Chapter 5 - Counter-Strike
The whisper that rippled through the chapel sounded like a swarm of angry hornets.
Board members leaned into one another, their eyes widening in shock.
Julian’s face turned an ashen gray, but he didn't surrender easily.
A man who had spent two decades manipulating the corporate world did not fold after a single strike.
"That is legally absurd, Senator," Julian said, his voice rising, fighting to project authority across the chapel.
"My mother suffered three catastrophic ischemic strokes over the last twenty-four months."
"She was clinically declared incompetent by her attending physicians at Manhattan General."
Harold Finch immediately stepped up beside his employer, pulling a notarized medical file from his leather briefcase.
"The senator is referring to an invalid instrument," Finch announced loudly to the assembled board members.
"We have certified medical declarations signed by Dr. Robert Vance, Julian’s second cousin."
"Eleanor Vance suffered from severe vascular dementia and had lost all testamentary capacity eighteen months ago."
"Any document she executed recently is void under New York state probate law."
"Furthermore, we have filed an emergency petition for an ex-parte injunction against Clara Vance for elder abuse and undue influence."
A gasp swept through the rear pews.
I looked at Harold Finch, then at Julian.
They were willing to drag the memory of Julian's own mother through the mud, branding her insane just to cling to her fortune.
"An injunction?" I asked, stepping into the aisle beside Senator Sterling.
"On what grounds, Harold?"
Finch smiled with triumphant cruelty.
"On the grounds that you isolated a mentally incapacitated woman from her devoted son."
"On the grounds that you coerced her into signing fraudulent trusts while Julian was overseas securing corporate capital."
"Judge Miller signed the order thirty minutes ago, Clara."
"All bank accounts, safety deposit boxes, and assets under Eleanor Vance’s name are immediately locked under court-appointed interim receivership."
"And the court has appointed Julian as the temporary fiduciary conservator."
Chloe let out a breathy, delighted laugh from the front pew.
She touched her hair, her confidence flooding back in an instant.
Julian looked down at me, his lip curling into a smirk of pure, undiluted malice.
"You thought you were clever, Clara," Julian whispered, leaning in close once more.
"You thought a little silver key and some dusty ledgers were going to take down a multi-million-dollar empire?"
"You have twenty-four hours to pack your clothes and get out of my penthouse."
"If you take so much as a silver spoon, I will have the NYPD arrest you for grand larceny."
"Take a cab to a motel, Clara."
"Because by tomorrow afternoon, Vance Industries will be sold to the Apex Global Consortium, the shares will be liquidated, and you will be completely erased."
The crowd watched in breathless silence as Julian turned his back on me and walked toward the pulpit to begin his eulogy.
I stood completely motionless in the center aisle.
My phone vibrated against my ribcage inside my coat.
A text message appeared on the screen from a secure, unlisted number that Eleanor had made me memorize years ago.
The medical affidavits are forged. Check the basement wine cellar behind the third cask. The key opens the false brick.
I looked up at Julian, who was now weeping crocodile tears over his mother's closed mahogany casket.
May you like
I didn't say another word.
I turned around, walked out of the chapel, and headed straight into the belly of the beast.
