Chapter 13 - Victor's laugh echoed through the hall.“You have the documents,” he said.
“You have the recordings.”
“You have the ledger.”
He smiled.
“But you don't have the one thing that matters.”
He looked at Sophia.
“Proof.”
Margaret stepped forward.
“We have the DNA results.”
Victor shook his head.
“Those results were ordered by Julian's security team.”
“They were conducted by an accredited laboratory.”
“One you've never heard of.”
Margaret frowned.
Victor smiled.
“I own it.”
Gabriel swore.
I looked at Elena.
She looked terrified.
Victor had planned everything.
Even this.
The first DNA report was fake.
The one in the red room.
A trap designed to make me believe Sophia was my daughter.
If Sophia was not legally my child, she could not inherit Dawnridge.
Victor still controlled the succession.
I turned toward Sophia.
She looked frightened.
Then she reached into her cardigan.
Pulled out a folded drawing.
Not a drawing this time.
A piece of paper.
She handed it to me.
“What is it?”
“Mom said to give you this when Mr. Victor comes.”
Elena froze.
I opened it.
A hospital document.
Original.
Stamped.
Signed.
It contained my wife's authorization for a private DNA test.
The date was eleven years ago.
Three months before her death.
The sample had been collected from me.
And from a newborn.
The child's name was not Sophia.
It was listed as:
BABY GIRL M.
I looked at Elena.
“She was tested then.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Victor intercepted the result.”
Margaret took the paper.
Her eyes widened.
“This is notarized.”
Victor stepped forward.
“Forgery.”
“No,” Margaret said.
She pointed to the seal.
“State archive verification.”
Victor's face hardened.
I turned toward him.
“You never controlled this.”
He did not answer.
“So my wife knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she knew.”
“Yes.”
“You killed her.”
Victor looked at me.
Then finally said:
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
He did not deny it anymore.
“I didn't want to.”
I stared at him.
“You murdered my wife.”
“She found the contract.”
“That was enough?”
“She was going to destroy everything.”
“You destroyed her.”
Victor's voice cracked.
“She would have destroyed you.”
“You don't get to say that.”
“You don't understand.”
He stepped closer.
“Your father built Dawnridge to protect the family from men like me.”
“You mean men like you.”
“I mean people who believed the family owed them everything.”
Victor looked around.
“You inherited billions.”
“And you wanted them.”
“I built them.”
“No.”
“You think your father created all this alone?”
Victor's voice rose.
“He had me.”
There it was.
The real grievance.
Victor believed he was not the servant.
He was the architect.
For decades, he had convinced himself that my family's wealth belonged to him because he had maintained it.
He did not want money.
He wanted recognition.
Power.
Control.
A name.
And I was the final obstacle.
Victor reached into his jacket.
Gabriel raised his gun.
Victor stopped.
Instead he pulled out a photograph.
My father.
Victor.
And another man.
I recognized him.
Margaret's predecessor.
The lawyer who had handled my family's estate.
The lawyer who died five years ago.
Victor placed the photograph on the table.
“He wasn't my partner.”
He looked at me.
“He was your father's.”
Then another photograph.
My father.
My mother.
Victor.
And someone else.
My wife.
The date was twenty-five years ago.
The year I first met Victor.
My wife had known him long before me.
She had been investigating him for years.
Everything I believed about my life had been edited.
My marriage.
My father's death.
Victor's arrival.
Even my first heart diagnosis.
I looked at Victor.
“You wanted me to depend on you.”
“Yes.”
“You changed my medications.”
“Yes.”
“You manipulated doctors.”
“Yes.”
“You killed my wife.”
“Yes.”
“You watched my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“And now you want my company.”
Victor smiled sadly.
“I want what I was promised.”
“What were you promised?”
He pointed toward the document.
“Your father promised that if I protected the family, I would become its steward.”
I laughed.
“You've been protecting us?”
“Yes.”
“From what?”
Victor looked toward the glass doors.
“From the people who are coming.”
The lights flickered.
A helicopter appeared outside.
Then three black SUVs entered the property.
Victor's men moved aside.
He smiled.
“You thought I came alone.”
Margaret looked toward me.
“Who are they?”
Victor answered.
“The people who funded your family.”
Then he whispered:
“Your father didn't build Dawnridge.”
May you like
“He stole it.”
And every light in the mansion went out.
