Chapter 5 - The Matriarch’s Visit
Evelyn Vance arrived the following morning like a storm sweeping into the mansion.
She wore a pristine white tailored suit, her silver hair perfectly coiffed.
I stood by the doorway as she swept into Richard’s room, her perfume suffocatingly strong.
“My poor, sweet boy,” she cooed, leaning down to kiss Richard’s forehead.
Richard didn’t flinch. He played the part perfectly, his eyes dull and lifeless.
“Hello, Mother.”
“I spoke with Nathan,” Evelyn said, sitting in the velvet armchair opposite him. “He says your mind is wandering.”
“I get tired,” Richard slurred slightly, a masterful performance.
“Of course you do,” she said, her voice dripping with false pity.
She turned her sharp, bird-like eyes toward me.
“You’re the new girl. Emily, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Mrs. Vance,” I replied politely.
“Are you ensuring he signs the medical proxy forms? Nathan needs them filed by Friday.”
“Mr. Vance has been too weak to hold a pen, ma’am.”
Evelyn sighed dramatically.
“Well, we may just have to guide his hand. It’s for his own good.”
She looked back at Richard, brushing a speck of dust off her pristine sleeve.
“The board is getting restless, Richard. We can’t have a broken man at the helm of Vance Enterprises.”
“I’m sure Nathan is handling things,” Richard mumbled.
“He is. Brilliantly,” Evelyn smiled. “He always was the practical one.”
She stayed for another agonizing ten minutes before sweeping out of the room.
The moment the door clicked shut, Richard’s demeanor snapped back to razor-sharp alertness.
His fists clenched on the armrests of his wheelchair.
“She approved it,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a rage so deep it terrified me.
“Approved what?”
“The accident. Nathan wouldn’t have made a move on the company without her blessing.”
I stared at him, my heart aching for the man who had just realized his own mother wanted him dead.
“We have the ledger,” I said softly. “We can go to the police.”
“Not yet,” Richard said, his eyes darkening.
“Why not?”
“Because financial fraud gets them a few years in white-collar prison.”
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He slowly stood up from the wheelchair, his full height imposing and powerful.
“I want them to pay for attempted murder. And to do that, we need a confession.”
