Chapter 7 - THE BOY WHO SAW EVERYTHING
"Where is Leo?"
I was already reaching for the phone beside my hospital bed.
Rebecca stood near the doorway, shaking.
"I told you. I don't know."
"Then why would Daniel threaten him?"
"Because Leo saw something he wasn't supposed to see."
Claire stepped toward Rebecca.
"What exactly did that child see?"
My wife lowered her eyes.
"Daniel said he was asking questions about someone who visited the house."
"Who?"
Rebecca shook her head.
"I can't tell you."
I felt something inside me snap.
"He's six years old, Rebecca."
"I know."
"He's a little boy who tried to save my life. If anything happens to him because of you—"
"Gabriel, please."
"No. You don't get to ask me for understanding while threatening a child."
Rebecca began crying.
But I was finished listening to tears.
I called Laura.
She answered immediately.
"Mr. Vance?"
"Where's Leo?"
"He's safe. He's with my sister Rosa."
I closed my eyes.
"Thank God."
Laura explained that Rosa lived forty minutes away and had taken Leo in after the ambulance left our estate.
He was eating pancakes and watching cartoons.
"Has anyone contacted you about him?"
Laura hesitated.
"Someone from the mansion called Rosa's house asking whether Leo would be returning to school on Monday."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"They wouldn't give a name."
"Call the detective who took your statement. Tell her everything. Don't move Leo until she helps arrange somewhere secure."
"I already called her after Rosa told me. She's checking on us."
"Good."
Laura began crying.
"I shouldn't have brought him to work, Mr. Vance."
"Laura, your son saved my life."
"He's only six."
"I know."
That was what made everything so unbearable.
A child had recognized danger that the adults around me refused to see.
When I hung up, Rebecca was still standing in the doorway.
"Tell me what Daniel has on you," I said.
She looked toward Claire.
"Not in front of her."
"Then you don't have anything to say."
My wife stared at me for a long moment.
Finally, she whispered, "I thought I was saving Lily House."
Then she walked away.
I wanted to follow her.
I wanted to demand every answer she'd refused to give me.
But I couldn't even stand without assistance.
And Rebecca knew it.
That evening, Detective Sarah Bennett returned to the hospital.
She was a calm woman with graying hair and a manner that reminded me of my mother.
She had already interviewed Laura and collected the preserved medication samples.
Now she wanted to understand the threats involving Leo.
"We've arranged for a patrol officer to check on the child and his mother," she explained. "His aunt's address will not be shared with anyone connected to your household."
"Thank you."
She placed a notebook on the table.
"Mr. Vance, I need you to understand something. We have strong reasons to investigate your medical treatment. But proving who ordered what will require more than suspicion."
"I understand."
"Your wife says the pills were prescribed by Dr. Price."
"Did he confirm that?"
"He's referred our questions to an attorney."
I shook my head.
"Of course."
Detective Bennett continued.
"We've also spoken to Ophelia. She's beginning to cooperate."
"Beginning?"
"She's frightened. She's worried about her daughter."
I thought about Nora lying in a hospital somewhere, dependent on people who had turned medical treatment into a weapon.
"Make sure she knows Nora won't be abandoned if she tells the truth."
"I'll explain the available protections. But she has to give us a complete account."
A few minutes later, Claire entered carrying Leo's drawing.
Laura had photographed it before leaving the mansion.
"I think there's something you should see," Claire said.
The drawing showed three people beside a blue car.
But in the corner, near the mansion's kitchen entrance, Leo had drawn another figure.
A man wearing a green coat.
One arm stretched toward a small square that looked like a box.
I hadn't noticed him before.
"Who is that?" Detective Bennett asked.
"Leo didn't say."
Claire looked at me.
"Daniel owns a dark green overcoat. He's worn it for years."
My pulse quickened.
"But we can't assume the drawing identifies him," I said.
The detective nodded.
"Exactly."
She asked Laura to let Leo rest and arranged for a trained child interviewer to speak with him later, without pressing him for answers.
I was grateful.
Leo was a child, not a witness we had the right to frighten.
The following morning, Laura sent us a photograph of an old housekeeping schedule.
She had maintained a handwritten record of everyone who entered the service areas because the mansion's deliveries were often complicated.
One entry caught my eye.
THURSDAY — 18 DAYS EARLIER
Mr. Whitcomb. Service entrance. 7:40 a.m.
The day my symptoms began.
Beneath it:
Delivery to medication cabinet. Received by Ophelia.
I stared at the words.
Daniel had come to our home on the morning everything started.
Not through the front entrance.
Not for a meeting.
Through the kitchen.
Claire placed another document beside the photograph.
It was an invoice from a private medical distributor associated with Dr. Price's clinic.
The billing name was unfamiliar.
The delivery address was our mansion.
The timing matched Laura's record.
"That doesn't prove what was in the package," Claire cautioned.
"No," I said. "But it gives the police something to follow."
The pieces were finally moving into place.
Daniel had access to the medication.
Dr. Price had prepared false medical assessments.
Rebecca had helped control my food and care.
Ophelia had delivered the pills.
And Miles Kessler was preparing to transfer my company while I lay helpless.
But there was still something I didn't understand.
Why would Daniel risk everything?
He was already wealthy.
His legal firm handled enormous estates.
He had influence, reputation, and access to people most Americans would never meet.
Then Claire's accountant called.
Evelyn Hart had discovered something unusual about Northbridge Equity.
The company preparing to purchase our controlling assets had been established through a chain of holding companies.
One of those companies had been renamed just eight weeks earlier.
Vance Legacy Holdings.
I frowned.
"Vance Legacy?"
Claire nodded.
"Does that name mean anything to you?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Claire, I'd remember creating a company named after myself."
She turned her laptop toward me.
The registration listed Daniel Whitcomb as an authorized representative.
Miles Kessler appeared as a financial officer.
And the company had obtained financing based on representations about assets belonging to the Vance Family Trust.
"That can't be legal," I whispered.
"It won't be if those representations were forged."
Claire scrolled to the ownership declaration.
Her face went white.
"What?" I asked.
She looked at me.
"Gabriel, the buyer isn't listed as an outside investor."
"Then who is it?"
She slowly turned the screen.
Beneath the words Sole Beneficial Owner was a name I knew better than my own reflection.
GABRIEL A. VANCE.
The company buying my empire supposedly belonged to me.
And if the deal collapsed or the missing money was discovered, every financial trail could be made to lead straight back to my name.
For four years, Daniel had convinced me my sister was a thief.
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Now I understood the larger plan.
He wasn't simply trying to steal my company. He was preparing to make me responsible for stealing it from myself.
