Chapter 3 - The Paperwork of Death
The penthouse terrace had been converted into an active crime scene within forty-five minutes.
Yellow evidence tape fluttered violently in the wind against the terrace perimeter railing.
Forensic technicians in white suits dusted the concrete ledge for fingerprints while photographers captured the exact angle of Eleanor’s fall.
Paramedics had already wheeled Eleanor into a private ambulance downstairs, accompanied by a heavy police escort to ensure she reached the hospital without interference.
Daniel refused to leave the penthouse until he saw every piece of evidence secured.
He sat on an iron patio chair, his tuxedo jacket discarded, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Maya sat across from him, sipping sweet tea from a paper cup while an emergency medical technician finished bandaging the deep gouges in her forearms.
"You saved her life, Maya," Daniel said, his voice raw with exhaustion. "If you hadn't dived over that concrete wall, my mother would be on the street right now."
Maya shook her head gently, wincing slightly as the technician taped the gauze.
"I couldn't just stand there and watch an innocent person die, Mr. Vance. Any decent person would have tried."
"No," Daniel replied firmly, looking directly into her eyes. "Victoria was attacking you. You risked your own life to hold onto my mother. That isn't just decency. That is courage. I will spend the rest of my life making sure you and your family are taken care of."
Before Maya could reply, Detective Miller walked out onto the terrace holding a thick black leather portfolio.
Miller was a veteran investigator with tired gray eyes and a heavy trench coat that whipped against his legs.
"Mr. Vance, we need you to look at something," Miller said, pulling up a chair beside them.
"Did you finish reviewing the rooftop security footage?" Daniel asked immediately.
"The video is incontrovertible," Miller nodded grimly. "Victoria Vance—or rather, Victoria Sterling—approached your mother at exactly 11:46 AM. They exchanged words. Your mother pulled out a manila envelope. Victoria struck her across the face, seized her shoulders, and deliberately levered her over the edge."
Daniel’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.
"And when Maya intervened?"
"The footage shows Victoria repeatedly clawing at this young woman’s arms, attempting to force her to release your mother’s wrist," Miller said, glancing at Maya with quiet respect. "That elevates Victoria’s charges from aggravated assault to premeditated attempted murder. The district attorney has already denied bail."
"What about Sophia?" Daniel demanded. "You heard the audio recording from my mother’s phone."
Miller tapped the leather portfolio resting on his knee.
"The audio gives us probable cause for conspiracy to commit murder. But what we found inside Victoria’s personal suite downstairs makes this ten times bigger than a domestic homicide."
Miller unzipped the portfolio and laid out several stacks of legal documents across the glass patio table.
Daniel leaned forward, squinting at the dense legal jargon.
The first document was a comprehensive power of attorney form granting Sophia full authority over Vance Logistics and its subsidiary holdings.
Daniel’s signature was scrawled at the bottom in dark blue ink.
"I never signed this," Daniel whispered, tracing the forged letters with his index finger. "This isn't my handwriting. The slant on the 'V' is completely wrong."
"It's an expert forgery," Miller explained. "It was notarized yesterday by an offshore notary registered in the Cayman Islands. But look at the secondary rider attached to the back."
Daniel flipped the page.
His heart seized in his chest.
It was an application for a commercial life insurance policy taken out on Eleanor Vance.
The face value of the policy was sixty million dollars.
The sole primary beneficiary was not Daniel.
It was a shell corporation named Avernus Capital, registered under Sophia Sterling’s maiden name.
"Sixty million dollars," Daniel muttered, the room spinning around him. "They took out a sixty-million-dollar policy on my mother’s life."
"And look at the date on the policy, Mr. Vance," Miller pointed out with a heavy finger.
Daniel looked at the filing stamp.
"Fourteen months ago," Daniel read aloud, horror creeping into his voice. "We had only been dating for six months."
"This wasn't a sudden crime of passion because your mother discovered their fraud," Miller said darkly. "This entire relationship was an orchestrated corporate execution from day one. Sophia and her mother targeted you specifically."
Maya leaned closer, her eyes scanning the financial documents.
"Mr. Vance, look at the signature on the secondary witness line."
Daniel looked down at the bottom right corner of the insurance rider.
Beneath the forged signature of his mother was the signature of the authorized broker who had processed the policy.
The name was Julian Mercer.
Daniel felt the air leave his lungs as if he had been struck with a sledgehammer.
"Julian?" Daniel gasped.
Julian was Daniel’s childhood best friend, the chief operating officer of Vance Logistics, and the best man currently waiting downstairs in the VIP banquet hall.
"Are you certain of that signature?" Miller asked, observing Daniel’s sudden paleness.
"Julian has been my closest friend since we were seven years old," Daniel stammered, his mind reeling into chaos. "His father worked for my father! Julian was the one who introduced me to Sophia at the charity gala two years ago!"
The puzzle pieces that had made no sense for the past two hours suddenly crashed together with devastating clarity.
Julian was the one who had urged Daniel to expand into the overseas shipping lanes that had drained the company's liquid reserves.
Julian was the one who had recommended Sophia’s private equity firm to bail out the company.
And Julian was the one who had insisted that the wedding take place on the private rooftop of the high-rise tower he co-owned.
"Where is Julian right now?" Daniel asked, his voice shaking with a terrifying blend of betrayal and fury.
Miller signaled to two uniformed officers stationed by the terrace entrance.
"We left him downstairs managing the guests in the grand ballroom. We told him we were simply taking statements about a slip-and-fall accident to keep the crowd calm."
Daniel stood up, knocking his chair backward onto the flagstones.
"He isn't managing the guests, Detective. He's waiting for confirmation that my mother is dead."
Maya stood up beside Daniel, her expression determined despite her injuries.
"Mr. Vance, the freight elevators in the rear lead directly to the private underground executive parking garage. If he realizes the police are going through those documents, that is the only route he can take without crossing the lobby cameras."
Miller looked at Maya with sharp appraisal.
"How do you know that, miss?"
"I've worked housekeeping in this building for four years," Maya replied without hesitation. "All the high-profile tenants use the service corridors when they want to avoid the paparazzi."
Miller drew his sidearm, checking the chamber before clicking it back into his holster.
"Let's move downstairs right now. Nobody leaves this building until I say so."
May you like
Daniel didn't wait for the elevator.
He tore open the emergency stairwell door and took the concrete steps three at a time, driven by a primal need to confront the brother who had sold his mother’s life for corporate shares.
