Chapter 9 - The New Deed
By late January, the winter chill had deepened, but inside Vance Manor, the atmosphere was completely transformed.
The massive wrought-iron gates at the entrance of the estate were open. Moving vans were parked along the circular driveway, their open doors revealing workers carrying out heavy antique furniture, gilded oil paintings, and racks of designer clothing.
Victoria Vance stood on the front porch, wrapped in a black mink coat, watching three movers carry her grand piano down the stone steps. Her face was hollow, aged ten years by thirty days of relentless public exposure and legal dissolution.
Her personal wealth had been stripped away to repay the millions stolen from the Margaret Vance trust. The mansion had been officially transferred into my name three days ago. Victoria and my father were moving into a small, two-bedroom condominium on the outskirts of the city—a property paid for by a modest, non-transferable monthly allowance I had granted my father out of legal duty, not affection.
Julian had been forced to list his suburban home for sale to cover his personal debts. Paola’s husband had taken a job in another state, and their social standing in the city's elite circles had completely vanished.
I pulled my car up to the front steps. I got out, opened the rear door, and lifted Elena out of her seat.
She was wearing a warm yellow coat and a matching knit hat. She looked up at the massive brick mansion, her hand wrapped securely inside mine.
Victoria turned her head as we walked up the steps. She looked at me, then down at Elena.
There was no anger left in Victoria's eyes—only a profound, hollow exhaustion.
"You took everything, Leo," Victoria said, her voice thin in the freezing air. "You left us with nothing."
I stopped on the top step, looking down at her.
"I didn't take anything from you, Victoria," I said calmly. "I simply took back what you stole from my mother, and what you tried to steal from my child."
Victoria looked at Elena for a long, quiet moment. For the first time in seven years, she seemed to see my daughter not as an intruder or an inconvenience, but as a human being.
"I'm sorry," Victoria whispered—the words forced, unnatural, but spoken nonetheless. "I shouldn't... I shouldn't have put her in the kitchen."
"You shouldn't have," I agreed softly. "Goodbye, Victoria."
May you like
She turned, pulled her coat tightly around her shoulders, and walked down the steps to the small sedan waiting for her at the bottom of the driveway.
I stood on the porch with Elena, watching the car pull away through the iron gates until it disappeared down the snowy road.
