Chapter 16 - The Poisoned Gala
"Do not react," Clara whispered, her lips barely moving as she pulled Julian into the private dressing room of the penthouse ten minutes later, while Vivian waited in the conference suite.
"Clara, what is it?" Julian asked, his brow furrowing.
"It’s her," Clara hissed, her hands gripping Julian’s lapels with desperate strength. "The perfume. The serpent pendant. The mention of water rights! Julian, Dr. Vivian Cross is Eleanor’s daughter!"
Julian’s face went rigid. His jaw hardened until the muscle jumped beneath his skin. "Are you certain?"
"On my life! On our son’s life!" Clara pleaded, her eyes wide with terror. "Eleanor put her inside the hospital system months ago. She waited for us to build that foundation wing. She’s using the charity to gain legal access to the estate grounds!"
Julian took a slow, deep breath, wrestling down the violent impulse to walk into the boardroom and break Vivian’s neck with his bare hands. "Arthur checked her background. She had clean records going back fifteen years."
"She’s a high-level surgeon, Julian! She knows how to alter records, how to bury identities. Look at Harold! She killed him in Ireland, then flew straight here to smile in our faces!"
Julian pulled out his phone, sending a encrypted text to his elite cyber-intelligence team: *Run full biometric cross-reference: Dr. Vivian Cross against Eleanor Vance’s maternal DNA profile. Immediate priority.*
Three minutes later, the phone buzzed. A single document appeared on the screen.
*Match Confirmed: 99.8% Maternal Lineage. Legal Name at Birth: Vivian Vance. Sealed Adoption: Zurich, 1994.*
Julian looked at Clara, his eyes burning with absolute, deadly certainty.
"She wants the estate," Julian muttered. "Why the estate? The money is gone. The trusts are drained."
"The water rights," Clara whispered, remembering Vivian’s words. "The old reservoir beneath the north woods of the estate. Eleanor told you Harold buried something there twenty-eight years ago."
Before Julian could answer, the door of the dressing room swung open. Arthur stood there, his face pale as paper.
"Julian, Mrs. Vance... Dr. Cross just left," Arthur said urgently. "She left an invitation on the desk. The inaugural gala for the St. Jude’s Maternal Wing is tonight at the Drake Hotel. And she just informed the press that Mrs. Vance will be delivering the opening keynote speech."
Arthur paused, his jaw working before delivering the final blow.
May you like
"She also had two state marshals deliver a court order. Dr. Cross has filed an emergency motion for estate probate. She is contesting your legal ownership of the entire Vance land tract—starting tonight."
***
