Chapter 7 - THE SIX-MILLION-DOLLAR CHILDClara stared at the transfer.
“No.”
Samuel turned his laptop.
Six million dollars.
Beneficiary:
LEONARD JENKINS MINOR TRUST.
Leo did not have a trust.
At least, not one Clara had created.
Vincent read the metadata.
“It was opened three days ago.”
“By whom?”
“Documents say Clara.”
“I didn’t.”
Vincent knew.
But the banking records looked legitimate.
Digital identification.
Signature.
Tax forms.
Everything.
Clara paced.
“They’re turning Leo into evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Vincent understood first.
“To force me to separate from you.”
She stopped.
“If you publicly accuse me, you survive.”
“And if I don’t, investigators argue I participated.”
Clara looked at him.
“Then accuse me.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“No.”
“Vincent.”
“No.”
“It’s strategy.”
“No.”
“You said your people choose their risks.”
“You are not one of my people.”
She went still.
Vincent stepped closer.
“You are my wife.”
“The contract—”
“To hell with the contract.”
Silence.
Vincent’s breathing changed.
“I will not feed you to wolves because it is convenient.”
Clara stared.
“Then what?”
“We prove it.”
They traced the trust.
The account had been created through an online family-office platform.
Identity verification came from a scan of Clara’s driver’s license.
She knew exactly where Anthony could have obtained it.
Billy.
“He had copies of my documents.”
“For what?”
“Apartment applications. We lived together.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened every time Billy came up.
Clara noticed.
“Are you jealous of a dead man?”
“No.”
“You look jealous.”
“I dislike him.”
“He’s dead.”
“That has improved my opinion slightly.”
Despite everything, Clara laughed.
The next lead came from the trust’s mailing address.
An apartment in Evanston.
Vincent wanted Clara to remain home.
She ignored him.
At the apartment, they found no one.
Only a laptop.
And photographs.
Hundreds.
Clara at work.
Clara picking Leo up from school.
Clara buying groceries.
Leo at the park.
Vincent stared at the wall.
Anthony had watched them for months before the fake debt.
“This wasn’t random.”
“No.”
Clara found a photograph of her father.
“What?”
Samuel examined it.
Taken fifteen years earlier.
Her father stood beside Vincent’s father.
Vincent frowned.
“You said your father worked accounting.”
“He did.”
Vincent turned the photograph over.
A date.
June 8.
Sixteen years ago.
The day before Vincent’s father had been indicted in a case that mysteriously collapsed.
Clara whispered, “My dad knew yours.”
The laptop contained an encrypted folder.
Samuel broke it open.
Inside were scanned letters.
Clara read the first.
Her father had discovered money laundering at Lakeview.
But he had also discovered that Vincent’s father secretly owned it.
The second letter was addressed to the FBI.
Never sent.
It named Anthony.
Not as an adult criminal.
As a teenager stealing from the organization.
Vincent stared.
“Anthony was doing this at seventeen.”
Clara continued reading.
Her father had confronted Anthony.
Anthony threatened the family.
Clara’s father backed away.
Years later, after his death, Billy found the old files while helping Clara clear the house.
That was how Anthony learned the evidence still existed.
“Billy sold him information,” Clara said.
“Yes.”
“And then Anthony killed him.”
“Probably.”
She sat down.
All of this because her father had kept records.
All of this because greed had survived generations.
Vincent crouched beside her.
“You didn’t cause this.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Clara looked at him.
“I’m just tired.”
“I know.”
“I want Leo to have one ordinary week.”
Vincent sat beside her on the dusty floor.
“You chose the wrong husband.”
She laughed weakly.
“I noticed.”
Then her phone rang.
School number.
Clara’s heart stopped.
Leo was being privately tutored.
The school should not be calling.
She answered.
“Ms. Jenkins?”
“Yes.”
“This is Principal Ward.”
“What happened?”
“There’s a man here asking about Leo.”
Clara looked at Vincent.
“What man?”
“He says he’s Leo’s father.”
Clara stood.
“What?”
A voice came through the background.
“Clara?”
She knew that voice.
Impossible.
“Billy?”
Vincent stood slowly.
Clara gripped the phone.
“You’re dead.”
Billy Henderson laughed.
“Not yet.”
Everything they believed cracked open.
Billy had staged his death.
The body in the warehouse was someone else.
He had been working with Anthony the entire time.
Clara’s shock turned to rage.
“You helped kidnap our son?”
“He’s my son too.”
“You haven’t seen him in three years.”
“I made mistakes.”
“You handed my name to murderers!”
“Come talk to me.”
“Why?”
“Because Anthony’s losing control.”
Billy lowered his voice.
“And he’s planning something you need to know.”
Vincent took the phone.
“Tell me.”
Billy went silent.
“Calvetti.”
“Where are you?”
“You really married her.”
“Yes.”
“That must be embarrassing.”
Vincent’s face became blank.
Clara took the phone back before someone died through technology.
“What is Anthony planning?”
Billy answered.
“He’s going to kill Vincent.”
“That’s not news.”
“At the Founders’ Dinner.”
Vincent looked at Carmine.
The annual dinner was in two days.
Billy continued.
“And then he’ll kill Leo.”
Clara went cold.
“Why Leo?”
“Because by then everyone thinks the kid is Vincent’s chosen heir.”
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
Billy’s voice broke.
“I didn’t agree to that part.”
Clara whispered, “You agreed to enough.”
“I know.”
“Where are you?”
Billy gave an address.
Then said one final thing.
“Clara?”
“What?”
“Don’t bring Vincent.”
The call ended.
Vincent looked at her.
“No.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“He might talk if I go alone.”
“You are not going alone.”
“He’s Leo’s father.”
“He’s also a man who assisted your kidnapping, forged your name, stalked you and helped abduct your child.”
Clara crossed her arms.
“That was a thorough summary.”
“You’re not going.”
She stepped toward him.
“My son is on a death list.”
“And you think I will risk his mother?”
“I think you’ll help me.”
Vincent stared at her.
Then exhaled.
“This marriage has become exhausting.”
Clara smiled.
“Imagine how I feel.”
They went together.
Billy was waiting.
But when Clara opened the apartment door, she found him on the floor.
Bleeding.
Still alive.
Barely.
He looked at Clara.
“Anthony knows.”
“Knows what?”
Billy reached for her hand.
Then looked at Vincent.
“He knows Vincent loves you.”
Clara froze.
May you like
Billy coughed.
“And that means he finally knows how to beat him.”
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