Chapter 38 - The Cleansing Fire
Tyler was dragged out of the parlor, his screaming profanities echoing down the grand hallway and out into the night until the back doors of the cruiser slammed shut, cutting off the noise.
Richard remained seated, trembling, staring blankly at the shattered porcelain on the hearth. He looked like an empty shell, stripped of his pride, his grand illusions of Mercer vengeance turned to dust.
"Get out of my house, Richard," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, yet ringing with absolute authority.
Richard raised his tear-streaked face. "Mother... please. Where will I go? The firm will drop me tomorrow. Tyler is going to federal prison. The Mercer debt... we have nothing left."
"You had everything," I replied, pointing toward the open front door where the cold mountain wind blew in. "You had a mother who loved you without question. You had an honest name, a peaceful valley, and an inheritance that would have sustained you for the rest of your days. You chose hatred. You chose Donald Mercer’s bitterness over Thomas Vance’s grace. Now go live in the ruins of your choices."
Richard stood up on unsteady legs. He didn't look back. He walked down the corridor with his head bowed, stepping out into the darkness. The front door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone in the vast silence of the Vance manor.
I walked over to the coffee table and picked up Donald Mercer’s scorched letter and the adoption affidavit.
I carried them over to the hearth. The fire had died down to glowing embers. I took the brass fire poker, stirred the red coals until small tongues of flame began to lick the charred logs, and dropped both documents into the blaze.
The parchment curled instantly. The ink sizzled, the words *Donald Mercer* turning black and dissolving into smoke, rising up the stone chimney and dispersing into the midnight sky above the ridge.
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The Vance bloodline may have ended. The Mercer bloodline may have rotted from its own poison. But I was still Evelyn Vance. And as long as breath remained in my lungs, the foundation of this house would stand upon truth, not vengeance.
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