Chapter 14 - The Sister from the Shadows
Ethan’s grip on the brass poker tightened until the metal bit into his skin. His flashlight beam trembled slightly across Genevieve’s face, but she didn't so much as blink. Up close, the resemblance between them was terrifying. She had the exact same high cheekbones, the same slight cleft in her chin, but her eyes held a freezing detachment that Ethan had only ever seen in the portraits of their grandfather Charles.
"Drop the book," Ethan said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low register. "The police are already on their way."
Genevieve let out a soft, melodious laugh that seemed to echo in the cavernous bedroom. She casually tucked Richard Sterling’s private journal into the inner pocket of her trench coat.
"The police?" she murmured, taking two slow, deliberate steps toward them. "You mean Sheriff Hawkins? The man whose reelection campaign was funded entirely by the Sterling Agricultural Trust? Go ahead, Ethan. Call him. In fact, let’s invite him up for tea. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to meet the rightful majority trustee of this property."
Olivia stepped forward into the room, refusing to cower behind Ethan. "You broke into our home. That’s home invasion, burglary, and property destruction. I don't care what trust you think you own—you don't have the right to kick in our doors."
Genevieve turned her cold eyes onto Olivia. Her expression shifted from amused contempt to an icy, visceral hatred.
"Ah, the Vance girl," Genevieve said softly, looking Olivia up and down as if inspecting a stain on an antique rug. "The laundress’s granddaughter. It’s amusing, really. Margaret told me you had delusions of grandeur, but to see you standing here in this house, pretending to be a lady... it’s almost tragic."
"Keep your mouth shut about her," Ethan warned, raising the poker. "Get out before I take you down myself."
Genevieve didn't back away. Instead, she took another step closer, until the brass poker was resting just inches from her throat. She looked down at the metal, then back up into Ethan’s furious eyes.
"Do it, Ethan," she whispered, her voice laced with venomous amusement. "Strike me down. Add aggravated assault to your list of crimes. Give Julian Cross the emergency injunction he needs to have you dragged out of here in handcuffs tonight instead of Friday."
She raised her gloved hand and gently pushed the tip of the poker aside.
"You really don't understand what happened, do you, Ethan?" Genevieve said, her tone suddenly shifting into something quiet and cutting. "You spent your entire life believing you were the golden child. The heir apparent. You lived in luxury on Fifth Avenue, attended Choate and Harvard, played the dutiful son while our father looked at you with disgust."
"My father loved me," Ethan said through clenched teeth.
"Our father despised you," Genevieve hissed, her voice suddenly trembling with genuine, long-festering bitterness. "He saw you for what you were: weak. Sentimental. A boy who broke into tears when a horse had to be put down. Charles knew that if the empire was left in your hands, you would dismantle it piece by piece to appease your bleeding heart. That’s why Charles took me. That’s why he hid me in Switzerland."
"He didn't hide you to protect you," Olivia intervened, her voice steady and clear. "He hid you because you were a bastard, Genevieve. Charles Sterling cared about bloodlines and public reputation above everything. If he kept you abroad, it wasn't out of respect. It was out of shame."
For the first time, Genevieve’s mask slipped. A flare of pure, murderous rage flashed behind her green eyes. Her hand twitched inside her coat pocket.
"My grandfather made me the sole executrix of his sovereign trust," Genevieve snapped, her voice losing its European polish and revealing raw, ugly fury. "He gave me the power to strip you both of everything. This house is just the beginning, Olivia. Do you know what was in the safe behind that painting?"
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, velvet-lined jeweler's box, flipping it open with her thumb.
Inside lay a heavy signet ring carved from dark lapis lazuli, bearing the ancient Vance family crest.
Olivia gasped. "That belonged to my great-grandfather. It disappeared the night Eleanor’s office was ransacked fifty years ago."
"Charles didn't just take Eleanor’s patents," Genevieve said with a cruel smile. "He took her dignity. He kept this ring as a hunting trophy. And now, it belongs to me. Just like this house. Just like your precious foundation."
From down the long driveway, the distant sound of sirens began to wail, cutting through the damp night air.
Genevieve didn't panic. She snapped the velvet box shut and slipped it into her pocket.
"That will be the sheriff," she said smoothly, straightening the collar of her coat. "I won't run from him. In fact, I’m going to meet him downstairs. Julian has already delivered our temporary emergency writ to the local precinct. By sunrise, Ethan, this entire wing will be sealed by order of the court."
She walked past them, her shoulder deliberately brushing against Ethan's. At the bedroom threshold, she stopped and turned back.
"Oh, and Ethan? One more thing before you spend your last two nights in this bed," Genevieve added, her smile returning, cold and razor-sharp. "Margaret didn't die of a heart attack."
Ethan froze. "What did you say?"
"The coroner's report was expedited because Julian paid the medical examiner," Genevieve whispered, her eyes dancing with wicked triumph. "Margaret’s potassium levels were off the charts. Someone slipped digitalis into her prison dietary rations over a three-week period. She was murdered, Ethan."
Genevieve tilted her head, her gaze shifting to Olivia.
"And do you know who had authorization to deliver specialty dietary supplements to Margaret’s cell at Bedford Hills under the prison humanitarian reform initiative?"
The room went dead silent.
Genevieve’s smile widened until it looked grotesque.
May you like
"The Eleanor Vance Foundation," Genevieve whispered. "Your foundation, Olivia. The paperwork carries your digital signature. Have fun explaining that to the grand jury on Friday."
With that, Genevieve turned and walked briskly down the hallway, leaving Ethan and Olivia standing in the dark as the cold wail of the sirens grew deafeningly loud outside the broken window.
