Chapter 6 - The Dinner of the Condemned
The Vance family estate was a sprawling, neo-classical brick mansion nestled in the most exclusive enclave of Maple Ridge. Tonight, every exterior light was ablaze, illuminating the manicured hedges and the long, circular driveway where a dozen luxury cars belonging to the town’s political elite were already parked.
When our silver town car pulled up to the grand portico at exactly 8:00 p.m., the front doors were thrown open by my mother, Eleanor, who was wearing a sparkling emerald gown, her diamond rings flashing in the chandelier light.
Adrian stepped out of the car first, leaning heavily on his silver cane, his head bowed, playing the role of the frail Alden Vale to absolute perfection. I stepped out behind him, wearing a simple, elegant black dress that stood out like a funeral garment amid the sea of bright, ostentatious party clothes.
"Mr. Vale! Welcome, welcome!" Eleanor gushed, rushing down the marble steps to take Adrian’s gloved arm, completely ignoring me. "We are so deeply honored to have you in our home. Arthur is in the grand salon with the Mayor and Judge Miller. They’re all waiting to toast your incredible vision."
"The honor... is entirely mine, Mrs. Vance," Adrian rasped, his voice trembling with synthetic age spots as he let her guide him up the steps. "I have wanted to see this house... for a very long time."
As we walked into the grand salon, the room fell into a respectful, adoring quiet. My father, Arthur Vance, stepped forward from a group of men in tuxedos, a massive smile plastered across his red, alcohol-flushed face. He held a crystal goblet of scotch in one hand. Marcus stood beside him, looking smug, his system administrative warnings from the previous day completely forgotten now that the ten million dollars was sitting safely in their account.
"Alden, my man!" Arthur boomed, clapping Adrian heavily on the shoulder—a gesture that made Adrian mimic a frail stumble, though I saw his gloved fingers tighten around the handle of his cane with enough force to snap the wood. "The savior of Maple Ridge! Gentlemen, a toast to Mr. Alden Vale! The man who understands that family business is the bedrock of this country!"
The crowd cheered, lifting their crystal glasses in unison.
"Thank you, Arthur," Adrian rasped, his blue eyes scanning the room, locking onto a massive, oil-painted portrait of Arthur Vance that hung over the fireplace—the exact fireplace that had been purchased with the liquidated assets of Cross Holdings ten years earlier. "The house is... magnificent. Tell me... did you handle the renovations... yourself?"
"Every single brick, Alden!" Arthur boasted, taking a deep swig of his scotch. "We bought the land from a failed competitor back in '16. A tragic story, really. The previous owner didn't have the vision to see what this waterfront could become. He went under, and we stepped in to build something lasting."
Beside me, I felt the air grow heavy, a freezing coldness radiating from Adrian’s frail disguise. The "failed competitor" Arthur was mocking was Adrian’s father—the man who had built the foundations of that very development with his own sweat before Arthur stole it with a forged safety report.
"Tragic... indeed," Adrian murmured, his voice dropping its frail, trembling tone for a split second, becoming deadly smooth before he caught himself. "Tell me... Arthur... do you keep the original blueprints... in the house?"
"In the basement office, Alden! The vault is fully secure!" Marcus stepped in, puffing out his chest. "We keep every transaction history since the company's inception down there. It’s the nerve center of the Vance empire."
"Fascinating," Adrian smiled beneath the rubber mask, a terrifying, unseen expression. He turned to look at me, his sharp blue eyes gleaming through the synthetic eyelids. "Evelyn, my dear... my heart medication... is in my coat pocket in the foyer. Would you mind... helping me down to a quiet room... so I can take it?"
"Of course, Alden," I said, stepping forward to take his arm from my mother. I looked at my father and Marcus, my face a mask of cold, absolute serenity. "Excuse us, everyone. Mr. Vale needs a few minutes of quiet."
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"Take your time, kids!" Arthur laughed, waving his hand dismissively as he turned back to the Mayor. "The house is yours!"
You have no idea how true that is, Father, I thought as I guided the old man away from the noise of the party, down the long, carpeted corridor toward the basement stairs.
