Chapter 4
Z
The elevator doors split open, revealing Victoria Vance standing in the glass lobby of the executive floor. She was no longer wearing the disgraced emerald gown from the night before. Instead, she was clad in a sharp, tailored black power suit, her hair slicked back, her red lipstick applied like war paint.
Flanking her were two high-powered corporate defense attorneys from Manhattan’s most expensive law firm, along with a process server holding a thick stack of legal documents tied with a red ribbon.
The media was waiting downstairs, blocked by security, but the tension on the floor was palpable. Staff members peeked out from behind office doors, terrified of the impending explosion.
“Daniel,” Victoria said, her voice smooth, dripping with artificial composure. She stepped into my office, her high heels clicking loudly against the hardwood floor. She didn't look like a woman who had spent the night in a police holding cell. She looked re-energized, fueled by a toxic mix of venom and powerful backing.
“You look surprised to see me, son,” she sneered.
“I’m surprised you didn't take the first private flight to a country without an extradition treaty,” I replied, sitting back down at my desk without offering her a seat. “Who paid your bail, Victoria? Was it Uncle Julian?”
The moment the name left my lips, the artificial confidence in her eyes flickered. Her attorneys exchanged a quick, subtle glance.
“I don't know what insane conspiracy theories you’ve been cooking up with your common wife,” Victoria said coldly, recovering quickly. “I’m here on official business. You had me arrested on false charges, humiliated me in front of my peers, and stole my home. But you forgot one simple fact: I am still the named beneficiary of the Vance Family Trust Estate.”
The lead attorney step forward, dropping the heavy stack of documents onto my desk.
“Mr. Vance,” the lawyer began, his tone cold and bureaucratic. “I am Harrison Croft of Croft & Associates. We have filed an emergency injunction in the New York Supreme Court contesting the validity of the trust amendment you presented last night. Furthermore, Mrs. Vance is filing a civil lawsuit against you and your wife, Elena Vance, for defamation, wrongful eviction, and intentional infliction of emotional distress.”
I didn't even look at the papers. “On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that your father was of unsound mind when he signed the amendment five years ago,” Croft stated smoothly. “We have medical records indicating early-stage cognitive decline dating back to that period. Therefore, the voting rights transfer is legally null and void. Until a court-appointed trustee reviews the estate, all company assets, including this building and your residence, are frozen.”
It was a masterclass in legal warfare. They didn't need to win the lawsuit immediately; they just needed to paralyze me. By freezing the assets, they could choke off my operational control of Vance Global, forcing the board to appoint an interim manager—which Croft’s firm would undoubtedly lobby to be someone under Julian’s control.
“Cognitive decline?” I let out a sharp, cold laugh. “My father ran a multi-billion-dollar acquisition four years ago with zero errors. You’re fabricating medical evidence.”
“Let the judge decide that,” Victoria said, taking a step toward my desk, leaning down until her face was inches from mine. Her breath smelled of bitter espresso. “You thought you were clever, Daniel. You thought because you spent years playing forensic accountant that you could outsmart me. But you are weak. You let your heart guide you. You chose that pregnant servant over your own mother, and now I am going to take every single dollar your father left you.”
I looked at her, searching for any trace of the mother who used to read to me when I was a child. There was nothing left. She had been completely consumed by greed and bitterness.
“Where is Lucas?” I asked quietly.
Victoria’s posture stiffened. “He is currently in medical custody at the precinct. He suffered an anxiety attack due to your brutal treatment of him.”
“He’s in a holding cell because he’s a thief,” I countered. “And as for you, Victoria... you think this lawsuit freezes me? You think you’ve backed me into a corner?”
I reached under my desk and pressed the intercom button. “Priya, bring them in.”
The side door to my office opened. Two men in dark suits stepped in, followed by Priya Shah and a woman in her late fifties dressed in a sharp navy blazer.
Victoria turned around, her smile faltering as she recognized the woman.
“Judge Evelyn Vance-Cross,” Harrison Croft muttered, his legal composure slipping for the first time.
Evelyn was my father’s younger sister—a federal circuit judge who had severed ties with Victoria years ago after recognizing her toxic influence over the family. Evelyn had stayed out of corporate affairs for a decade, but she held one crucial title: she was the named protector of the Vance Family Foundation, the philanthropic wing that held twenty percent of the company’s non-voting shares.
“Hello, Victoria,” Evelyn said, her voice dropping like an iron gavel. “I see you’re still trying to destroy everything my brother built.”
“Evelyn...” Victoria stammered, her hands trembling slightly as she smoothed her jacket. “This is a corporate matter. You have no jurisdiction here.”
“I don't need jurisdiction to exercise my statutory duty as trust protector, Victoria,” Evelyn replied calmly, stepping up to the desk and placing a certified legal decree beside Croft’s frivolous lawsuit. “Under federal financial regulations, when an estate beneficiary is formally indicted for felony grand larceny involving estate assets, their rights to contest trust amendments are automatically suspended pending criminal trial.”
Croft grabbed the document, reading it furiously. “This... this requires a formal indictment from the District Attorney!”
“Which was handed down thirty minutes ago,” Evelyn said with a cold, triumphant smile. “The District Attorney’s office just unsealed the grand jury indictment against Victoria and Lucas Vance for wire fraud and money laundering. The evidence provided by Daniel’s forensic audit was... overwhelmingly conclusive.”
Victoria staggered back, clutching her chest. “No... no! That’s impossible! I am Jonathan’s widow!”
“You are a criminal defendant,” I said, standing up and pulling the chair out from behind my desk. “And as of right now, your security clearance to this building, your access to any family accounts, and your occupancy rights to the family mansion are permanently revoked.”
I looked at the two uniformed court officers standing behind Evelyn. “Escort Mrs. Vance off the premises. If she sets foot on Vance Global property again, have her arrested for criminal trespassing.”
“Daniel!” Victoria screamed as the officers grabbed her arms, pulling her backward out of the office. Her composure completely vanished, replaced by wild, unhinged rage. “You can’t do this to me! I made you! I built this family! You will rot in hell for this, Daniel! Do you hear me? Julian will rip everything away from you! He’s going to take your baby! He’s going to take everything!”
Her screams echoed down the long glass hallway as she was dragged toward the elevators. Harrison Croft hastily gathered his papers, gave me a terrified look, and fled after his client.
Silence descended over the room.
Evelyn turned to me, her eyes filled with sadness and concern. “She’s out of her mind, Daniel. But what she said about Julian... it’s true. He’s back in the city. I saw his primary legal counsel at the courthouse this morning.”
I leaned against my desk, rubbing my temples. The battle with my mother was over, but the war was just beginning.
“Where is he staying, Aunt Evelyn?” I asked.
“The Plaza,” she replied softly. “And Daniel... he’s already made contact with someone else in your life.”
My heart stopped. My hand reached for my phone on the desk.
“Elena,” I breathed out.
I dialed her number instantly. The line rang once. Twice. Three times.
Then it went straight to voicemail.
May you like
Panic spiked through my blood like liquid fire. I didn't say another word to Evelyn or Priya. I threw open my office door and ran straight for the private elevator, praying to God that I wasn't already too late.
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