Chapter 34 - The Altered Register
"Step back," Julian commanded his guards, his voice shaking.
The two men hesitated, looking between Julian and the heavy iron envelope in my hands, before slowly stepping down into the shadows of the side chapel.
Julian walked down the three chancel steps, holding Leo with one arm while extending his trembling right hand toward me. His eyes were bloodshot, surrounded by dark, hollow circles. Up close, I could smell the stale coffee and nervous sweat radiating off him. This was a man running on raw adrenaline and forty-eight hours of unadulterated paranoia.
"Give it to me," he demanded.
"Give me our son first," I answered without flinching. "You don't read Charles’s words while holding Leo like a hostage, Julian. You want the truth of a father? Be a father first."
A muscle twitched violently in Julian’s jaw. For three agonizing seconds, neither of us moved. The rain lashed against the clerestory windows high above, sounding like handfuls of gravel thrown against the glass.
Slowly, Julian looked down at the bundle in his arms. The manic glare in his eyes flickered, replaced for a fleeting second by the exhausted, terrified boy who had never felt like he belonged in the Vance family portrait.
He leaned forward and transferred Leo into my arms.
The weight of my baby against my chest felt like oxygen flooding into starved lungs. Leo sighed in his sleep, his tiny forehead warm against my neck. I stepped back immediately, letting Hannah take position between us and the communion rail.
Julian snatched the parchment envelope from my hand. He tore through the wax seal with frantic fingers, unfolding the heavy paper under the amber light of the chandelier.
Father Thomas stood frozen behind the communion table, his ancient hands resting upon the parish ledger, his eyes cast downward in silent prayer.
Julian read. His eyes darted back and forth across Charles Hayes's sharp, elegant cursive.
*"...Evelyn never knew the boy survived the night; she was told only the girl breathed. God forgive me for severing the branch to save the trunk... Julian Vance... not the money, but the truth of his mother’s sacrifice."*
Julian’s breath caught in his throat. He lowered the letter. "This... this is what you found?"
"That’s Charles’s true confession," Hannah said gently. "Arthur kept it locked in the private safe because if Julian knew Charles tried to protect him, Julian never would have agreed to sign over the offshore voting rights last week."
"No," Julian whispered, shaking his head slowly. "No, this is incomplete. You don't have the second page."
I frowned, tightening my grip on Leo. "What second page? The letter was a single sheet."
"Father Thomas," Julian called out, his voice suddenly dropping into a dangerous, calculated calmness. "Show them the ledger. Show them what Charles registered on November 12, 1991. The day before he died."
Father Thomas looked up, his face pale and weathered. He didn't speak. He simply turned the massive, leather-bound volume toward us, pointing a trembling, ink-stained finger at the bottom entry of page 412.
Hannah leaned over the communion rail, squinting at the faded Latin and English entries. I stepped closer, angling Leo safely behind my shoulder.
The entry was dated November 12, 1991. It recorded the birth and baptism of a child registered under the parish’s discreet wardenship.
*Child: Julian Charles Hayes.*
*Mother: Evelyn Cross.*
*Father: Charles Hayes.*
*Sponsor: Richard Vance.*
Underneath the entry, however, was not Charles Hayes’s signature.
It was signed in a bold, violent hand that I recognized instantly.
*Witness: Arthur Hayes.*
And beside Arthur’s signature was an official addendum, written in fresh, dark blue ballpoint pen—ink that couldn't have been more than an hour old:
*“Custody of the Hayes Direct Line transferred upon majority to Julian Vance. Lineage authenticated by parish seal. Infant son, Leo Vance-Hayes, designated sole recipient of the 1986 Founders' Trust, contingent upon the surrender of all maternal claims by Katherine Vance.”*
My blood turned to ice.
"You didn't come here to register yourself, Julian," I said, staring at the fresh ink. "You came here to sign our son away."
Julian looked at me, and this time, there was no shame in his eyes. Only a terrifying, cold resolve.
"Arthur didn't act alone, Katherine," Julian said softly. "Arthur was working for the one person Charles actually feared. The person who funded Richard Vance’s shipping buyout in 1989. The person who paid Father Gregory to separate Hannah and me."
The side door of the vestry creaked open behind the altar.
Footsteps echoed softly across the ancient stone floor.
A woman walked out of the shadows, her cashmere coat pristine, her diamond earrings catching the faint amber candlelight.
May you like
It was Eleanor Vance.
***
