Chapter 3 - The Family Ledger
Julian pulled up a chair beside Marcus, who stirred briefly at the motion but didn't wake up. Julian laid the Manila folder across his knees, flipping it open to reveal pages filled with bank statements, wire transfers, and color-coded spreadsheets.
"What is this?" I asked, keeping my voice down to a harsh whisper.
"This," Julian said, tapping a finger against a row of numbers, "is the anatomy of a fraud. For the last ten years, your father has been running Vance Enterprises into the ground while bleeding your grandmother’s estate dry. Charlotte and Madison's lavish lifestyle? The sports cars, the country club memberships, the expensive unicorn parties? None of it comes from honest money, Becca. It comes from accounts meant for you and me."
I crossed my arms, feeling a bitter, hollow laugh bubble up in my chest. "Why are you telling me this now? What does this have to do with Emma lying in a coma?"
"Everything," Julian replied sharply. "Arthur thinks he owns everyone because he holds the purse strings. He cut off your trust fund tonight because he assumed you'd crawl back, begging for forgiveness and paying for Charlotte's party just to keep the peace. But he made a fatal miscalculation."
Julian leaned forward, his eyes flashing in the dim fluorescent light of the ICU. "He crossed a line tonight. Attempting to suffocate a child in an intensive care unit isn't just family dysfunction anymore—it's violent criminal behavior. And it gives us the legal leverage we need to tear their entire empire apart."
I looked back at Emma. Her chest rose and fell in a steady, artificial rhythm. The doctors had warned us that her recovery would be long, painful, and impossibly expensive. Without financial resources, we would lose our home, our savings, and any hope of giving her the care she deserved.
"They have the best lawyers in the city, Julian," I said, my voice heavy with exhaustion. "My dad is on the board of directors for half the banks downtown. Who's going to listen to us?"
Julian smirked, a cold, confident expression that for the first time made me see the family resemblance—minus the cruelty.
"They won't have to listen to us," Julian said softly. "They'll have to listen to a federal judge. But we need to move fast. Before they realize we're onto them."
Josh walked back into the room just then, balancing three cardboard coffee cups and a bag of warm pretzels. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Julian sitting by the bed.
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"Who the hell are you?" Josh demanded, stepping forward defensively.
"Relax, Josh," I said, standing up from my chair, my spine straightening with a sudden, fierce resolve. "This is family. And it's time to start fighting back."
