Chapter 3 - THE HOUSE ON THE HILL
Barcelona did not feel like escape.
It felt like waking up.
Twenty-four hours after leaving Connecticut, I stood on the terrace of a cream-colored villa overlooking the Mediterranean while Leo and Chloe ran between orange trees in the garden.
The house belonged to me.
Apparently it always had.
"My father owned this?"
Thomas nodded.
"He purchased it through the Carter Trust six years before he died."
Thomas Landry looked nothing like the mysterious billionaire Arthur seemed to imagine.
He was sixty-two, silver-haired, quietly dressed, and carried an old leather briefcase that looked older than I was.
He had been my father's attorney.
His friend.
And, according to him, the only person Richard Carter trusted during the final year of his life.
"Why didn't you contact me sooner?"
"I tried."
My chest tightened.
"When?"
"Three times after you married Arthur."
"I never received anything."
Thomas opened his briefcase.
Inside were copies of registered letters.
Each addressed to me.
Each signed for.
Not by me.
By Victoria Vance's personal assistant.
I stared at the signatures.
"They intercepted my mail?"
"That appears to be the least of it."
Thomas walked me into my father's old study.
Nothing had been touched.
Books lined the walls.
A fountain pen rested beside an antique desk clock.
And above the fireplace hung a photograph of two young men standing beside a cargo ship.
One was my father.
The other was Arthur's grandfather.
Henry Vance.
They were smiling.
Partners.
Equals.
"I don't understand," I whispered.
Thomas placed a folder on the desk.
"Your father created Atlantic Meridian's European division. Henry handled financing in New York. Richard built the ports, routes, and contracts."
"Then why was his name erased?"
Thomas looked toward the photograph.
"Because someone needed everyone to believe the Vances built it alone."
I opened the folder.
Corporate minutes.
Old contracts.
Bank transfers.
One signature appeared repeatedly.
Victoria Vance.
Not Henry.
Victoria.
"She wasn't even running the company then."
"No."
Thomas's expression hardened.
"But she was preparing to."
A car door slammed somewhere outside.
I froze.
Thomas moved immediately toward the window.
Two black sedans had stopped beyond the front gate.
For one terrible second, I thought Arthur had found us.
Then Thomas relaxed slightly.
"They're ours."
Security.
I exhaled.
But Chloe appeared in the study doorway holding something in her hand.
"Mommy?"
"What is it?"
"I found this behind Grandpa's picture."
She held out an old photograph.
My father stood outside this exact villa.
Beside him was Victoria Vance.
They weren't smiling.
They were arguing.
May you like
And written across the back in my father's handwriting were six words.
If something happens to me, ask Victoria.
