Chapter 2 - The Will of Eleanor VanceThe air in the room grew so dense that even the baby stopped squall.
Julian stared at the white paper in my hand, his face completely drained of color. "What... what are you talking about? My mother loved me! She would never disinherit me!"
"She didn't disinherit you because of anger, Julian," I said, stepping closer to the altar and gently placing my hand near Eleanor’s portrait. "She disinherited you because she realized who you truly were. A man who trades loyalty for convenience."
"Let me see that!" Chloe shrieked, lunging forward to snatch the document from my hand.
Before her fingers could touch the paper, the front door of the house swung open with a firm, authoritative click.
A tall, silver-haired man wearing a dark charcoal suit stepped into the foyer. He carried a leather briefcase in one hand and a thick accordion folder in the other.
"Mr. Harrison," I said, bowing my head slightly in greeting.
Arthur Harrison, the Vance family’s personal attorney for over thirty years, walked into the living room. His stern blue eyes swept over Julian, took in Chloe’s presence, and finally rested on the altar dedicated to Eleanor. He paused, bowed his head respectfully toward the portrait, and then turned his attention back to the room.
"Julian," Mr. Harrison said, his deep, gravelly voice carrying the weight of four decades of legal authority. "I see you finally decided to return to New York."
"Arthur!" Julian exclaimed, rushing toward the older lawyer as if he were a lifeline. "Arthur, tell me what's going on! Elena is playing some sick game! She’s claiming my mother changed her will!"
Mr. Harrison set his briefcase down on the coffee table, right beside my ledger. He clicked the silver latches open and pulled out a thick bound stack of legal contracts.
"Elena is not playing a game, Julian," Mr. Harrison said coldly. "On November 14th of last year, Eleanor called me to her bedside at Mount Sinai Hospital. She was of entirely sound mind and judgment, as certified by two independent psychiatrists. She executed a complete revision of her estate plan."
"That's impossible!" Chloe shouted, stepping toward the lawyer, pointing a manicured finger at his chest. "She was sick! She was on heavy medication! Elena manipulated her into signing her property away! We will contest it in court! My father is a corporate executive in Toronto, and we have the best litigators in the country!"
Mr. Harrison slowly raised his eyes, fixing Chloe with a glare so terrifyingly stern that her finger dropped instantly.
"Young lady," Mr. Harrison said smoothly, "I have practiced estate law in the State of New York for thirty-eight years. The execution of this will was recorded on high-definition video, witnessed by the Chief of Medicine at Mount Sinai, and notarized by the county clerk. If you attempt to contest it on the grounds of undue influence, I will personally ensure you are counter-sued for legal harassment and forced to pay every cent of our defense fees."
Chloe fell silent, her lips trembling with rage.
Julian shook his head frantically, grabbing Mr. Harrison’s coat sleeve. "Arthur, please... this is my family home! My father bought this house in 1985! I grew up here! My mother wouldn't leave me with nothing!"
"Your mother left you exactly what you gave her during her final years, Julian," Mr. Harrison replied, pulling a pair of reading glasses from his pocket and unfolding the top document. "And I quote directly from Section 4, Paragraph B of Eleanor Vance's Last Will and Testament:"
Mr. Harrison cleared his throat and began to read aloud:
'To my son, Julian Vance, who found his career and personal desires more pressing than the life of the mother who bore him: I leave the sum of ten thousand dollars. This sum is intended to cover the cost of his return ticket to New York, should he ever choose to visit my grave. He is expressly excluded from any further distribution of my real estate, financial portfolios, and family heirlooms.'
The words hung in the air like heavy iron weights.
Julian staggered back, knocking into the arm of the sofa, his eyes staring blankly into space. "Ten... ten thousand dollars?"
"Yes," Mr. Harrison said. "And as for the primary asset—this two-story residence located at 142 Elmwood Avenue, along with the two-million-dollar trust fund left by your late father..."
Mr. Harrison turned the page, his eyes locking onto me.
"...the entire property, along with all liquid assets, stocks, and intellectual rights owned by the Vance Family Trust, are bequeathed solely, unconditionally, and irrevocably to Elena Vance."
"NO!" Chloe screamed, her voice piercing the quiet house. "NO! THAT IS FRAUD! She’s just a daughter-in-law! She’s not even a blood relative!"
"She was more of a daughter to Eleanor than Julian ever was a son," Mr. Harrison snapped, slamming the folder shut. "While Julian was transferring funds to offshore accounts to finance your luxury lifestyle in Canada, Elena was working sixteen hours a day to pay off Eleanor’s medical debts. She earned every square inch of this property."
Julian collapsed onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent, pathetic sobs. "My mother... she hated me..."
"She didn't hate you, Julian," I said softly, stepping around the table to stand before him. "She pitied you. She realized that the boy she raised had turned into a weak, selfish coward who could be bought with a pretty smile and a tailored suit."
I reached into my purse, pulled out a pen, and set it on the table beside the divorce papers I had brought from the airport.
"Now," I said, my voice echoing clearly through the room. "Sign the divorce papers, Julian."
Julian looked up, his face pale, wet with tears, looking smaller and weaker than I had ever seen him. "Elena... please. We can talk about this. I made a mistake. Canada was a mistake. Chloe was a mistake! I can leave her! I can help you manage the house! We can start over!"
"JULIAN!" Chloe shrieked, her eyes bulging in disbelief. "What the hell are you saying?!"
"Shut up, Chloe!" Julian snapped, whipping his head toward her with sudden, venomous hatred. "If it wasn't for you pushing me to stay in Toronto, if it wasn't for you blocking my phone calls, my mother wouldn't have cut me out! This is your fault!"
"My fault?!" Chloe screamed back, her baby breaking into full-blown cries. "You were the one who begged me to move into your apartment! You were the one who told me your wife was a worthless dog!"
I watched them turn on each other like starved animals in a cage. The passion, the luxury, the arrogant united front they had presented at the airport Terminal 2 had completely dissolved in less than thirty minutes.
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I picked up the pen and tapped it gently against the divorce agreement.
"Sign the papers, Julian," I repeated calmly. "Or Mr. Harrison will file the probate documents tomorrow morning, and you will be served with a formal eviction notice before sunset."
