Chapter 27 - The Final Ledger

I left Eleanor weeping on her shattered glass, leaving Marcus behind just long enough to confiscate her phones and passport.
Downstairs, inside our command van, my personal encrypted phone began to buzz furiously.
The caller ID displayed the name that used to bring me comfort when I was a child: *Mother.*
I answered and put it on speaker.
"Claire? Claire, darling, thank God you answered!" Beatrice Vance’s voice was high-pitched, warbling with fabricated maternal tears. "Where are you? What is happening? The police are outside our home in Greenwich! They’re seizing the art, they’re searching Arthur’s safe! Your father is unreachable! Claire, you have to call your contacts and stop this madness! We are your family!"
"Family," I repeated, tasting the word like cold ash.
"Yes! Blood is thicker than water, Claire! Whatever silly feud you have with Arthur—"
"You let me buy three plots in the cemetery, Mother."
Silence fell over the line, sudden and heavy.
"You sat at the brunch table six months ago," I continued, each word measured and glacial, "and complained that the funeral flowers were going to clash with Eleanor’s birthday balloons. You knew Ethan was alive in a basement. You knew Leo and Maya were locked in a concrete room by the sea."
"Claire... you don't understand the pressures your father was under—"
"I understand one thing perfectly," I cut her off. "When the federal marshals breach the front doors of the Greenwich house in fifteen minutes, you will be arrested under Title 18, United States Code, for conspiracy to commit kidnapping, wire fraud, and accessory to attempted murder."
"Claire! I am your mother!" she shrieked, the veneer of aristocratic poise peeling away entirely. "You wouldn't dare!"
"I already sent the unredacted files to the Attorney General, Mother. Enjoy the gray jumpsuit. It won't match your diamonds."
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I crushed the burner phone beneath the heel of my boot and turned to the driver.
"Point us toward the harbor. We take the high-speed cutter to Heron Island."