Chapter 35 - The Rat's Confession
We didn't stay in the ruins of Lake Forest.
By three in the morning, two unmarked, armor-plated Sikorsky helicopters bearing the sovereign seal of the Geneva Trust touched down on the estate’s private beach, having flown beneath radar level from an offshore vessel in Lake Michigan. Alexander's private extraction force—the Iron Cadre—had arrived to secure the perimeter and clean up the carnage.
Inside the soundproof cabin of the lead aircraft, cruising at two hundred knots toward an undisclosed airstrip in upstate New York, Julian Vance was zip-tied to a steel jump seat. He was trembling violently, a puddle of sweat and tears soaking his bespoke silk shirt.
I sat directly opposite him, clean, armed, with my four children asleep in the sound-dampened rear stateroom under the watch of two armed physicians.
"Julian," I said softly, leaning forward.
He flinched as if struck by a whip. "I didn't want them dead, Katherine! I swear to God! Henrik told me we were just serving an injunction! He said Eleanor had arranged a settlement through the Swiss courts!"
"Eleanor is currently in an offshore psychiatric ward under federal monitoring," Alexander interrupted, stepping out of the cockpit. He threw Henrik's opened briefcase onto the aluminum table between us. Inside were cold-storage hardware wallets, biometric keys, and a dossier stamped with the black insignia of the Vance Family Trust.
"Your mother didn't arrange this from a sanitarium, Julian," Alexander continued, his voice dangerously low. "She surrendered her master encryption keys to Henrik two weeks ago—right after Katherine seized the Chicago empire. She sold the entire bloodline down the river just to ensure Katherine got nothing."
Julian's face drained of what little color it had left. "No... she wouldn't. She told me I was the sole heir..."
"You were never the heir, you pathetic puppet," I said, opening the dossier and flipping through the legal instruments within. "Look at this document. Read line seven."
Julian bent his head, his tear-filled eyes scanning the German-language annex. His lips moved silently before he began to hyperventilate.
"The... the assets do not pass to the Vance bloodline at all," Julian stammered, horrified. "They pass to Henrik's private foundation in Liechtenstein upon my death or Katherine’s demise."
"Henrik was going to execute you in my library once he had the children," I told him, looking at the man I had once thought was my husband—the man who had discarded me for a twelve-million-dollar buyout and a crown he was too weak to wear. "You brought your own executioners to my doorstep."
May you like
Julian buried his face in his bound hands, sobbing uncontrollably. "Kill me then. Just kill me. I have nothing left."
"Death is too clean for you, Julian," Alexander said, turning toward the window as the first rays of dawn broke over the Appalachian ridge below. "You are going to take the podium in Manhattan tomorrow morning. And you are going to tell the entire world the truth."
