Chapter 4 - The Shocking Secret Revealed
Ten minutes later, Laya sat on a plush velvet sofa on the top floor of Vance Tower, her small boots resting on a Persian rug worth more than the entire repair shop where she lived.
In her hands was a oversized mug of steaming hot chocolate, topped with sweet white cream. A tray of fresh pastries sat on the glass coffee table in front of her, but she had only taken one small bite of a croissant, carefully wrapping the rest in a napkin to save for her mother.
Sterling Vance sat across from her, his grey coat removed, his shirt sleeves rolled up. His eyes were red, but he had regained his composure, replaced now by a fierce, driving energy.
"Laya," Sterling said gently, leaning forward. "I need you to tell me everything. How long has your mother been sick? Where have you been living?"
"Above Mr. Gower’s repair shop on 4th Street," Laya murmured, sipping the warm chocolate. "We’ve been there three years. Mom used to work at the laundry, but then her legs stopped working. The doctor said her blood is sick. He wrote the paper, but the medicine costs too much money."
Sterling closed his eyes, a look of profound pain sweeping across his face.
"I looked for her," Sterling whispered, speaking more to himself than to the child. "I spent ten years looking for her..."
"Why?" Laya asked, setting her mug down. "Do you know my mom?"
Sterling took a deep breath, looking down at his trembling hands.
"Evelyn is my daughter, Laya," he said softly. "Which means... you are my granddaughter."
Laya’s mouth dropped open. "Your... your daughter? But Mom said her dad died a long time ago. She said he went away in a big fire."
Sterling’s eyes darkened with a cold, terrifying rage that made the room feel instantly chilly.
"That is what she was told," Sterling growled softly. "Ten years ago, my younger brother, Richard Vance, wanted control of this company. He knew that Evelyn was my sole heir—that everything I built was meant for her. Richard framed her for a corporate scandal, forged documents, and hired men to drive her out of the city while I was overseas on business."
Sterling stood up, walking to the massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the snowy skyline of Detroit.
"When I returned," Sterling continued, his fists clenching at his sides, "Richard showed me a police report and a burned vehicle. He told me Evelyn had died in an accident on the highway. He wept at her funeral. He showed me forged dental records. I believed him. I broke inside, Laya. I buried a empty casket and poured myself into my work, leaving Richard to run the domestic divisions."
Laya listened, her small mind trying to piece together the giant, scary puzzle. "So... my mom didn't run away?"
"No," Sterling said, turning back to her with fierce devotion in his eyes. "She was lied to. She was told I was the one who hated her, that I had ordered her to be removed because she refused to marry the man Richard chose for her. She thought I tried to destroy her."
He walked back to the sofa and dropped to one knee in front of Laya, holding her small, dirty hands in his.
"Richard took everything from her," Sterling whispered. "He stole her youth, her health, her dignity. He left my daughter to rot in the cold while he lived in a mansion on the lake. And the money in that suitcase..."
Sterling looked over at the black leather box sitting on his executive desk.
"That money was part of an illicit paper trail," Sterling said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "My private investigators were closing in on Richard's offshore accounts. Last week, Richard tried to move two million dollars out of the country to pay off the men who helped him eliminate evidence ten years ago. His courier was ambushed by rival criminals in the alley behind the hotel, dropped the case, and fled."
Sterling looked at Laya, tears brimming in his eyes once more.
"The money Richard meant to use to cover his crimes," Sterling said softly, "was brought back to me by the very child he tried to erase from the world."
Laya looked at the rich old man. She saw the pain in his face, the deep sadness that mirrored her mother’s eyes when she looked out the small window of their room.
"Can you fix her legs?" Laya asked softly. "Can you buy the medicine?"
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Sterling smiled—a real, powerful smile that lit up his entire face.
"I can buy the hospital, my sweet girl," Sterling said, standing up and reaching for his heavy coat. "Marcus! Get the private medical transport! Call Dr. Harrison at Michigan General! Tell him I want the entire neuro-intensive team on standby within twenty minutes!"
