Chapter 7 - The Inheritance of Vengeance
The blood seemed to drain from Christopher’s face, leaving him looking every bit of his age, the silver head of his cane trembling slightly against the floorboards.
“My commercial real estate portfolio?” Christopher repeated, the words tasting like poison on his tongue. “Lucas... he couldn't have. I structured the voting shares specifically to prevent any single board member from executing a majority buyout without my direct countersignature.”
“Unless,” Evelyn said grimly, walking over to the coffee table and picking up the fraudulent power of attorney Eleanor had used to sell my townhouse, “he had access to notarized signature templates from the family trust. Templates that your wife has been administering for over a decade.”
Eleanor covered her face with her hands, sobbing uncontrollably now—not out of grief, but out of the sheer, panicked realization that the monster she had coddled and favored above all others had just burned her house down too.
“He told me he needed them for a real estate investment in Manhattan,” Eleanor wept into her palms, her voice muffled and pathetic. “He said it was to secure his future... he said we’d all be safe...”
“You weren't securing a future, Mother,” I said, walking slowly over to stand in front of her. “You were trading your family off to the highest bidder because you couldn't stand the thought that the daughter you tried to disown might actually be stronger than the sons you spoiled.”
I turned back to Christopher and Evelyn. We didn't have time for family therapy sessions or emotional breakdowns. If Lucas had control of the commercial real estate portfolio, he essentially held the legal keys to half of Phoenix’s industrial infrastructure—and he was using it as collateral to back Moretti Logistics’ illicit operations.
“Where is he?” I asked Evelyn.
“According to the flight logs my firm just pulled, his private charter landed at Sky Harbor Airport thirty minutes ago,” Evelyn replied, tapping furiously on her tablet. “He’s scheduled to meet with Arthur Sterling’s regional associates at a private penthouse suite downtown at midnight to finalize the asset transfer.”
Christopher straightened his posture, his dark eyes flashing with the cold, unforgiving fire that had built an empire out of the Arizona desert. He handed Toby gently over to me.
“Genevieve,” my father said, his voice hard as iron. “Take your son upstairs. Put him to bed in his own room. This house belongs to you now, legally and completely.”
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“I’m not hiding in a bedroom, Dad,” I replied, shifting Toby securely onto my hip as I looked down at the black encryption drive in my pocket. “Lucas stole my life, framed me for federal crimes, and tried to rob my son of his mother. I’m going to the penthouse.”
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