Chapter 6 - ASHES OF THE PASTThe media firestorm that followed was Biblical in its proportions.
Richard’s press conference had been brief, brutal, and flawlessly executed. He didn't act like a victim; he acted like an executioner. The video footage of Vanessa dragging Sophie was broadcast on every major network. Within two hours, #JusticeForSophie was the number one trending topic worldwide.
Vanessa was arrested in the lobby of Sterling Capital, sobbing as handcuffs were slapped onto her wrists in front of fifty flashing cameras. Her perp walk was broadcast live on CNN.
But Richard wasn't celebrating.
Three days later, he was sitting on the back porch of his secluded Hamptons estate, watching the ocean waves crash against the shoreline. The salty wind ruffled his hair. Down on the private beach, Sophie was chasing Winston the golden retriever, laughing as the dog playfully splashed in the shallow water.
She was eating again. She was sleeping in her own bed. The color had returned to her cheeks.
But the nightmare wasn't over. It had only just mutated.
The sliding glass door behind him opened. Vance stepped out, looking exhausted, holding a thick manila folder.
“How is she?” Vance asked, nodding toward the beach.
“Healing,” Richard said quietly. “Resilient. More resilient than I am.”
Vance sighed, pulling up a deck chair. “I wish I could say you can relax, Richard. But we have a massive problem.”
Richard dragged his eyes away from his daughter. “Vanessa’s bail hearing?”
“Denied. She’s sitting in Rikers Island as a flight risk. The child abuse charges will stick, and she’s looking at twenty years minimum.” Vance paused, tapping the manila folder. “But Elias and the forensic accountants finally cracked the encrypted servers connected to Vanessa’s offshore accounts. And Richard... she wasn't working alone.”
Richard felt a cold spike of adrenaline hit his chest. “What do you mean?”
“Vanessa is a sociopath, yes. But she’s not a mastermind. We traced the funding that set up her fake identity, her fake Columbia transcripts, and her initial introduction to you at that gala.” Vance opened the folder and pulled out a single sheet of paper. “Someone has been bankrolling her for the last five years.”
Richard stared at the paper. It was a wire transfer receipt for two million dollars, routed through a Cayman Islands shell company. The recipient was Vanessa Vargas. The sender’s name was redacted, but the memo line read: Operation S-C.
“Sterling Capital,” Richard muttered.
“Exactly,” Vance said grimly. “Vanessa wasn't just a gold digger who got lucky. She was a planted asset. Someone paid her to infiltrate your life, isolate you, marry you, and eventually institutionalize your daughter so they could gain control of your proxy votes.”
Richard stood up, pacing the wooden deck. His mind raced, piecing together the terrifying puzzle. The timeline. The suddenness of it all.
He stopped dead.
“Claire,” Richard whispered.
Vance looked down at his hands. “Richard, I didn't want to bring this up until we were absolutely sure. But we ran the dates. The two million dollar wire transfer? It was deposited into Vanessa’s account exactly four days before Claire’s fatal 'heart attack'.”
The wind seemed to stop. The sound of the ocean faded to a dull roar in Richard’s ears.
Claire hadn't died of a random medical anomaly. She was murdered. Murdered to make room for Vanessa. Murdered to pave the way for a corporate takeover of the Sterling empire.
And whoever ordered the hit was still out there.
“Have you identified the owner of the shell company?” Richard asked, his voice completely void of emotion. It was the voice of a man stepping into a war zone.
“We have a lead,” Vance said cautiously. “But Richard... you’re not going to like it. The shell company is a subsidiary of a holding firm managed by the Harrison Group.”
Richard closed his eyes. A wave of profound, sickening betrayal washed over him.
The Harrison Group was one of the largest private equity firms in New York.
It was run by David Harrison.
Claire’s father.
“My father-in-law,” Richard said, opening his eyes, staring out at the gray ocean. “Claire’s own father funded the woman who tortured my daughter.”
“It’s circumstantial right now,” Vance pleaded. “We need more proof before we move on a man with that much power. David Harrison is practically Wall Street royalty. If you go after him and miss, he will ruin you.”
Richard looked down at the beach. Sophie had fallen into the sand and was giggling uncontrollably as Winston licked her face. The pure, unadulterated joy in her laughter was the most beautiful sound Richard had ever heard.
He had almost lost her. He had almost lost the only piece of Claire he had left, all because of greed.
“I won't miss,” Richard said softly.
He turned back to Vance. The look in his eyes made the seasoned attorney take a subconscious step back.
“Pack your bags, Vance. Tell Elias to dig up every dirty secret David Harrison has ever buried. We’re going back to New York.”
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“Richard, what’s the play here?”
“Vanessa was the puppet,” Richard said, buttoning his jacket against the cold wind. “Now, I’m going to cut the strings. And then I am going to burn the puppeteer alive.”
