Chapter 8 - SOMEONE STOLE THE DOCUMENTS THAT COULD GIVE ME $300 MILLION—THEN MY OWN BROTHER WAS ARRESTED FOR THE THEFTJulian was eighteen.
My brother.
Not Julian Caldwell.
Julian Dominic Vale.
Named partly for the man who had helped expose our grandfather.
He was also an idiot.
A lovable idiot.
But an idiot.
So when police found him two blocks from Vale House with one of the stolen folders in his backpack, my first thought was:
Of course.
My second:
Absolutely not.
Julian sat in the police interview room looking furious.
Dad stood outside.
Mom beside him.
The detective said:
“We found property from the scene.”
Dad asked:
“Can I speak to my son?”
“After processing.”
Dad nodded.
No threats.
No phone call to powerful friends.
No “Do you know who I am?”
I watched him.
Sometimes growth is boring.
That's why it is believable.
Julian eventually emerged.
“Viv.”
“What happened?”
“I didn't steal anything.”
“Then why was it in your backpack?”
“A girl gave it to me.”
I stared.
Dad closed his eyes.
Mom whispered:
“Oh, Julian.”
“What?”
My brother looked offended.
“She said she found it outside.”
“Name?”
“Lily.”
“Last name?”
Pause.
“Julian.”
“Bennett.”
I froze.
“Maya Bennett?”
He frowned.
“You know her mom?”
The pearl-gray dress.
The scholarship recipient.
The future lawyer.
Mom had met Maya years earlier.
Apparently Maya had a daughter.
Lily Bennett.
“Why were you with her?”
Julian looked at Dad.
“Can we not?”
Dad stared.
Julian sighed.
“We're dating.”
Mom smiled.
Dad did not.
“Since when?”
“Four months.”
“Four—”
Mom touched Dad's arm.
He stopped.
Expensive therapy.
I asked:
“Where's Lily?”
Julian's expression changed.
“I don't know.”
The humor disappeared.
“She texted me to meet her near Vale House.”
“Why?”
“She said she'd found something about her mother.”
“What?”
“The dress.”
Mom frowned.
“What about it?”
“She said someone had been following Maya asking where the dress came from.”
The dress again.
Pearl-gray silk.
Mom's stolen dress.
Maya's scholarship dress.
An object that had passed through decades.
Why would anyone care?
Then Evelyn spoke behind us.
“Because something was sewn inside it.”
Mom turned.
“What?”
Evelyn looked sick.
“Julian Caldwell didn't only hide evidence in walls.”
Serena arrived twenty minutes later.
She confirmed it.
Her father had used clothing.
Frames.
Furniture.
Anything Arthur's men wouldn't immediately destroy.
“Do you know what was in the dress?”
“No.”
Mom whispered:
“I donated it.”
“Yes.”
“And Maya kept it for years.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
Nobody knew.
We called Maya.
No answer.
Then Lily called Julian.
He answered instantly.
“Where are you?”
She was crying.
“Julian.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I can't tell you.”
Dad held out his hand.
Julian shook his head.
My father lowered it.
Good.
“Lily,” Julian said, “you need to tell me.”
“They have my mom.”
Everything stopped.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Where?”
“They want the dress.”
Mom whispered:
“The dress was donated again.”
Lily heard.
“I know.”
“I tracked it.”
Mom stepped closer.
“Where is it?”
“A nonprofit in Newark.”
“Do they still have it?”
“No.”
“Who does?”
Lily took a shaky breath.
“A seventeen-year-old girl named Ana Morales.”
History repeating.
A young woman wearing that dress to enter rooms designed to make her feel small.
Mom's face hardened.
“No.”
Dad looked at her.
“What?”
“They don't get to drag another girl into this.”
Lily said:
“They already did.”
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“Ana disappeared this morning.”
Dad turned to security.
“Call police.”
Evelyn said:
“Wait.”
Everyone looked at her.
“If the people behind this believe the dress contains evidence, they'll destroy it once they find what they need.”
Dad nodded.
“And hurt anyone in the way.”
Mom looked at him.
“What are you thinking?”
Dad paused.
Then:
“I want to coordinate with law enforcement.”
Mom smiled faintly.
Dad sighed.
“Please stop looking proud every time I behave legally.”
“I can't help it.”
The investigation moved quickly.
Maya was found first.
Alive.
Locked inside an empty office owned by a shell corporation.
The corporation traced back to—
Claire Vale.
My aunt.
Dad's younger sister.
No.
Dad refused immediately.
“Claire didn't do this.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“Because I know my sister.”
“You didn't know me.”
That landed.
Dad didn't retaliate.
“Fair.”
Claire arrived from Boston furious.
“I haven't used that corporation in fifteen years.”
“Why does it exist?”
“Arthur created it.”
Of course.
Everything led back to him.
Except Arthur was still in federal prison.
Old.
Ill.
But alive.
Dad visited him.
Mom went too.
Not because Dad needed supervision.
Because partnership.
I wasn't allowed.
I went anyway.
Nobody was surprised.
Arthur Vale looked smaller than the monster in family stories.
That disturbed me.
We want monsters to look like monsters.
Usually they look like old men.
Dad sat across from him.
Arthur smiled.
“Dominic.”
“Who is using the old holding companies?”
Arthur's smile widened.
“So you finally found Evelyn.”
Dad went still.
“You knew she was alive.”
“Of course.”
“You left her.”
“She wasn't useful.”
I saw my father's hand tighten.
Mom placed hers on the table.
Not touching him.
Available.
Dad looked at it.
Then relaxed.
“Who is using the companies?”
Arthur looked at me.
“Vivienne.”
I hated hearing my name in his mouth.
“You look like your grandmother.”
I said nothing.
He smiled.
“Do you know why I chose you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“You thought Dad would control me.”
Arthur laughed.
“He will.”
Dad said:
“No.”
Arthur ignored him.
“You'll learn.”
I leaned forward.
“Learn what?”
“That families survive through obedience.”
Mom laughed.
Actually laughed.
Arthur looked offended.
She said:
“Sorry.”
Then laughed again.
“You built your final plan around Dominic demanding obedience from his daughter?”
“Yes.”
Mom wiped her eyes.
“That's unfortunate.”
Arthur stared.
Dad almost smiled.
Then Arthur said:
“You think he's changed?”
Mom stopped laughing.
“Yes.”
“People don't change.”
Evelyn had said the same.
Mom answered the same way.
“Then you've wasted your entire life misunderstanding people.”
Arthur's smile disappeared.
Dad asked again:
“Who has the shell companies?”
Arthur leaned back.
“My son.”
Dad froze.
Claire wasn't a son.
Dad was sitting here.
Julian was eighteen.
Then Evelyn's warning returned.
Dominic wasn't Arthur's only child.
Apparently neither was Evelyn.
Dad whispered:
“Who?”
Arthur smiled.
“The one who never disappointed me.”
And suddenly every alarm in the prison corridor began screaming.
Someone had triggered an evacuation.
Guards moved.
Doors locked.
Arthur laughed.
Then leaned close to the glass.
“You wanted to know who inherits Vale?”
His eyes moved to me.
May you like
“Meet your uncle.”
The lights went out.
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