Chapter 3 - Bloodlines and Lies
Z
The main hall of the funeral parlor was dead silent, save for the heavy, rhythmically clicking heels of a man walking past the rows of polished mahogany pews. He wore a tailored dark charcoal suit that screamed power and detachment, contrasted sharply with the jagged scar running from his jawline down to his collar. Behind him stood two muscular men in tactical black suits, their hands resting comfortably near their belts.
"Sarah Miller? Claire Miller?" the man asked, his voice smooth as velvet and cold as ice. He didn't even glance at the casket lying open beneath the floral arrangements at the front of the room.
"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, stepping out of the side room with Claire right behind me. "This is a private funeral. You have no right to be here."
The man smiled, pulling a folded sheath of legal documents from his inner coat pocket. "My name is Julian Vance. Son of Marcus Vance. And as far as rights go, Miss Miller, this entire building—and the land your mother's estate claims to own—is currently under federal lien due to a civil judgment filed against Evelyn Miller in the state of Illinois twenty-two years ago."
Claire stepped forward, her body tense, her eyes burning with corporate defiance. "Evelyn Miller died yesterday morning. Any civil action against her estate has to go through probate court. You can't just walk into a funeral and serve papers like a thug!"
Julian turned his sharp gray eyes onto Claire, assessing her with a chilling amusement. "Ah, the sharp city lawyer. Claire, isn't it? Or should I call you Claire Miller-Vance?"
The room seemed to drop ten degrees. Claire froze, her breath catching in her throat. "What did you just call me?"
Julian chuckled softly, tossing the thick blue envelope onto a velvet-covered table near the guest register. "Your mother didn't just borrow money from my father to clear your deadbeat dad's debts, Claire. She made a bargain. Your biological mother, June, was my father's sister. That makes you my first cousin. And more importantly, it makes you the rightful heir to twenty-five percent of Vance Financial Group—a share your mother Evelyn fraudulently concealed by forging adoption records and filing false birth certificates across state lines."
I felt the ground slide out from beneath my feet. I grabbed the edge of a pew to steady myself, my mind reeling in utter disbelief. "Claire... cousin? You're... you're Vance's family?"
"She didn't know," Ruth whispered from behind us, stepping into the dim light of the chapel. "Evelyn never told Claire who her real father was. She told June that if the Vance family ever found out about the baby, Marcus would use the child as leverage in his illegal operations."
Julian’s smile vanished, replaced by a dark, dangerous intensity. "My father was no saint, old woman, but Evelyn Miller was a thief. She didn't save Claire from a crime family. She kidnapped an heir to protect her own miserable, crumbling marriage! She stole a child so her husband wouldn't leave her for a younger woman!"
"That's a lie!" I screamed, stepping between Julian and Claire. "My mother loved us! She sacrificed everything for us!"
"Did she?" Julian sneered, stepping closer until I could smell the faint scent of expensive cologne and tobacco on him. "Ask your sister why she really came back, Sarah. Ask her why she was checking offshore bank accounts in Grand Cayman under Evelyn’s name three days before your mother took her last breath."
I whirled around to look at Claire. Her face had drained of all color. She couldn't meet my eyes.
"Claire..." I whispered, my heart breaking all over again. "Tell me he’s lying. Tell me you didn't..."
"Sarah, listen to me," Claire pleaded, her voice trembling as she took a step back, her hands raised in defense. "I found an account linked to Mom's social security number. It had over two million dollars in it! Two million dollars, Sarah! While you were struggling to pay for her chemotherapy, while we were maxing out credit cards to buy her pain medication, she was sitting on a fortune!"
"Two million dollars?" I repeated, the words tasting like poison on my tongue. "Mom spent her last months crying because we couldn't afford the home care nurse! I worked sixteen-hour shifts at the bakery! I didn't sleep for months! And she had two million dollars?!"
"It wasn't her money," Julian interrupted coldly. "It was stolen from Vance Holdings. Money Evelyn siphoned off through small-town shell accounts over two decades. And now that she’s dead, the full amount is due. Plus interest."
Julian signaled to his two men. They immediately stepped toward the front of the chapel, moving directly toward my mother’s coffin.
"What are you doing?!" I shrieked, sprinting forward to block them. "Leave her alone! She’s dead!"
"The court order allows us to secure all personal property on or within the estate until an asset search is completed," Julian said smoothly, showing no emotion whatsoever. "That includes high-value jewelry, personal effects, and any physical documentation buried with the deceased. Move aside, Miss Miller, or my men will have local law enforcement remove you for obstructing a court-ordered asset seizure."
"You can't do this!" Claire yelled, lunging toward one of the men, but he easily shoved her back onto a pew.
I grabbed a heavy brass candlestick from the altar rail and raised it above my head, my knuckles turning white. "Touch that casket and I swear to God I will crack your skull open!"
Julian stopped, looking at me with a dangerous spark of respect in his eyes. "You have your mother's spine, Sarah. A pity she spent it all on lies. You have twenty-four hours to produce the original ledger Evelyn kept—the one detailing where the rest of the missing eight million dollars is hidden. If you don't hand it over by tomorrow night, I won't just take the house. I'll make sure your mother's memory is dragged through every federal court in the country, and your precious little sister will spend the rest of her life in a federal penitentiary for grand larceny and wire fraud."
May you like
Julian turned on his heel and walked toward the exit, his men falling in behind him. At the door, he paused and looked back at us over his shoulder.
"Oh, and Sarah?" Julian added with a cold, mocking smile. "Check under the floorboards in your mother’s sewing room. You might find out why your father really left."
