Chapter 4 - THE BLOODLINE LEGACY
My heart pounded like a war drum in my ears. The world shattered around me into a million unrecognizable pieces.
The woman who stole from my family, the husband who pretended to love me, and a child I never knew existed.
"They didn't just want the trust fund," I whispered, my hand trembling as I picked up the silver framed photo. The baby in Clara's arms couldn't have been more than two years old. "They needed me dead before my thirty-fifth birthday so the estate would pass to Jason... and then from Jason to his legal heir."
"Their child," Detective Bennett said grimly, scanning the tiny living quarters inside the walls. "If Jason died or went to prison, the entire trust would be tied up in probate court for decades. But if you died of an 'accidental' medical emergency while Jason was out of the country, he would inherit everything cleanly. He could then legally adopt Clara's child, cementing the fortune in their pocket forever."
"Where is the baby now?" I asked, my blood running cold.
"That's what we need to find out," Bennett replied, motioning for her forensics team to sweep the hidden crawlspace for fingerprints and DNA.
Suddenly, the silver flash drive I had taken from the safe heavy in my jacket pocket felt like a burning coal.
"Detective, we need to look at what's on this drive," I said.
We retreated to Bennett’s unmarked police cruiser outside. She plugged the flash drive into her rugged toughbook laptop. A single password-protected folder appeared on the screen: PROJECT LAZARUS.
"Try his anniversary date again," Bennett suggested.
"No," I said, a dark memory surfacing in my mind. "Jason had a childhood dog he was obsessed with. Buster99."
I typed it in. The folder popped open instantly.
Inside were dozen of encrypted audio files and video clips. Bennett clicked on the most recent video file dated three days ago—the day before Jason 'left' for Europe.
The camera was positioned at a low angle inside a dimly lit basement.
Jason was sitting at a metal table, looking disheveled, bruised, and terrified. His hands were zip-tied behind his back.
Standing behind him was a tall, heavily built man in a tailored suit whose face remained entirely in shadow.
"You promised us two million dollars by the end of the month, Mr. Vance," the man in the shadow spoke with a cold, refined European accent. "You said your wife’s health was failing rapidly."
"She’s taking the compound!" Jason wept, his face slick with sweat and blood. "It’s working! She’s bedridden! I just need time to stage the Europe trip so I have an airtight alibi when she goes into cardiac arrest!"
"You don't have time," the sharp voice replied. "Your sister-in-law, Clara, has already sold the fake medical credentials we printed for her. The police in Zurich are closing in on the offshore accounts. If we don't receive the cash by Friday, we take your daughter."
Jason began to sob hysterically. "No! Don't touch Maya! I'll lock Evelyn in the house now! I'll turn off the utilities so she can't call for help! She won't survive three days without her meds! Just give me forty-eight hours!"
The video cut to black.
I sat in the dark cruiser, frozen.
Jason hadn't left me to die out of simple greed. He was being blackmailed by an international criminal syndicate. He had trapped me in that house as a desperate human sacrifice to save his secret daughter.
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And then Bennett’s radio crackled to life with urgent static:
"Unit 4, we have a 10-31 at the central municipal morgue! An unidentified male matching the description of Jason Vance just forced his way into the intake facility! He claims he has a bomb!"
