Chapter 6 - Family Treason
By noon, the summer heat was baking the asphalt outside the West Hollywood high-rise, but inside the private suite of Reeves, Sterling & Vance, the air was like liquid nitrogen.
The double doors opened, and Marcus escorted two people into the conference room.
Uncle Martin and Rodrigo’s sister, Vanessa.
They didn't look like the proud, sneering aristocrats who had sipped my Champagne twelve hours earlier. Vanessa’s designer dress was crumpled, her face pale and devoid of makeup, clutching a knock-off handbag. Martin looked completely broken, his tie undone, his hands trembling as he gripped an envelope.
“Clara,” Vanessa gasped, practically throwing herself across the table before Marcus stepped into her path, his broad hand barring her way. “Clara, please! You have to listen to us! We had nothing to do with what Rodrigo did! We were in shock! You know how violent he can get when he drinks!”
“You were in shock?” I asked, leaning back in my chair, looking at her with cold curiosity. “Is that why you laughed when your mother said God took my baby because I was too focused on business?”
Vanessa’s face went completely white. “I... I didn't mean to laugh! It was nervous laughter! You know Evelyn—she’s a monster, Clara! She controls everyone! She threatened to cut me off if I didn't agree with her!”
“You’re thirty-four years old, Vanessa,” I said flatly. “And you’ve never held a job in your life because I’ve been paying your six-thousand-dollar monthly condo maintenance fee under the table for three years.”
Vanessa burst into loud, hysterical sobs, covering her face with her hands.
Uncle Martin cleared his throat nervously, stepping forward and placing the manila envelope on the table. He slid it toward Daniel.
“What is this, Martin?” Daniel asked without touching it.
“It’s... it’s the offshore paperwork,” Martin whispered, his eyes darting toward the security cameras in the corners of the room. “Two months ago, Rodrigo and Evelyn came to my house. They knew Sanders Crest was running out of runway. They knew the banks were closing in.”
I leaned forward. “Go on.”
“Rodrigo had a plan,” Martin said, his voice dropping to a desperate rasp. “He said you were too smart to ever let him touch the Vance Family Trust principal while you were alive. But he found a loophole in the secondary operating agreements for the commercial holdings.”
Daniel opened the envelope, pulling out a stack of documents with blue-ink signatures and international banking stamps from the Cayman Islands.
His eyes widened as he scanned the first page. “My God.”
“What is it, Daniel?” I asked.
“A twelve-million-dollar collateralized corporate bond guarantee,” Daniel said, his voice laced with venomous disgust. “Dated forty-five days ago. Purporting to bear your personal signature and corporate seal, pledging Vance Global’s commercial real estate portfolio as secondary collateral for an offshore loan issued to a shell company called *E.S. Dynasty Holdings*.”
*E.S. Dynasty Holdings.*
Evelyn Sanders.
They hadn't just been stealing allowance money. They had forged my signature on a twelve-million-dollar high-yield debt instrument designed to liquidate my grandfather’s real estate assets the moment our marriage dissolved.
“They were going to trigger the default next week,” Martin confessed, sweating profusely. “Rodrigo was going to file for divorce on grounds of irreconcilable differences, claim half the marital estate under California community property laws, and use the twelve-million-dollar offshore loan to buy out your interest in the construction firm before you discovered the forgery.”
I looked at the signature on the page.
It was an exquisite forgery. It had even been stamped with an imitation of my private corporate notary seal.
“Why are you giving this to me, Martin?” I asked, looking up at the sweating older man. “Last night, you watched your nephew strike me and you did nothing until you realized the camera was recording.”
Martin fell to his knees beside the conference table, tears leaking from behind his thick glasses.
“Because he’s going to drag us all to prison with him, Clara!” Martin cried, his voice cracking with sheer panic. “The FBI was at my house this morning at 8:00 AM! Two agents from the financial crimes task force! They asked about the offshore wire transfers! Rodrigo put my name down as a corporate director on that shell company without my permission!”
“He used you,” I said plainly.
“He used all of us!” Martin wept. “Please, Clara! Talk to your lawyers! Don't let them send me to federal prison! I have high blood pressure! I’ll die in a cell! I’ll testify against him! I’ll take the stand against Evelyn! I have the recordings—I recorded the dinner where they planned the whole thing!”
Daniel looked up from the documents, meeting my gaze.
In Daniel’s eyes, I saw the cold, ruthless spark of a hunter who had just been handed the silver bullet.
“Clara,” Daniel said softly. “Wire fraud. Forgery of a commercial instrument exceeding ten million dollars. Conspiracy to commit grand larceny. And interstate transportation of stolen securities.”
He closed the folder with a sharp, decisive snap.
May you like
“This isn't a messy Beverly Hills divorce anymore,” Daniel whispered. “This is twenty-five years in federal custody.”
***
