Chapter 13 - The Matriarch's Stand
Margaret Vance did not flinch when I played the voicemail for her at the family estate in Beacon Hill. Instead, she methodically set her porcelain teacup down on its saucer, her spine rigid with the ancestral pride that had governed Boston aristocracy for five generations.
"He tried to visit me yesterday afternoon," Margaret said, her voice chillingly quiet.
I froze, gripping the edge of the dining table. "What? Why didn't you call the police immediately?"
"Because I wanted to look my son in the eye and see if there was any remnant of a soul left inside him," Margaret replied, her aristocratic gaze darkening. "He stood at the iron gate like a common beggar, smelling of cheap whiskey and expensive cigars. He claimed that you had brainwashed me. He demanded five million dollars and Noah's birth certificate so he could leave the country and start over."
"And what did you say to him?"
Margaret stood up, smoothing the front of her tailored wool skirt. Her hands did not shake. "I told him that the day he abandoned a dying infant to snort cocaine on a yacht in Mexico, he ceased to be my son. I told him that Noah is the sole heir to the Vance legacy because Noah possesses the one thing Daniel never had: honor."
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"Margaret... he’s cornered," I said softly, the chill creeping down my neck. "A narcissist with nothing left to lose is capable of unspeakable cruelty."
"Let him try," the matriarch said fiercely, stepping toward the window overlooking the courtyard where Noah was playing with his nanny. "I buried my husband. I disowned my son. I will tear this city down brick by brick before I allow that monster near my grandson."
