Chapter 37: The False Ally Returns

Beatrice didn't flinch. She kept the tire iron leveled at Vane's head, even as the State Troopers swarmed the porch, weapons drawn.

"Drop the iron, ma'am!" an officer shouted.

"Not until he's cuffed," Beatrice said. Her voice was flat, hard. "He's dangerous."

Vane raised his hands slowly, a smirk still playing on his lips. "It's all right, officers. It's a family dispute. High emotions."

"Get on the ground!" the trooper barked.

Vane knelt. He did it with grace, as if he were being knighted rather than arrested. He looked at Elena.

"Remember what I said, Elena. The trust is ironclad. You won't see a dime."

"I don't want the money," Elena said. She knelt beside Julian. He was conscious, but barely. His eyes were vacant, staring at the ceiling as if he could see through the charred beams to the sky.

"Julian?" she whispered. She touched his face. "It's over."

"Is it?" he asked. His voice was a rasp. "Who am I, Elena?"

"You're Jack," Valerie sobbed, dropping to her knees beside him. She tried to take his hand, but he flinched away. "Your name was Jack. I called you Jack."

Julian looked at her. He looked at the woman who had sold him.

"You gave me away," he said.

"I had no choice," Valerie wept. "I was sixteen. My parents kicked me out. I was living in a shelter. Vane... he found me. He promised you a good life. He promised you would be a prince."

"A prince in a tower," Julian whispered.

The troopers pulled Vane up. They cuffed him. As they led him past Elena, he leaned in.

"Check the safe deposit box in Zurich," he murmured. "The key is in the spine of the first edition *Gatsby*. You might find the rest of the story interesting."

"Move!" the trooper shoved him forward.

Elena watched him go. Zurich. Another layer. Another game.

She looked at Beatrice. Her sister-in-law was leaning against the wall, her face pale, clutching her wounded shoulder. But she was smiling.

"We got him," Beatrice said. "We actually got him."

"We got the man," Elena said. "But we lost the house."

She looked out the window. The roof was still smoldering, but the main structure was intact. The manor, however, felt different. It felt empty.

Julian sat up. He let Valerie untie his hands, but he didn't look at her. He looked at Elena.

"Take me home," he said.

"To the manor?" Elena asked.

"No," Julian said. "Take me away from here. Take me anywhere but there."

***

They drove back in silence. Beatrice went to the hospital in an ambulance. Valerie followed in her station wagon, desperate not to be left behind.

Elena drove the truck. Julian sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the passing trees.

"I remember the smell," he said suddenly. "Of turpentine."

"It was her," Elena said. "Valerie."

"She smelled like it," he said. "When she hugged me goodbye. She was crying. And she smelled like paint thinner."

He looked at his hands.

"I thought it was my mother. Constance. But Constance smelled like lavender and gin."

"You remember," Elena said.

"I remember everything now," Julian said. "The cold. The hunger. The day the man in the suit came and took me to the big house."

He turned to her.

"He told me my name was Julian. He told me if I answered to anything else, he would put me back in the cellar."

Elena reached over and took his hand. "You're safe now."

"Am I?" Julian asked. "Vane said the estate dissolves. If I'm not Julian Hawthorne... then who pays for Leo?"

Elena’s heart stopped.

Leo.

The trust fund. The rehab.

If Julian wasn't the heir, the trust was void. The money would go to charity.

And Leo would be on the street.

"We'll figure it out," Elena said, gripping the wheel. "We have the ledger. We have proof of fraud. We can sue the estate."

"That will take years," Julian said. "Leo has days."

He looked at her, his eyes hard.

"We need money, Elena. Fast."

Elena thought of Vane’s whisper. *The safe deposit box in Zurich.*

"I think," she said, turning onto the highway, "I know where to look."

But as they passed the town line, her phone buzzed.

It was a text from an unknown number.

*Nice work with the flare gun. But you forgot one thing.*

*Beatrice isn't the only one who wants a piece of the pie.*

*Check the trunk.*

Elena looked in the rearview mirror.

The bed of the truck was empty.

But the text...

She pulled over.

"What is it?" Julian asked.

"Stay here."

Elena got out. She walked to the back of the truck. She opened the tailgate.

Tucked under the spare tire was a small, black box.

A GPS tracker.

And taped to it was a note.

*We're not done yet.*

It wasn't Vane. Vane was in cuffs.

It was someone else. Someone who had been watching the whole time.

It was a perfect plan. Too perfect.