Chapter 9 - The Claim
By sunrise, Vanessa Sinclair's face appeared on every financial network in America.
Not Vanessa Cross.
Not the glamorous twenty-six-year-old event consultant.
Vanessa Sinclair.
Thirty-eight years old.
Granddaughter of the Sinclair family.
She stood beside Charles Whitmore on the courthouse steps wearing a conservative black suit.
No diamonds.
No champagne.
No arrogance.
She looked like a grieving woman seeking justice.
It was brilliant.
Charles spoke first.
"For decades, one branch of the Sinclair family was erased."
Cameras flashed.
"Our legal action is not about revenge."
I almost laughed.
"It is about restoring what was stolen."
Marcus switched off the television.
"He's good."
"He has practiced for thirty years."
Samuel entered carrying court documents.
"It's worse than we thought."
Vanessa claimed my father illegally concealed Thomas's survival and excluded his daughters from inheritance.
If proven, the trust could be reopened.
Article Nine could be frozen.
My control could be challenged.
"Victoria has the same claim."
"Yes."
"But she warned me."
"Which makes her Charles's biggest problem."
I looked toward Daniel.
"Double security at the hospital."
"Already done."
Marcus paced near the window.
"What does Charles need to win?"
Samuel answered.
"Proof that Richard knowingly deprived Thomas's children of their inheritance."
I thought about the silver case.
"The documents."
Samuel nodded.
"If those records support Vanessa's claim, we're in trouble."
Marcus stopped.
"And if they don't?"
"Then somebody stole them because they prove the opposite."
At noon, Vanessa called me.
I answered.
"Amelia."
Her voice sounded different.
Older.
Calmer.
The performance had disappeared.
"You lied about everything."
"So did your father."
"My father protected yours."
"No."
Her voice hardened.
"Richard protected himself."
I glanced toward Marcus.
"What do you want?"
"What belongs to me."
"The hotel?"
"The family."
That surprised me.
"You tried to destroy my marriage to get a family?"
"I didn't destroy it."
She paused.
"I only showed you what was already broken."
I hated her for being partly right.
"You wore my mother's brooch."
Silence.
For the first time, Vanessa lost control.
"Margaret gave that brooch to my mother."
"My mother inherited it."
"After Richard took everything."
Her breathing changed.
"You grew up with our name, our money, our grandfather's protection."
"Your grandfather was alive."
"And hiding."
"To protect you."
"That's what they told us."
Us.
I caught the word.
"You and Victoria grew up together?"
Vanessa went silent.
"No."
"Then who told you?"
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Marcus looked at me.
"What?"
"She said they told us."
Samuel frowned.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning someone raised Vanessa believing my father stole her life."
Daniel entered.
"We traced the call."
"Where?"
He looked troubled.
"The original Sinclair estate."
My father's country home.
The place where he died.
We drove there immediately.
The gates were open.
The house had been unoccupied for years.
Inside, we found no Vanessa.
No Charles.
Only the dining room table.
A single wineglass stood at my father's old seat.
Beside it was the missing silver case.
I approached slowly.
The lock was open.
Inside were hundreds of documents.
At the top rested a handwritten confession.
Signed by Richard Sinclair.
I began reading.
My name is Richard Alexander Sinclair.
I knowingly altered the Sinclair family trust.
I deprived Thomas Sinclair's daughters of their lawful inheritance.
I did so to ensure my daughter Amelia would control the company.
My hands trembled.
Marcus whispered, "It's forged."
Samuel examined the signature.
His expression darkened.
"I don't think it is."
Then we heard a floorboard creak above us.
Daniel drew his weapon.
Someone was upstairs.
We followed the sound to my father's bedroom.
The door stood open.
May you like
Charles Whitmore was waiting inside.
And he was holding Vanessa at gunpoint.
