Chapter 4 - The Cry of Betrayal
The sound of the roaring engine reverberated off the limestone walls of the waterfront villa, startling the flock of white herons roosting in the palms.
Arthur took an aggressive step forward into the sand, prepared to run toward the dock, but Chloe’s desperate grip held him anchored to her side.
"Dad, listen to me, she tried to kill me because of what she did!" Chloe pleaded, her teeth chattering uncontrollably from the shock.
Arthur turned back to his daughter, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her wet head, his eyes burning with protective love and gathering fury.
"What did she do, Chloe? Tell me what happened," he demanded, his deep voice trembling with the magnitude of the horror they had just survived.
"She didn't just push me because she hates me, Dad, she knew I found out!" Chloe gasped, coughing as she wiped away tears mixed with ocean salt.
"Found out what, sweetheart?" Arthur asked, his thumb gently wiping a smear of sea grit from her cheek.
"She is stealing Vance Cay, Dad! She is stealing everything mother left for me!" Chloe screamed, her voice rising above the drone of the speedboat.
The words hit Arthur Vance like a physical blow, stripping the breath from his broad chest faster than the cold ocean plunge had done.
Vance Cay was not merely a billion-dollar commercial asset; it was the ancestral bird sanctuary and sanctuary island purchased by his late wife, Eleanor.
Before Eleanor passed away five years ago, every acre of the island had been legally deeded to pass solely to Chloe on her twenty-first birthday.
Today was that birthday, the very reason forty of the country’s most powerful investors and family friends had gathered aboard the yacht to celebrate.
"She can't touch this island without my personal authorization and Eleanor's trust release," Arthur said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register.
"She found a way, Dad, she brought the papers here today in her private bag to register them with the offshore notary who arrived by seaplane!"
Chloe spun her father around, her wet fingers pointing down the beach toward a secluded stretch of sand nestled behind the dock's wooden foundation pilings.
There, half-hidden under the broad leaves of a low-hanging sea-grape tree, sat an abandoned black designer backpack made of ballistic nylon.
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Victoria had discarded it in her rush to get aboard the vessel, or perhaps she had dropped it when Arthur’s dive into the ocean caused a general panic.
"The entire theft is inside that bag, Dad! Look at it before she clears the harbor channel!" Chloe sobbed, pointing with unrelenting urgency.
