Chapter 3 - The $40 Million Bloodline"Don't move a muscle, Mr. Finch," Detective Miller barked, her hand resting firmly on the grip of her sidearm. "You walked out of this country five years ago under a cloud of financial fraud allegations. You don't get to just walk back in and claim custody of two key witnesses in an active felony assault case."
Uncle Julian didn't flinch. He slowly reached into the inner breast pocket of his coat. Two officers immediately drew their tasers, but Julian merely produced a folded leather document holder and handed it to Miller.
"That is a certified court order from the Federal District Court of New York, signed six hours ago," Julian said, his voice calm, deep, and utterly devoid of emotion. "It grants me full temporary emergency guardianship of Maya and Chloe Finch, pending the criminal investigation into Arthur Vance. It also places the girls under federal witness protection status."
Miller snatched the document, scanning it rapidly. Her eyes widened as she reached the signature at the bottom. "Federal protection? On what grounds?"
"On the grounds that Arthur Vance didn't just beat my nieces," Julian replied, turning his gaze toward Chloe and me. "He tried to silence them before they reached their eighteenth birthday. Because in less than forty-eight hours, the Finch Family Trust matures. And Arthur knows that when it does, every offshore account he used to hide his stolen money will automatically lock."
"Uncle Julian..." Chloe stepped forward, holding her bruised arm against her chest. "What is he talking about? Dad’s confession... the police said—"
"Your father never wrote a confession, Chloe," Julian interrupted, his eyes softening just a fraction as he looked at us. "Arthur forged it. He forced Thomas to sign blank documents before he staged that 'car accident' five years ago. I left the country because Thomas told me to run. He knew if I stayed, Arthur would eliminate us both to get complete control over the trust."
"And our mother?" I asked, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and grief. "She knew? She helped him?"
"Eleanor was weak," Julian said bluntly. "Arthur found out she had gambling debts before your father died. He paid off her debts, bought her loyalty, and turned her into his accomplice. She’s not your mother anymore, Maya. She’s his insurance policy."
"That's enough!" Miller snapped, slapping the paperwork against her thigh. "I don't care about federal orders, Finch. These girls are critical witnesses to a domestic violence charge. Arthur Vance is currently sitting in holding downstairs, waiting for his release paperwork to process!"
Julian took a step closer to Miller, lowering his voice so only the three of us could hear. "If you keep Arthur in that holding cell for another hour, Detective, he won't make it to trial. The people he owes money to don't care about domestic abuse charges. They care about the $40 million that’s about to unlock. And if they think Arthur can't get the girls' signatures, they will burn this precinct down to clear the board."
Right on cue, the precinct's overhead lights flickered once, twice... and plunged the entire building into pitch-black darkness.
BZZZZZT!
The emergency red backup lights kicked on, casting a blood-red glow across the lobby.
A high-pitched siren began to wail from the basement levels.
"Power grid failure!" an officer yelled from the front desk. "Main line’s been cut! Backup generators are struggling!"
"Miller!" a panicked voice shouted over the precinct intercom. "The holding cell doors in Sub-Level 2 just auto-unlocked due to the power surge! Vance is missing!"
Chaos erupted. Officers drew weapons, sprinting toward the stairwells.
Julian grabbed my wrist with one hand and Chloe’s with the other, pulling us sharply toward a side service exit. "He’s not running away, girls. He’s coming up here."
"Julian, wait!" I pulled back, the pain in my chest flaring up. "The old phone! The phone I hid under the floorboard at the house—it wasn't the only thing recording!"
Julian stopped, looking back at me through the crimson emergency lights. "What do you mean?"
"Arthur thought I was just recording audio," I said, a dark smile breaking through my pain. "He didn't know Dad taught me basic hardware programming before he died. That phone was linked to a hardwired micro-camera built into the living room ceiling vent. It didn't sync to the cloud."
Chloe gasped. "It recorded directly to a local micro-SD card hidden inside the wall cavity!"
"Which means," Julian realized, his eyes narrowing, "the physical evidence of every crime Arthur committed in that house over the last three years is still sitting inside that wall."
Suddenly, the heavy steel door behind us exploded inward.
A man stepped through the smoke and red light—holding an officer's heavy-duty stun baton in one hand and a black Glock pistol in the other.
It was Arthur. His suit was disheveled, his eyes bloodshot and wild, blood splattered across his white shirt from the guard he had just neutralized.
"Looking for this, Maya?" Arthur growled.
May you like
He held up his left hand. Clutched in his blood-stained fingers was the tiny, pulverized micro-SD card from our living room wall.
"Did you really think I didn't search that house top to bottom while you were lying unconscious in the ambulance?" Arthur sneered, raising the gun and aiming it directly at my forehead. "Game over, girls."
