Chapter 3 - The Gathering of the Vultures
The pounding on the front door was so violent that the glass panes in the entryway rattled.
I jumped, my nerves already shredded by Edward’s revelations. Edward slowly closed the mahogany box, his expression tightening into a cold, professional mask.
"And so," the lawyer murmured, standing up and smoothing his tie, "the wolves have arrived at the gate. I suggest you let me do the talking, Nancy."
Before I could answer, the door handle rattled furiously. I walked to the hallway, my legs feeling like lead, and unlocked the deadbolt. The moment the door swung open, a woman in her late forties, draped in an expensive but tasteless fur coat despite the mild weather, pushed her way past me into my small living room.
Behind her came two men in sleek, dark suits. One was young, with a sneering, arrogant face; the other was older, balding, and sweating profusely.
"Where is it?" the woman demanded, her voice shrill and dripping with venom. She turned her icy glare onto me, her manicured fingers clutching a designer handbag like a weapon. "Where is my cousin's will? I know what you did, you old leach. You targeted a dying, senile man in his hospital bed and forced him into a sham marriage!"
"Victoria, please," the older man said, though his tone held no real desire to stop her. He stepped forward, looking around my modest, faded living room with open disgust. "Let’s be civil. I am Julian Rossi, Thomas’s first cousin. This is my wife, Victoria, and our son, Julian Junior. We are Thomas’s actual family."
"You are the people who didn't visit him once during his three months in oncology," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. The shock of the morning was beginning to harden into a fierce, protective anger. "You are the people who refused to answer his calls when he was first diagnosed."
Victoria let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Oh, listen to her! The saintly nurse! You think you're clever, don't you? You found out a lonely billionaire was dying of stage-four cancer, snuck into his room with a cheap ring, and thought you’d walk away with our family’s legacy? We’ve already contacted the medical board, Nancy. We are filing a formal complaint for professional misconduct and elder abuse!"
"You will do no such thing, Mrs. Rossi," Edward Vance’s deep baritone cut through the room as he walked out of the kitchen.
The moment Julian Rossi saw the attorney, his face turned from pale to a pasty yellow. "Vance? What are you doing here?"
"I am representing the estate of Thomas Rossi," Edward said, stepping between the family and me. "And more importantly, I am representing his widow, Nancy Rossi. I suggest you watch your tongue, Victoria. Slander is an expensive hobby, and as of nine o'clock this morning, you no longer have the funds to afford it."
Julian Junior sneered, stepping forward to confront the older lawyer. "You think some cheap hospital-room wedding is going to hold up in probate court? Our lawyers are already drafting a lawsuit to void the marriage on the grounds of mental incompetence. Thomas was heavily medicated on morphine. He didn't know what he was doing!"
"Thomas was of perfectly sound mind, as verified by three independent neurologists whose sworn, videotaped depositions I currently have locked in my office safe," Edward replied smoothly, a cold, predatory smile playing on his lips. "He prepared for your inevitable greed, Julian. In fact, he looked forward to it."
Edward reached into his pocket and pulled out three certified letters, handing one to each of them.
"What is this?" Victoria hissed, snatching the envelope.
"A formal notice of eviction," Edward said. "The mansion in which you currently reside, the luxury vehicles you drive, and the corporate accounts you have been bleeding dry for the past five years—they all belong to the Rossi-Thomas Trust. And as of today, the sole trustee of that fund is Nancy."
Julian’s eyes went wide as he read the document. "This... this is impossible! Thomas promised me the development firm! He said I would take over!"
"Thomas lied to you," I said, stepping out from behind Edward. I looked directly into Julian’s panicked eyes. "Just like you lied to him when you told him you were using his loans to expand the business, when in reality you were gambling it away in Atlantic City. I read his journals, Julian. He knew everything."
In truth, I hadn't read the journals yet—they were still inside the mahogany box in the kitchen—but I knew Thomas, and I knew how meticulous he was. The gasp that escaped Julian's throat told me my bluff had landed perfectly.
"You miserable, gold-digging bitch!" Victoria screamed, lunging toward me.
Before she could reach me, Edward stepped into her path, his hand raised. "Touch her, Victoria, and I will have the two security guards waiting in the unmarked SUV outside arrest you for assault. Now, I suggest you pack your bags. You have exactly forty-eight hours to vacate the Rossi mansion. If you are not out by noon on Thursday, the sheriff will personally escort you to the curb."
"This isn't over!" Julian Junior yelled, his face twisted in rage as his father dragged him toward the door. "We will drag you through the mud, Nancy! The press will love this! 'Elderly Nurse Swindles Dying Billionaire!' You won't be able to show your face in this town!"
They slammed the front door so hard the glass finally cracked.
Silence fell over the living room. I slowly walked to the window, watching their expensive Mercedes roar away from the curb, kicking up gravel. My hands were shaking again, but this time, it wasn't from fear.
It was from the realization that Thomas’s "trap" had not just been designed to cage me. It had been designed to give me the armor I needed to fight the very people who had made his final years a living hell.
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"They're going to fight dirty, aren't they, Edward?" I asked, not turning around.
"Extremely dirty," Edward replied, his voice grave. "But Thomas left you a weapon. It’s time we open the rest of that ledger."
