funeral.
Closed casket.
His mother crying.
A six-year-old boy told his father had gone to heaven.
Ortiz continued.
“We're reopening Samuel Vance's death investigation.”
Michael's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Michael Vance?”
The man's voice was old.
Rough.
Unfamiliar.
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then.
“I hear you finally opened the nursery.”
Michael's face drained of color.
“Who is this?”
May you like
The man laughed softly.
“You used to call me Dad.”
